DISCLAIMER: The name's not Tolkien, alas!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, this chapter also has a bit of action – but after this, fortunately (for me) there'll be less of it. It was sheer hell writing this without sounding ridiculous, and I'm not sure how far I succeeded.
By the way, if anybody's interested in a bit of back story on this story, check out my other fic, Warriors – I wrote it for the August Teitho. Unfortunately it has no twins or Estel, but it does have a bit of background on some of the characters in this.
Thanks to Calenlass Greenleaf1, OnCeInABlUeMoOn14, My blue rose, ProRodeoCowgirl, Lady Ambreanna, Firefly-Maj, Arwen Granger, Firebender01 and Calathiel of Mirkwood for reviewing!
And now onward…
CHAPTER 11: Escape
Legolas pulled his knife from an orc's limp body, spun on his heel, and thrust –
To feel a jolt as his blow was met and parried with unnatural strength. He let out a gasp, taking an involuntary step back and just stopping himself from groaning. This was precisely what he had hoped to avoid.
"I see you thought you would escape," Bregolien said, raising his broadsword again, this time to attack. "Foolish, Your Highness. Exceedingly foolish."
"I'm known for it," Legolas said. He knew it truly was foolish to banter with the elf, but he could not help himself. "But I think you'll find that you have been more foolish by far."
"If that were so, tithen pen, you would not be the one fighting for your life. I caught you within the boundaries of your father's kingdom, in the middle of a forest you allegedly know so well that you could find your way home blindfolded."
"I was careless," Legolas admitted, parrying another blow and whirling as Bregolien tried to attack from the other side. "But you were overconfident. Did you think we were still the five-hundred-year-old novices you defeated so easily the last time we met? Time has passed, although you seem not to have noted it."
"Five-hundred-year-old novice?" Bregolien said, snorting. "Five-hundred-year-old spoilt brat was more like it. Even then they were saying you would be one of the best archers in Middle-earth, but all that skill did not save Lindariel, did it?"
Legolas' eyes blazed suddenly and he attacked with redoubled fury. Bregolien was startled enough by the young prince's intensity to have to take a couple of hasty and inelegant steps back.
"Very good," the older elf said, eyes narrowed. "I see your skill has grown, elfling. That will make my victory all the sweeter."
Legolas said nothing, concentrating on his knives. Although he was skilled, the knives were not a part of him as his bow was, and he needed his full attention on them as the duel became more intense.
Estel shivered and tossed, trying to get to sleep. He sensed that his new friend was in trouble, and it pained him that there was nothing he could do about it – but he was in a strange place, and Legolas might know the stronghold well enough to slip out without the guards noticing, but he did not – especially since one had been placed on his door, on the advice of Elladan.
"He is too much like Legolas in some ways," the dark-haired elf had told Arbellason, and the warrior had laughed – with just a hint of humour – and had said that after twenty-six centuries, he hoped he knew how to deal with stubborn children.
The human had never imagined that his first visit to Eryn Lasgalen would be like this. When he had been a child, his brothers had described Legolas to him in such glowing terms that Estel had imagined him as a warrior second only to Glorfindel – if that – who dealt death to orcs and spiders and was brave enough to march up to the gates of Dol Guldur and challenge Sauron himself if only somebody would let him.
Elrond came into the room in the middle of one of the twins' more colourful stories, and rolled his eyes, saying, "Don't fill him with nonsense."
"You mean Legolas would be too scared to stand alone before the stronghold of the Deceiver and challenge him?" Estel asked innocently.
Elrond opened his mouth and then shut it again. "No," he said finally. "But that is not because Legolas is brave, penneth. It is because he is foolish and pigheaded."
"So he isn't really a brave warrior?"
"I didn't say that!" Elrond protested, looking outraged.
"Ada is very fond of Legolas, although he likes to pretend he isn't," Elladan whispered. "Do not say such things, Estel, or you will anger him."
"Really, Elladan!" Elrond said, rolling his eyes again with a most uncharacteristic expression of exasperation. "Do not frighten the child."
Estel smiled at the memory. Legolas had not been in the least as he had imagined. He had ridden to Eryn Lasgalen expecting to be introduced to a frowning Sindarin warrior prince who would not even want to speak to him and would spend all his free time fletching arrows, and had met instead a young ellon as light of heart as the Silvan elves of his father's kingdom, despite the ravages of the encroaching shadow.
