Dear guys,
I'm so sorry for not updating for so long! Has it been a month? I dunno but I am SO sorry. Schoolwork and other stuff has had me under a lot of stress and I have nearly no time to post. I'm sure this isn't in HIATUS yet but...I'm doing the best I can. Thanks for all of your patience and devotion! You guys rock!
By the way, I'm thinking of a couple of things. I wanted to make another POV. So I'm going to give you guys a few options and you can state your opinion in the reviews. Do you guys want a/an...?
Elrond POV
Gilraen POV
Thranduil's horse POV (just because the horse is awesome)
Or you could name any other suggestions. If they're good, I will probably try and experiment with it! I want to diversify my writing style, because I LOVE Legolas and he's my precious little baby but I know he can't be the only guy with a POV. *Sigh*
Try to have a nice day/night!
- Badass Archer Daughter
Chapter 14
"WHAT? Me? WHY? Why can't you do it?!"
Estel hissed at the elf and glared at him. Who did the elf think he was, throwing Estel into the face of danger? Was he some kind of offering? Was Legolas just going to hand him over as if to say, 'Hey guys! Look, I might need that map of yours but here, have a juicy adan as a reward! Fair exchange, huh?'
Legolas glared at him, covering his mouth with one hand and he peaked out of the bush they were hiding in. Soon, Estel had realized his mistake...he had spoken too loudly. Quickly shaking the hand off, he huddled next to the elf and watched from a tiny gap as an orc frowned, looking at their direction. Grumbling and grunting, he headed towards them, his beady eyes squinting in annoyance, spear in hand. The crunch of his boots came closer and closer, the rust of his armour clanking about.
"Oh damn, damn, damn," muttered Estel. "What are we going to do? We're going to get caught! We're going to-"
"Calm down pussy pants," said Legolas, rolling his eyes, a smile widening in his face. "It seems we're going to have to perform my plan earlier. Perfect! Give me your knife."
Estel was about to argue back. If this situation was 'perfect' then...damn, this elf needed to re-define his dictionary. Besides, 'pussy pants' wasn't a nickname he liked. However, he decided not to argue and handed the knife over to the archer, who held it skillfully and then crouched, watching as the orc came closer, oblivious to his upcoming doom.
In one strike, Legolas sprang up like a spring and stabbed the orc in the throat before he could react. A faint gurgling sound escaped the orc and Legolas rapidly dragged him back into the thick woods to hide, urging Estel to follow him. They pranced and hid behind a thick clump of trees, secure that they weren't being followed and they both sighed with relief.
"Valar, that was a close one," said Estel, panting even though they had possibly only traveled a mile or less.
"Well, it wouldn't have happened if a certain adan boy had kept his trap shut," said Legolas to a scowling boy, although it was very true. "Now in the other hand, this is perfect! This is exactly what I wanted! Now we have a dead orc's armour and look...it even sort of fits on you! This is fantastic. Maybe Mandos is giving me mercy for once!"
[AN: LOL, sorry Legolas. Probably not]
"Fantastic? We could have been killed by two hundred orcs! Or worse...we could have been tortured and then killed! Or even worse than the worse! We could have been tortured, then killed and then cooked!" exclaimed Estel.
"But we didn't," pointed out Legolas, stabbing the orc a few times ("just to make sure," he had said, because blood gurgling out of the thing's throat just wasn't enough evidence) and stripping the armour off him. "So we're fine."
Estel sighed, closing his eyes and leaning against a bark. How would he have known that he'd end up with a crazy elf who was friends with possessed assassins and talking trees? How would he have known he'd end up getting killed various times, traveling through many hardships and infiltrating into orc compounds? He shook his head, a faint smile of amusement entering him. His father would've disapproved.
"Fighting and adventures are only for the rash...I have good faith in you, Estel. My very best wishes are that you do not end up like your brothers," Lord Elrond had said one day in dinner, making everybody, except the twins, burst out with laughter. Estel remembered that day and right now, he longed for it. It had been Yule Day's Eve and there had been a ridiculously large feast, happy music and a lot of warmth and nose. Everybody had been there and because of the merry spirits, nobody had cared if he and his mother joined. He had almost...fitted in! It had felt amazing, sitting with his father, the twins laughing and being their usual selves, his mother glowing...not worrying if he was acting like the clumsy adan or not.
