Promised the updates would be sooner…didn't I? And after the way I left off last chapter—well, I thought you might be eager to see what happened next.

Chapter Eleven: Despair

The king gasped slightly and stepped back, dropping the orch. The creature stared a moment at the Elven king who stood frozen as if a blade had pierced his heart. Then it scrambled halfway to its feet and lurched away, seeking the safety of the forest and the night. Tiraran and Eregmegil, standing near their lord, quickly pounced on the orch. They struggled to subdue it a moment but eventually it was restrained, cursing and snarling on the ground.

Tiraran looked up anxiously at his king. He was not sure if Thranduil wanted this orch kept alive for further questioning. The remainder of the foul horde had been slaughtered by now; their captive was all that was left.

But the warrior had a far more important question as soon as he saw his lord. Thranduil's face was blank and white and his eyes sightless and wide. He still held his sword tightly, but he seemed to be no more aware of the weapon in his hands than he was of the green trees and black corpses scattered around them. The king swayed slightly and Tiraran glanced quickly at Eregmegil. The warrior nodded, indicating that he was more than capable of holding the foul orch on his own, and pressed his black-spattered blade to its neck as he pushed the creature's head further into the muddy grass. Tiraran rose swiftly to his feet and to his king's side.

"My lord," he said softly, but there was no recognition in Thranduil's eyes that someone was speaking to him. The Elven gon laid a hand on the other's arm and felt it trembling slightly. "My lord," he said again, "come." He gently drew Thranduil forward; the king did not resist him but did not acknowledge him either.

His once gleaming blue eyes were dull and shadowed, and Tiraran felt tears spring to his own eyes at the deep sorrow in the proud king's face. "Your people need you, aran nin," he whispered, but Thranduil only nodded distantly. Tiraran gently pried his lord's sword from a clenched hand and sheathed the blade for him. Thranduil did not react. The gon again grasped his king's arm and pulled him forward. The Elven-king allowed himself to be drawn away from the site of the battle.

Tiraran looked over his shoulder at his warriors, and, indicating the captive orch, shook his head. The creature had no time to flinch before Eregmegil drew his blade swiftly through its neck and rose, wiping the black blood roughly from his sword. The Elves moved out silently, leaving the carnage behind.

The only casualties had been yrch, and the only wounds the Elves had acquired were a few scratches and bruises, more from stepping too recklessly and close to the coarse orkish armor than from the crude blades that had been raised against them. And yet their steps were slow and heavy and their eyes grieved. They seemed more like a defeated army retreating from a rout than the victorious slayers of a band of yrch.

But that was because they had failed. The little prince had not been recovered; on the contrary, it seemed he was beyond their reach. Tiraran murmured a soft prayer that the child had felt no pain on his journey to Mandos's Halls, but he feared that it was far too little; far, far too late. He swallowed hard and fought back tears, knowing that he had to be strong right now for his king. He could not dwell on Legolas's loss.

Not unless he wanted to lose Thranduil as well.

The king was practically sleep-walking when they approached where Ladinion waited with the horses. The Elf leapt to his feet, eyes wide and questioning, but spoke no word when he saw the look on his gon's face. He helped Tiraran get Thranduil mounted, shooting silent questions at the elder warrior the whole time. Tiraran shook his head, heart too full to tell the story. He knew it was his duty, as their commander, but he could not bring himself to do so.

Let one of the other warriors relay to Ladinion what had happened—what they had learned. He could not bring himself to do it. He knew that Ladinion would take the loss hard. The young Elf had been enamored of the little prince and had spent a great deal of time instructing the eager pupil in the finer points of archery, for which Legolas possessed an affinity to match the young warrior's. But now…

Tiraran shook his head, shutting off thoughts of the past. He could not afford to dwell on his own sorrow. His king needed him.

He had been there when Oropher fell in the Gladden Fields, and he had stood by his then-prince in both rage and sorrow. He had been there for his lord then, as he had been through the years of ruling Greenwood. He knew the king's heart better than most and would give his life in an instant to protect his beloved liege. And yet he could do nothing to ease this loss. There was no war to be fought now, no wrath with which to stave off sadness until the pain had lessened. There was duty to his people, yes; but would that be enough for the king to throw himself into? Could anything consume him enough to distract from his son's death?

