Just as a reminder: The elves in Imladris still think Eyaenne died. They never found out she recovered and therefore assumed she passed and noone thought about informing them. Just so that you do not get confused if the Noldor speak about Eyaenne as a dead Person, she is not dead!
Glorfindel and the twins were riding side by side, bows in their hands. Their quivers were filled with arrows with white fletching on their backs. They had planned to go for a hunt to get some deer for Elrond's table.
Elrohir's face bore a frown, as it had ever since the incident which had cost the life of Princess Eyaenne Thranduiliell. He had yet to find joy in his life again. It still happened that Elladan woke because of his brother screaming at top of his lungs, caught in a nightmare, jerking underneath the silken covers, sweat upon his wise brow and fear etched in his face. Eyaenne's beautiful face, distorted in pain and accusation, haunted his dreams and the pain in his heart just would not lessen. After the younger twin had woken he would tremble in his brother's arms until his soft sobs subsided and he fell back to sleep. For a while Celebrian and Elrond had feared that Elrohir was going to fade. Elladan on the contrary had gotten angry at his parents for thinking this and had stayed at his brother's side, trying to sooth his soul ache. Elladan had succeeded, the nightmares had lessened over time and Elrohir had at least returned to eat normally and to speak, something he had refused doing for several years. Yet the guilt still weighed heavily upon the young shoulders and so it would for the rest of his life.
When Roewen had come to Imladris to deliver the message of Greenwood's fall, she had not spoken with the younger twin, refusing to even look him in the eye. Neither had she with Elladan for she was unable to tell the two apart. However she had not once incriminated him but instead pointed out that it had been the Princess's fault as well, as she had allowed him to kiss her instead of pushing him away. That was all she had said about the late Thranduiliell.
Roewen had not stayed long: The Silvan slept for several hours high in the branches of one of the oldest trees in Imladris, refusing to even enter the Last Homely House. She had then taken care of her injured arm before taking some provisions and leaving without another word, all questions unanswered for she left in the dead of the night.
Now Elrohir sat proudly atop his horse, the angry scowl fixed and his eyes hurrying through the trees. There were no orcs in the hidden valley, yet Elrohir had promised himself to never again lower his guard if he was not in the safety of either Imladris or Lórien. Elladan and Glorfindel were quietly conversing with each other, deciding in which direction to go.
"Did you hear that?" Elrohir asked, his sword in his hand. Glorfindel flinched and his hand flew towards the hilt of his weapon, however it remained there it was.
"Someone is whistling" he replied, his head inclined to the side. After some more seconds, his eyes widened with joy, before narrowing dangerously with silent anger. "It is Mithrandir." He spurred his horse towards the soft whistling of an ancient voice.
Leaves rustled and the heavy hooves of his proud steed tormented the hard earth beneath them, causing it to shiver under the thunder. Glorfindel's long mane rushed after him like a pennant of liquid gold. The twins followed the balrog-slayer without another word. Joy stood in Elladan's eyes, while Elrohir seemed as troubled as ever. Maybe Mithrandir, the wise wizard, would be able to help the younger twin. It had been several centuries since the grey wanderer had last entered the Hidden Valley and Elladan had dearly missed his council, as did Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel.
"You are late, Mithrandir!" Glorfindel stated almost coldly as he stopped his horse before the wagon of the wizard.
"A wizard is never late", Gandalf began his well-known sentence. "Nor is he early. He arrives precisely –"
"No, mellon-nin, this time not. You are late. Centuries late. Where have you been? We were in desperate need of your council. We rode out to Rohan and Gondor, we went to the Golden Woods and the Brown Lands, we even entered the land of the Halflings in the east, yet you were nowhere to be found. Saruman was called to the Iron Hills and we were unable to reach him until this day. So tell me: Where have you been, while Middle-Earth as we know it has changed so drastically?"
"I have been in the North, with the Dunédain, helping them to build a base. But my dear Glorfindel: What has shaken the world so deeply to leave the mighty Lord of Gondolin so shaken? I have not heard of any threats to Middle-Earth."
"Come with me. We shall speak in Imladris", Glorfindel sighed suddenly tired. "And forgive me my brisk welcome. I am glad you are here."