If only everyday could be like that.
"There," said Legolas, returning the knife to Estel, interrupting his thoughts and pointed to a heap of rusty armour, which just coincidentially was a mere few inches too large for Estel. "We need to act fast. There is much you need to know and much I need to teach. But you are expected to return to your post in a few minutes..."
"WHAT? Who told you I'm actually doing this mad idea of yours?!" exclaimed Estel. "And as I was saying, why can't you do it?"
"Isn't it obvious?" asked Legolas, rolling his eyes. "First of all, I'm too beautiful to be an orc. Besides, we'd also have to hide my hair and my elven features. If we succeed with that, they would still realize I'm an elf because of my glow. Second of all, the smell...orcs have very good sense of smell, surprisingly. So they can detect my flesh in an instanct, even with all this garbage on. But you, my dirty little mud-soaked adan friend, are perfect for the job. They won't suspect a thing."
Estel scowled, muttering "stupid narcissistic elf" under his breath several times over but then his face softened as he heard one word...friend. His features fell down and Legolas frowned at the boy as suddenly, his mind clouded. Friend. Other than his mother, his father and the twins, he'd never had a friend. Ever. After all, who wanted to become friends with the clumsy, different adan boy? Who would bother spend their precious time with him?
"Hey, what's wrong, Estel? If it helps, you aren't that mud-soaked," asked Legolas, slightly concerned.
"I-It's nothing," said Estel. "B-But what you said, about being a friend..."
"Yes?"
"A-Am I really? Am I really a friend?"
"Gee Estel, I guess," said Legolas shrugging uncomfortably, kneeling down to pick up the first few pieces of armour Estel needed to wear. "I mean...I'm not really sure. I met you only a few weeks ago but if we manage to get out of this all right...sure. I'd be your friend. You seem like a nice kid. So, are you going to do it?"
Estel's high hopes sunk. So he wasn't really a friend...he was just, as Legolas put it, "a nice kid." Although sure, there was logic in the elf's words. You wouldn't just befriend someone because you spent a couple of weeks together. Estel didn't know why he was disappointed...he should've expected it. Even after all of the death threatening situations they'd been through. He sighed, regretting what he'd say next.
"Fine, I will, but wait...I have one last question."
"Go ahead."
"Why did you think of this plan while you said about 'hope?' You kept repeating it a lot and it was kind of...batty. So why did you do it?"
"Oh, that? Well, it's simple really. Hope led me to this plan because we just need to hope that we get out alive of this mess."
O-O-O
Beluriel watched the novices in Imladris shoot their bow and arrows.
She remembered when Legolas had taught her how to shoot with them. It had been a long time but she still remembered...She had been clumsy, much better with blades and heavy weapons, despite her petite demeanor. Being the blacksmith apprentice had some impact on that. She remembered how clumsy she'd been, how long she'd fumbled with the bowstring and how she hadn't even managed to hit the target in months worth of training.
Legolas hadn't chastised her though. The elf had been trained a while by Lord Glorfindel, the balrog slayer, himself but he had still guided her fingers to the right spot. He had always been there, silently watching and guiding her. Giving her patient remarks, even when she felt like she was hopeless.
She sighed. If only she had also learned some of his tracking skills. She felt so stupid here, doing nothing. The others must be doing a lot of things. All the other soldiers were being part of the search and here she was, the very lost prince's apprentice, eating peaches and lounging in paradise. She wondered how the search was going at home. The prince and princess must be sending out patrols and the king was no doubt probably part of at least one of them. She had a faint smile. Beluriel remembered a long time ago, when she was still not used to the high life of being the prince's apprentice, when she'd accompany Legolas to archery practice and he'd complained all afternoon about his father's harsh treatment.
And sure, quietly they agreed that the Elf-king could indeed be an arsehole when he wanted to but she insisted and knew that in the inside, all King Thranduil felt for his youngest was love and that he really cared for his well-being, no matter how Legolas thought about it. The elf had only snorted in response.