Tiraran rode slowly ahead of the king, for Thranduil stared blankly ahead without moving. He would not fall from the horse, but he was not aware of the pale steed beneath him. Tiraran patted the horse's neck and whispered, "follow." Lhagrloth, he knew, would trail him obediently without her rider's guidance. They set out slowly, and if any of the other Elves noticed that the king did not ride at their head they made no mention of it.

Tiraran glanced back at his king, and felt sorrow threaten to overwhelm him once more. Only once before had he seen such a look in his lord's eyes, and that had been a fleeting moment of helplessness as Oropher died, and had vanished in commanding wrath within seconds. Thranduil had been lost for only a moment on the battlefield before he grimly took command of the fight and his people, leading them fearlessly against the darkness.

But now Tiraran wondered if his king could ever be found again.

……………….

Legolas had been antsy all night, waking before the afternoon had truly faded into evening. He had done his best to be patient, but every small noise made him jump and he had eventually started pacing rapidly up and down the tree branches, peering out anxiously into the forest. He learned exactly how little Fuiniel ever truly relaxed when he paced a little too close to her perch a few limbs away.

The girl had sprang to her feet, fully awake, and had a white knife pressed to his throat before he had had time to gasp. Legolas had quickly twisted nimbly from her tight grasp, then froze, eyes wide with contrition. She had yelled at him—in a quiet whisper, for safety's sake—but she seemed more frightened than angry. Legolas had apologized profusely both for waking her and for startling her as she grumpily replaced the long knife in her quiver. Then she had glared at him.

"Why do you wake so early?" she snapped. "Did we not travel far and fast enough for you last night? For should you wish, I shall gladly press us harder in order to insure tiredness."

"I am sorry," Legolas said quickly, head hanging in shame. "I did not mean to wake you! Please do not be upset." He risked a glance, but she had turned her face away and he could not see her mood beyond the stiff set of her shoulders. "I promise not to disturb you if you go back to sleep," he offered meekly.

With a sigh, Fuiniel sat down again. "It is all right," she assured him grudgingly. "I was startled, and frightened at what I nearly did."

Legolas smiled only a little tremulously at her. "Don't worry," he replied easily, "nothing happened."

Fuiniel sighed and shook her head, and the little prince was reminded of some of the elder Elves in the palace when he said something they thought was childish. He frowned; she was only a little older than he, why did she think he was being childish?

Then Legolas sobered, remembering the snatches she had spoken of her past. He supposed that while they might be close in age, she was older than her years would imply. Fuiniel settled herself back on her branch to return to slumber. Legolas sat down, determined not to interrupt this time, and tried to will himself to be still.

But he still felt odd, almost as if there were something not quite watching him so much as around him, patiently waiting. Legolas did not feel patient. In fact, he felt rather the opposite, and had to remind himself to be still so as to not disturb Fuiniel's sleep. It was difficult; he felt certain that something was…not wrong, but strange. And an unwelcome strange, as well. He wished his ada were here to tell him what to do and to tell him what this was—but there was no one. He was alone. Pushing that thought from his mind when he felt tears threaten to grow in his eyes, the elfling took a few slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself as he had been taught. That worked for only a moment before the prickling on the back of his neck intensified. He fidgeted with a few strands of hair, absently braiding and knotting them, doing his best not to move.

Finally unable to remain still any longer, Legolas ran lightly up the tree branches to the highest boughs, thinking that perhaps the clouds and sun above would be soothing. At the least, he would be far enough away that his anxiety should not wake Fuiniel again.

The elfling nimbly settled himself among the thin twigs and leaves, and turned his small face towards the familiar sky with a smile. Then blue eyes grew wide and he stared for a moment in shock and sudden fear before silently scrambling back down to the lower branches where Fuiniel was resting.

The small prince was almost shaking as he dropped through the autumn-tinged green leaves. Above his pale head, darkness grew.