"Elladan, Elrohir, the young Lords of Imladris!" the old man said, inclining his head. "How do you fare?"
Elrohir just shot the wizard whom he had known all his life, a short, pained look, before giving his horse the spurs and riding ahead, back towards Rivendell.
Elladan watched his brother go, sorrow in his clear eyes.
"I do not know", he replied to Mithrandir's question sadly. "I really do not know."
That was when the wise wizard finally realised that he had indeed missed something of great importance and a frown appeared on the wrinkled forehead while his eyes lost their amused twinkling.
Legolas frowned as his eyes watchfully followed a twig which danced upon the water of the powerful stream. It was small and dark, almost black leaves stabilized it on the silver surface. Something about the picture touched Legolas heart, however he would not find out, what it was.
"Yrch!" a female voice tore Legolas out of his thoughts. The young Prince wanted to curse, but he refrained and instead hurried elegantly towards the she-elf who had cried the warning. His bow quickly found its way into his hand and before the captain arrived next to the warrior maiden, she had already engaged into battle, sending arrows flying down. In return black quarrels were piercing the darkness next to them. Legolas' eyes widened as he just managed to turn his torso out of the way of one of the cruel bolts. He pressed himself against the trunk of a tree, leaning around it and firing arrows down at the group of orcs running through the trees. The moon was barely sending any light through the roof of dark leaves and Legolas was unable to distinguish how many of the cruel beasts were cowering in the dark. Concluding from the amount of bolts hitting tree trunks and branches there were many. An elvish cry made Legolas flinch violently and he turned his head quick enough to see Merion falling off a branch, a short quarrel buried deeply in his upper thigh. The elf's golden hair shone brightly with his elven glow. The elf managed to land on his feet, however his injured leg gave away underneath him and he fell to the floor. Before the orcs could approach him, arrows shot every nearing foe down, the elves in the branches desperately defending their injured comrade. Merion's face was a mask of pain as he tried to come back on his feet. He used his bow as a crutch.
Neliell and Ferienne left the trees, Jarans hovering above them shooting arrows with rapid pace. Neliell grabbed Merion's arm and pulled it over her shoulder, stirring him towards a near tree with low branches. Meanwhile Ferienne had exchanged her bow against a sword and killed the orcs the archers in the trees left for her. Legolas focused back on the orcs closer to him however still paying attention to what happened several meters away. Eriandras, who was closer to Merion, called soft orders and Legolas knew the situation under control as far as it was possible. A movement in the darkness caused Legolas to let another arrow fly and the loud screech which followed told him he indeed had hit another orc.
Legolas shot arrow after arrow, meanwhile one eye on Merion and Neliell as they struggled to climb the tree. Just as he thought they would make it, wargs suddenly burst through the trees. Neliell abandoned Merion in favour for her sword and the elf staggered dangerously. Apparently the arrow had injured his muscle. Merion struggled to get his knives out of their sheathes, holding them in front of his body, forcing the pain down and standing on one leg. A warg came shooting in his direction and Legolas quickly shot an arrow towards the beast. It hit the broad chest the same moment as another arrow killed the orc on top of the animal, coming from another tree.
Merion dodged the blade of another orc coming too close and before any of the elves could jump to his aid, he stumbled and fell backwards. He tried to find his footing, but it was too late. The ground underneath his feet, dangerously close to the river edge, crumbled and with a chunk of earth the elf fell backwards into the wild torrents which tore him underwater almost immediately. His scream of utter horror was swallowed by the roaring waters.