"If he does, then he has a really strange way of showing it," he had said and shot a perfect bull's eye...as always.
Beluriel shook her head from those thoughs and looked down. From the balcony up in the room she'd been granted, she had a clear view of the novices. Most of them, like she had, struggled with the bowstring and the teacher, a young-looking elf, tried to keep a neutral face as he corrected each and every one of their mistakes, even the dumb ones.
Suddenly, sensing a creeping presence behind her, she fingered one of the small, handy knives she always brought with her and then in one swift move, unsheathed it and pointed it at the figure's neck as she turned around. She paled though, when she saw who it was and put it back in place, mumbling an apology.
Gilraen looked at the blade wearily and then looked at Beluriel, a small amused smile on her face. "Hmm...so my reading has paid off a little. They say your kind are very prepared, although I never expected it to be this prepared." She pointed to the empty spot next to Beluriel in the balcony. "May I?"
"Of course," nodded Beluriel and for a while, both of them watched the bright afternoon sun shine on the sweating elves as they practiced their archery. Some of them had improved drastically and were now shooting nimbly at the targets, although some missed, some hit the outer rings, which was pretty good she supposed. "There are books of my kind here?"
"Yes, although not many. Their information is scarce though. The author states that you are all secretive folks and that your infamous Elf-king is not so fond of visitors, so nobody has truly gathered any information on your culture."
"Infamous?" smirked Beluriel. "Then this author of yours definitely has a reliable source."
"Indeed he does...I dunno if it's polite to ask, but has your king truly locked anybody in those dungeons of his?" asked Gilraen curiously, although carefully, as if she were a weaver making a quilt. "I mean, that's what the author said but I didn't think that-"
"No, it is all right," said Beluriel nodding in amusement. She'd heard plenty of tales from others about their dungeons and those who had been sort of lucky to escape them. "And yes, he has. Many times. Although...let's say our sire uses them when he deems it appropriate. Our prisons are legendary though. Not many have been rumored to escape our cells. Only are they allowed to leave by our king's consent."
"Oh," said Gilraen quietly and looked down at the floor, deep in thought.
Beluriel gulped silently. She hated silence. Being part of a family of six, there had never been a day where she didn't hear the arguments of her sisters or the screeching of his mother. Never had she not heard the sulking of her brother or the jokes of her father. She was used to noise, to happiness, to laughter...but it was almost as Gilraen's presence could quiet her down. It was a powerful thing...but perhaps that was why she was a natural born queen.
Wracked with guilt, Beluriel admitted she had avoided the woman for days after her realization. She looked at Gilraen with a new perspective...I mean, this was a queen! A true, regal queen! Should she bow down? Should she continue treating her normally? Confusion clouded her judgement. And here Gilraen was, treated like a strange bug by the other elves here. It was outrageous but preposterous at the same time. But still, she had been cautious about her and she was only a teensy bit aware...who knew what this queen had under her sleeve?
"So...archery, are you interested in it?" she asked, breaking the ice.
Gilraen looked up, although her face was etched in a frown. She looked down at the archers, her face solemn and sad. "M-My husband died like that. An arrow through the eye, along with other injuries. The bleeding was too much and they couldn't save him."
Beluriel internally slapped herself. Awkward. "Oh."
"Although..." a small smile entered Gilraen's face. "I do remember my husband giving me a few lessons. I was quite a klutz though, so we never practiced other than that time. Once, I even shot one of my husband's rangers, a man called Dírhaborn, in his arse. He was kind and carefree though, so he quickly dismissed the arrow sticking out of his hide with some laughs, as did everybody else."
"That must've been quite a scene."
"Indeed," she said and then sighed, looking out of the horizon. "Tell me, Captain Beluriel, when you are out in things like this, do you miss your home?"
"Of course I do," blurted out Beluriel without thinking. However, she slowly thought about it and then continued on. "The darkness corrups it at every breath. The trees' youthful energy falters and we find our home darkening every moment. Still, we have hope and we fight on. I have faith. Before they sailed to the Undying Lands, my grandparents used to tell me tales of Great Greenwood. I hope to see it myself one day and I know I will never tire of seeing its great woods...Besides, home will always be about you, Lady Gilraen?"