It had never been easy on Estel, being a lone human child raised in a household of the Eldar. He knew, of course, that the elves of Elrond's line, having Mortal blood themselves, understood his predicament far more than any others would have done, and he felt infinitely grateful that he had not grown up in Lórien or Mithlond or Eryn Lasgalen, kind though he knew the elves of those realms to be.
He turned over again, finally feeling himself being dragged into dreams.
Eredhion slew another orc, only half his mind on the task. The other half was on Legolas and Bregolien, locked in a desperate battle in the middle of the clearing. Eredhion knew better than to interfere and risk distracting his friend, but he was cold with terror. If he and Voronwë had known that this was what they would find on what was supposed to be a short trip to let Legolas calm down, they would have kept the prince in the palace by force.
He knew, with a sense of dread, that there was a very real danger that Legolas would lose the fight. Skilled warrior though the Greenwood prince was, Bregolien had far more experience and the strength of utter madness.
As though on cue, he heard a stifled gasp from Legolas. He spun, unmindful of the orcs, in time to see the blonde elf stagger back, blood welling from a gash across his chest. Bregolien smiled gleefully, raising his sword to strike the final blow. Legolas just managed to block it in time.
Eredhion's attention was jerked back to his surroundings when his elven senses caught the approach of an orc and he just managed to raise his knives in time to parry the killing blow aimed at his head. He fought on, desperately; the orcs were nearly all dead and somehow he had to slay the few remaining in time to help his prince.
As though from a distance, he could hear Bregolien and Legolas breathing more heavily as they both began to tire. He slashed and cut with mad haste, his heart nearly stopping when he heard a yelp from Legolas, followed by the clatter of one of the knives falling to the ground. He did not dare turn, but he attacked the two remaining orcs with manic ferocity. As soon as he had felled them, he whirled, dropping his knives into their sheaths and raising his bow in one smooth movement.
Legolas was on his knees on the ground, his knives crossed over his head. Bregolien's sword was against the knives, and the two elves were pushing at each other with all their strength. It was easy to see which of his knives Legolas had dropped; his right sleeve was torn and bloody.
Eredhion was not the most skilled of archers, but there was no way he could miss at this distance. He drew the string back and fired.
The arrow struck Bregolien in the shoulder. He dropped his sword with a cry of pain, his gaze instantly going up to Eredhion. The young warrior shivered; there was something crazed in Bregolien's eyes. He seized another arrow and aimed for Bregolien.
"Get away from him," he said calmly. "Slowly. Back off, and do not even think about reaching for any concealed weapons you may have."
Legolas lowered his knives and watched Bregolien step back cautiously. He half-turned to glance at Eredhion; then his eyes widened in surprise and he cried out a warning. Eredhion threw himself to the ground just in time to avoid the knife aimed at his throat by an orc that had been not quite dead. When he looked up again, Bregolien was gone.
"Legolas!" Eredhion got to his feet and ran to his friend. The blonde elf had his head bowed and his eyes shut. "Legolas, look at me!" Eredhion shook him. "Legolas!"
The prince opened his eyes the merest crack.
"Eredhion."
"Can you walk? We have to get to safety. A lot of his human servants were missing, did you notice? He may have sent them for reinforcements."
"I'll slow you down… Go."
"Don't be ridiculous," Eredhion snapped. "You know perfectly well I won't leave you. Get up." He helped Legolas to his feet, taking most of his weight when it became clear that the elven prince could not stand on his own. "We should have brought horses."
Legolas laughed, softly.
"We should not have let them catch us."
"Legolas, you must focus. Listen to me. You know these woods better than any elf living. Is there somewhere safe for us to hide?"
Legolas shook his head as though to clear it.
"I will be fine," he said finally. "The trees will watch over me. You can go back to Lasgalen Palace – but do not tell ada I have been… hurt. If what Bregolien said is true –"
"Legolas," Eredhion said patiently, "I am not leaving you. Every minute you argue is a minute lost. Now think. You cannot go far until you have healed. Where can we hide?"
Legolas bit his lip.
"There are some hidden caves… Not far from here. Where Voronwë and I waited… then."