……………

Fuiniel wandered the paths of Elvish dreams, her eyes glazed and turned away from the trees around her. In her mind, she walked through foggy clouds of gray. Her dreams were chill and comfortless, empty and achingly lonely, but that was better than remembering.

Anything was better than remembering, even nothing. Especially nothing.

But then there was something, and trained by fear and anger, she snapped instantly to alertness as a small hand lightly shook her arm. Fuiniel grabbed her sword tightly before her dark eyes had even focused on Legolas's pale face. The elfling looked frightened.

"What is it?" she whispered quieter than dry leaves falling from their dead branches.

"The moon—it will not be coming out tonight!" Legolas hissed back worriedly.

Fuiniel frowned. "Of course it will; in three nights it will be full!" she replied in annoyance and confusion.

The little prince shook his head, blue eyes solemn. "An eclipse," he said quietly, voice pitched just a little too high although no other sign of fear shook his features.

Fuiniel swallowed but did her best to appear nonplussed. "The stars will still grant enough light to see by," she said too firmly. Her hand was wrapped so tightly about her fath—around her sword, that her pale knuckles had turned bone-white. "We will be fine," she said with heavy confidence and grasped Legolas's shoulder to reassure him with the touch—not herself, for she was not afraid, the girl told herself. "Do not fear."

"I shall not," Legolas replied too quickly and too surely, every bit as upset as she was and every bit as determined to hide it.

"It is perfectly natural," Fuiniel continued. "Back ho— in the villages and the palace, they are no doubt getting ready to stay up all night and dance and watch it. Aran Thranduil will have called a festiv—" Her voice caught and fell silent as Legolas turned his face away and bit his lip. Fuiniel cursed herself silently; she had forgotten that the elfling with her was the aran's son. She had not meant to mention his father; doubtless Legolas was already homesick and lonesome. She had only made it worse. Fuiniel knew what it was to miss a father; how could she be so thoughtless?

"It will probably be a very nice festival," Legolas said in a small voice, face still hidden behind a pale curtain of golden hair.

"Everyone will be enjoying it," she forced herself to agree. Fuiniel caught his hand and pulled until he sat down beside her. A chill passed through her as she realized how true her statement was. Everyone will be enjoying the eclipse—even the yrch. Complete darkness in the midst of night? They would be literally howling with blood.

Fear made Fuiniel shiver. "Come along," she said with as much false cheer as she could muster, "since we are awake, we may as well make use of the time. Let us start moving."

"I am sorry I woke you again," Legolas said contritely. "I know I promised not to, but I forgot—"

"Think no more of it. It was time that I woke anyway, and that was news worth doing so to hear. Come now, let us be off. We will have a long—dark—night ahead of us."

Legolas nodded silently and the two elflings proceeded slowly through the autumn-drying trees. Both children were determined to be brave for their companion, but while they knew that the eclipse was perfectly natural it somehow seemed an omen. As the darkness moved a shadow across the glowing orb rising in the sky, a similar one dropped across the hope that flickered tenuously in their hearts. They refused to despair—but it was difficult tonight, as the light faded from their sight. The elflings flitted like frail wraiths through the branches, hands clasped tightly as dusk fell.

Behind them, the first leaves of fall followed, spiraling slowly to the ground where, some time later, they would be crushed and trampled beneath the coarse, heavy feet of yrch.

gon — commander
aran — king

Reviewer Responses:

Deana – okay! How's this? By the way, Race is great. And we're almost done? Does that mean we finally get a cured Elf? Hmmmmm? (Yes, this is a hint! lol)

Alma – I have nothing to say to that save for thank you, from the deepest part of my heart! That, and I promise to do my very best to fulfill your wish. bows.

Laiquendi – thank you very much! Hmm, maybe not crack yet, but there's definitely a hairline fissure… but tell me, is the score still Thranduil – 1, orcs – 0? I know, I love him too. Which is bad news for him, I suppose, considering what I do to the characters I love, but…oh well!

I'm sorry guys, I'm really tired right now for whatever reason so I can't think up anything to say here. I'll just go to bed now and hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'll be back soon. Yawn!