She looked up. "What about me?"
"What about you? Are you happy here? Has anybody asked you that? Do you desire to stay here?" asked Beluriel.
Gilraen looked down, quietly and then looked up once again, the sun shining brighter on her golden locks. "I-I miss my home in the North. Here, i-it is as if I am a stranger. At home, I fit in with everybody like a drop of water does in a river but here...it-it just isn't the same. I-I am grateful for Lord Elrond's assistance though and he has been the most gracious host. And Estel's clearly happy here. He-"
"Yes, yes, he is happy, your son. We can see that. But what about you, Lady Gilraen? What do you want?"
The answer came quick and confident, without any need of a lot of thinking. It was a sure and strong, without one drop of hesitation. "Whatever is best for my boy."
O-O-O
Estel knew he'd done the worst mistake of his life as soon as his foot hit the fortress.
The armour was as heavy as a troll and at first, the young human had fallen down on the floor, only to be whisked up by Legolas, who insisted he was exaggerating and that it was as 'light as a feather.' Estel had only snorted, glaring at the stupid elf. However, after some gulping and initial anxiousness, he'd set off, trotting down the hill, wondering why he'd ever agreed to do this.
Under the heavy armour, Estel wore the same garment. However, hidden under a piece of armour covering his knee, the elf had hidden Estel's small knife...just in case things didn't come as planned. The boy had asked Legolas what exactly might go wrong but all the elf had offered him was an enigmatic smile and a harder shove forward.
He grunted. That stupid elf. Maybe he'd try to throw him into the river.
That is, if I get out alive, thought Estel as he headed towards the rim of the camp.
Holding the spear the orc had come with, he scuttled down, trying not to fall. It wasn't exactly the easiest task, though since Estel wasn't used to all this armour and nonsense. He went down the hill and into the fortress.
From the small crook of his helmet, he could barely see it. He could see about half of what he could normally see but at least he knew where he was going. The fortress was not that big, or at least it wasn't according to his brothers' description of other orc fortresses, but he supposed those anecdotes were mainly composed of exaggeration, so he shook it off. There was a wooden tower, about just two stories high along with ten large tents and five smaller, more private ones. There were also three small holes and a pretty large one the orcs were currently digging at, perhaps to mine from. Surrounding all of this, were four massive torches, blazing with fire and occasionally used to light campfires.
All the orcs seemed relatively busy. Either some were working and carrying loads of things or they were just walking around and standing watch, making weird gurgling sounds that must have been laughs and eating food while talking to each other. Nevertheless, Estel had no idea how to act like an orc and didn't want to be incredibly suspicious as soon as he stepped in.
He had expected at least some advice from Legolas but no, nothing. The elf had only shrugged and as Estel quoted, "Hey! Plans never actually work anyways. Improvisation is the key, pussy pants. Improvisation."
Sigh. Improvisation. Why did that sound so familiar?
Nevertheless, Estel's big mouth had gotten him into this big trouble and it was his responsibility now. The boy walked in, his heart thumping like a drum and decided to act tough. After all, didn't his father describe them all as 'barbaric?' He walked with some swagger, in order to radiate some authority but it ended up catastrophically when he lost balance with the heavy weight. He accidentally rushed into another walking orc, making him drop his stack of wood.
Estel held his breath and quickly stood up, mumbling uncoherently before he watched as the orc got up, scowled angrily and glared at him with beady eyes. "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU BLOODY ARE? Look what you've done, Garshu! You cow-brained asshole! Go rot in a volcano and watch where you're walking next time, idiot!"
The orc hissed at him, gathered his stuff and then using his wood he whacked Estel and shoved him backwards into the dirt, landing face-first into mud.
When he made sure the orc had gone on and was not going to do anything else, the human let out a sigh of relief. He gagged inwardly as he got up and wiped some mud out of his armour. It kind of hurt where he was hit but he supposed it was better than getting discovered and tortured. Besides, before putting the armour on, Legolas had smeared his own coating of what he called 'camouflage paint' on the boy, saying it'd hide the boy's light skin and 'appetizing' smell, so the mud wasn't all that bad. Still...it was kind of disgusting. Grumbling, he went on aimlessly, picking up his discarded spear.