Legolas felt his blood freeze as he heard the scream, dying abruptly. He heard elves yelling and his voice rang loudly above them all as he cried orders. Right now they needed to defend themselves and all they could do was to hope the river would carry Merion further downstream and allow him to climb on land there. The woodland-prince focused solemnly on the enemies on the ground, leaning sidewise to avoid a quarrel, reaching for another arrow and cursing softly under his breath as he noticed that his quiver was empty. Slinging his bow back on his back, he took his long ivory-handled knives. Warmth flooded through him the second he touched the soft surface and he felt his glow lighten up a bit for the reassuring feeling of the knives in his hands. The darkness was effecting him, he felt it in his heart, his soul, his fëa. Effecting him more than the other elves in his company. He had watched how his glow slightly dimmed over the course of the last week and it was not due to exhaustion which had claimed his body and held it in a tight embrace. The darkness was pressing heavily onto him and he now understood the words of warning his brother had sent him. He had never before been this close to the darkness and he began to fear what it could do to him. He suddenly felt so vulnerable. He heard the trees' angry whispers where even the other woodelves heard nothing. He could feel the trees' pain whenever one of the elves came to close, their agony ringing through his body. Too bright. The elves were too bright for the dark trees. Bright enough to hurt and Legolas was unable to shut these emotions out, they just kept tormenting his mind. His patrol too had noticed that something was wrong. Legolas Thranduillion was no longer the understanding, yet stern commander he used to be. He still was a good leader, but his posture had become cold, reminding them more and more of their beloved king, while his temper had become fierce like Alcanor's. He snapped at people without reason, spoke louder than necessary and kept jumping as if something was sneaking up on him. The abrupt change in their Prince's behaviour shocked them and many had come to Eriandras to voice their concerns.
A small smile crept on Legolas face as the warmth of his fëa intensified and he felt better than he had in days. He quickly descended down to the forest floor, finding himself back to back with Learon, next to Legolas himself the youngest elf. For a second he met brown soft eyes before they each focused on the opponents which kept storming towards them.
Alcanor jumped off his horse, gracefully landing and passing on the reigns to an elf already waiting. Silver hair played around the fair face of the Crown Prince. It only underlined the anger shining vividly in his bright eyes. There had been no further attacks since Legolas' patrol left and as much as Alcanor would usually appreciated the peace and quiet, this time it gave him way too much time to be brooding about the senseless mission his baby brother had been sent on. Reclaiming land of the Darkness! Only idiots could possibly come up with this idea! Chancellors and Ministers who had not held a sword in centuries and who had never experienced how the Darkness could press upon you like a heavy weight on your shoulders, how it drained you of your joy and how it stole the colours from the world. Each time Alcanor returned from his patrols – he always insisted on leading those closest to Dol Guldur, the origin of the evil power – he came back drained, easy to anger, his temper short and fierce and his mood darker than what was normal for him. He tried to control it, hiding it from his brothers and sisters. He was after all their big brother and he needed to protect them. He had long since found out that the other soldiers were not as affected by the Darkness as he was. He had spent many hours in the library, earning stern and confused looks from several Sindar, searching for a reason for that. Sindar mostly saw the perhereg as low as Silvans and Silvans did not trust in books or written words. Instead they only believed spoken words, myths and legends. Arahen, Eyaenne and Falin would both never touch a book and hated writing reports or notes for council meetings and would not accept written orders, a fact which was driving Thranduil mad. Daeros and Legolas were fine with books, though they did never relay on them, preferring spoken words to books and notes. Iarith was quite different. She loved books and her room looked more like a library than anything else. She even read books just for pleasure.
Alcanor did not like books, but as Crown Prince he was accustomed to them and Thranduil had made sure he did not dislike them too much.
He had finally decided it must be his closer connection with his surroundings which caused him to be so affected. The same connection which sometimes allowed him to hear people's thoughts as if they had spoken aloud.
Elves jumped out of Alcanor's way as he strode menacingly towards the throne room, frowning worriedly, barely paying attention to where his long strides were leading him. With his broad chest and slim waist, the leather armour hugging his body tightly, with the mud and the black orc blood sending dark shimmers over his otherwise clean armour and his weapons on his back he was a quite intimidating character.
He was deeply worried about these patrols and a small flame of anger burned in his chest. King Thranduil had ordered these patrols which, in Alcanor's eyes, were futile and deadly risky.
"Why do you linger in the shadows?" a deep, smooth voice tore him out of his thoughts, a voice of ethereal beauty with an almost bored ring to it.
Alcanor suddenly realised that his steps had carried him to his father's private quarters. The slim man was standing near the window, blue eyes gazing outside to watch the wind carrying late sunrays over the tree tops. Long, elegant fingers held a beautifully crafted crystal goblet filled with heavy red wine, its scent lingering in the air.