Eredhion frowned.
"Are you sure? I do not know that that will be the best thing for you under the circumstances."
"I will be fine."
Eredhion sighed. He did not believe that Legolas would be at all fine, but they truly did not have many options – every minute they stood arguing over it brought their enemies' return closer.
"Come, then. Which way?"
"West."
The two of them stumbled forward.
"You need help," Eredhion said, as calmly as he could. "You are seriously injured – don't argue – and I do not have the skill or the supplies to treat your wounds. Of course, things might have been different if you had given me enough time to collect –"
"I am –"
"Not fine, you young fool, no matter what you say. I am going to send word to the palace. You need help."
"No!"
"Legolas, you need –"
"You heard what Bregolien said. If my father hears of this – or the twins –"
"Well, what would you have me do?" Eredhion snapped. "Nothing?"
"That would seem to be a sensible –"
"Legolas."
The prince shivered suddenly.
"Send for Voronwë," he said. "Only Voronwë. He will know how to get to us without getting caught. The message is to go to nobody else."
"How do you think we're going to manage that?"
"He has a night patrol… Is today the full moon? He has patrol during the first watch," said Legolas, who knew the patrol schedule of practically every warrior in the Greenwood. "It should be easy enough… then."
Eredhion grunted.
"I know I am going to regret this – assuming your father lets me live to regret it – but all right."
WHAT DO YOU MEAN? Elladan roared, in a tone he had not dared to take to a tree in over seventeen centuries. Fortunately, this tree understood his frustration.
What I say, Noldo. The elfling sends word that he is well.
For the last time, you idiot oak, is – Legolas – hurt?
The elfling sends word –
Do I look like a dwarf or a moron? No? Then I do not want to know how Legolas says he is. I want to know how he really is.
I am no healer, Noldo, the tree said, sounding affronted. I know what the elfling tells me.
Please, mellon nîn, Thranduil put in. Please don't help him like this – for his own sake! If he is hurt it is best that we know as soon as possible that we may go to his aid.
The elfling sends word that he is well.
That's it! Elladan snapped. Enough of this! We're going after him!
Where will you go, Noldo? He knows the forest paths, and you will not find him unless he wants to be found.
You must help us, Elladan begged. Please. I care for Legolas as though he were my brother, surely even you can sense this. You must know that we intend him no harm.
The tree almost seemed to sigh.
I know, Noldo. But we dare not tell you – I fear for the elfling if he thinks that even the trees turn against him. He is in no immediate danger of his life.
And with that Elladan and Thranduil had to be content.
Voronwë sat back against the tree trunk, his eyes on the broad path that led straight to the gates of Lasgalen Palace. On either side of the path, elves were in similar positions in the branches, alert for the slightest sign of a threat.
In the prince's absence Aeroniel was commanding the patrol, and she looked nearly as worried as Voronwë felt – although her worry had a different cause. The elleth had never enjoyed being left in charge.
Voronwë Nendirion, he heard suddenly.
His eyes widened.
What do you –
Hush, the tree chided. Softly, young ellon. What I have to say is for your ears alone.
Voronwë felt a sense of dread.
What's happened to them?
They were attacked – but details are unnecessary. Listen to me, Nendirion, and listen well. Your prince is wounded and in need of healing – do not react! Sit still. I will tell you all, but you must be silent. He does not want anybody to know, because if Oropherion or the sons of Elrond hear of this, they will ride out to him – and to their own doom, so he believes. You may go to help him, if you will; you know the tracks almost as well as he does and a lone elf may cross in safety.
Where is he?
The hidden caves where you and he waited for the sons of Elrond when –
I know, Voronwë cut in, not wanting the tree to finish the sentence. I will go.
Not now. Wait until your patrol returns and slip out in the night. He is not in danger of his life; he will last until then.
Am I to leave no word, even, for the king? He will be frantic.
It is for his own good. But you had better leave some word to prevent him dashing out in a mad fury. It would be a pity to waste all the elfling's precautions.
Voronwë hesitated. How badly is he hurt?
I will not pretend that it is nothing, as the elfling keeps insisting. He is hurt… But the damage is more mental than physical.
Bregolien? Voronwë queried, feeling his heart sink as he worst fears were realized.
Aye, Nendirion. Bregolien.
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