"I did not mean to come here", Alcanor admitted softly. The king nodded absent-mindedly before turning around to face his son. An elegant eyebrow shot upwards and his sharp eyes wandered over the Prince's clothing. He cocked his head to the side in apparent distaste and for the first time Alcanor realised even though as most elves he had managed to stay mostly clean during his weeks on patrol, his boots were coated in mud and water had seeped through the seams of his shoes. Dreading what he was going to see, he turned around only to notice he had left a trail of dirty water behind him.
"At least get out of your shoes", Thranduil demanded irritated, rolling his eyes ever so slightly before an evil smirk played around his lips. Alcanor suddenly felt like an elfling getting scolded by his father and he blushed furiously. Quickly he bent down to open his laces and pulling his feet out of the boots. He took his socks off as well and put them in the boots, leaving him barefooted, his trouser legs wet yet reasonably clean.
Thranduil's blue eyes were still searching Alcanor's face, yet the irritation had vanished only to leave an expressionless mask.
"What is bothering you, Al?" he asked softly and the Crown Prince flinched at the sound of his horrible nickname, eyes widening in surprise as he stared at his father.
"How did you just call me?" he asked, disbelief evident in his strong voice.
"Al", Thranduil answered flatly, but his eyes suddenly softened slightly.
"Not you too!" Alcanor moaned and he felt his Ada's hand resting lightly on his shoulder. The touch relaxed him immensely and freed him of an anxiousness he did not know possessed his body.
"Legolas and his patrol come through about a week ago", Alcanor started, carefully gauging the king's reaction to his words.
"You don't think venturing further south is a good idea", Thranduil stated, reading his son with the ease only a king and father could possible possess.
Please Review!
wenduo: In the movie, I really wanted Thranduil to damn hug his son! I so wanted to see them hug, man! I know what you mean. I tried to have Thranduil appear cold as in the movies, but for me it is impossible to imagine a father could not love his child, which is why I made Thranduil just unable to express his love.
bettsam0731: Thanks mate, I will go as I am able and correct it. Oh, and Legolas will get injured in the next chap ;)
seth42: Thank you so much! It means o me that you enjoy this Story so much! Thank you for your Support, it helps tremendously
camilleCS: Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much. I just really hope I will not let you guys down, you seem to have so high expectations and most of the time I just have no idea what I am doing or there to go next :/ :D I will find a way though. Oh, and do not worry about over-reviewing, as I said before: To me, such a thing does not exist. I am happy about every review even if it is just a short sentence, but the long ones are the ones which help me most.
allee8246: You guys have no idea how much your support helps me, honestly. Reading your reviews warms my heart and makes me want to write more and write better. I am happy you like my Thranduil for I adore him pretty much ;) Legolas is getting injured next chapter, by the way J
BadassArcherDaughter: hehe, two weeks are way too little time if you got a writer's block mate J Thanks for your review, I am so glad everyone seems to improve of my OCs and of my Thranduil version. Let me know what you think about this chapter, will you, bro?
FP3: Thank you very much for your review. I can be quite a huggy person too, but only with my family. I hate hugging or even just touching strangers, but my family and close friends get more hugs then they deserve J I appreciate all reviews, even if they are short, so please, continue leaving them as it helps me greatly and makes me want to write more for my awesome reviewers J
BellethielGreenleaf7: Thank you very much for your review. I am glad you like this story and I hope you will continue reading it and leave reviews. They help me a lot even if they are just short notes. I hope you liked this chap as well. ;)
Smileyfaceofevil: It will take some more chapters before the wood elf ends up in Elronds healing ward, but it will happen eventually. Got some nice ideas until then *smileyfaceofevilgrins*
SaphiralovesTolkien: Thanks so much for your review ;) I am happy you guys like the fight and I hope including another fighting scene here was not too much. Let me know what you think, mellon :D
Sadie Sil: Thank you very much for continuing reading this story. It is not a match for yours, but I give my best and I really enjoy it. Thank you, my friend, thank you very much
Ekzab2000: Thank you. Happy you like this story and hope you will continue reading it and leaving reviews. Let me know what you thik of the new chap, mellon ;)
Arabella: Thank you. Happy you like this story and hope you will continue reading it and leaving reviews. Let me know what you thik of the new chap, mellon ;)