At least he knew his name. Garshu. That could be useful...but ugh, even Estel sounded better than that.
So acting 'tough,' wasn't going to work around here. Hmm...then maybe he should get another perspective. Maybe polite and not interfering with other orcs' business? That sounded all right, he supposed. Estel looked around. He needed to get some insight information on the inside. Especially in the wooden tower. The important things must be there, including Bulgan and Legolas' so well-desired map.
However, as he walked around, a delightful smell soon came into nostrils. Or well, at least a pretty good one. He looked behind him and immediately his stomach started to rumble. In a nearby campfire, five orcs were reunited there, cooking in a pot what seemed to be deer stew. They were also munching pieces of bread and mushy mutton porridge. Estel tried to think about the last time he had eaten real meat and realized that it had been in perhaps Fangorn, so, so long ago.
He was interrupted in his day dream when out of a sudden, he was shoved and he fell unto the floor, the spear clattering down and his armour clanking as his face and chest hit the ground face-first.
And he ate mud, again. How delightful.
"I said, move out of my way, runt!"
Estel looked up and was about to snap to whoever had such a large ego, that he could stuff himself into a sack and fed to the wargs when he realized it was a rather large-looking orc. He gulped. He looked like one of Bulgan's lieutenants, since he was larger than the rest and his armour was much shinier, made of a darker, richer material.
Instead though, he kept quiet and only looked up, quickly scuttling out of the way. "O-Of course, sorry. My apologies. Go ahead."
"Finally," snorted the orc and he forced all of his three other 'followers' to laugh, even though there was nothing funny. "Learn some manners, will you?"
Estel didn't know why but he knew as soon as the reply came out of his mouth, that it was incredibly stupid. As the orc and his cronies were walking away, he suddenly blurted, "Well, you could use some of it too!"
Oh damn, thought Estel as suddenly the orc turned his head and growled at him. "What. Did. You. Say. To. ME. Peasant?" He said, with every word getting closer to Estel. Soon, he was right in front of him, his mouth inches from his face and a terrible odor exerting out of it.
"I-I said that maybe you could try to follow your own words," said Estel, trying to make it sound less insulting and then slapped himself internally...he was definitely getting himself killed. He tried to look around and find Legolas but the elf was nowhere to be seen...he was on his own. Gulping, he winced as with one hard tug, the lieutenant grabbed him from his armour and pushed him against the ground, groaning.
His beady eyes glared into Estel's. "NOBODY tells me what to do! Especially some kind of lowly idiot like you! Now tell me, what's your name limp chicken noodle?"
Estel was too afraid to laugh at the incredibly non-creative insult but was almost about to smirk. He decided not to, for his head was crushed against the dirt. Turning his head around, he spit out some mud and croaked, "Garshu..."
"Garshu? Pft, my father will hear about this!"
[AN: LOL, Draco Malfoy! Spoiled orc brat much?]
One of the lieutenant's cronies cackled, grinning wickedly at Estel's mud-streaked face. Although it sounded more like choking, really. "Yes! Our great lord will have your head on a stake for your ignorance! You can't treat his son with such disrespect!"
Our lord? Son? HEAD ON A STAKE?! Estel put these words together and suddenly, he knew what they were talking about...
Of course, because out of ALL the orcs Estel could've bumped into, he had to bump into Bulgan's son.
Estel gulped as Bulgan's son growled and glared at his 'friend,' shoving him backwards. The thing squealed and Bulgan's son laughed, turning his attention back to Estel. The human boy could predict that with one twist of his body with the orc's meaty, strong arms, Estel could be as dead as a chicken. "SHUT UP! I decide what to do with him. Father will certainly like to have some meat for today's dinner."
"Oh really?" Estel had a plan. It was a Legolas-style plan...crazy, but brave and ingenious. "Are you so cowardly that you wouldn't want to fight a simple orc like me? Or did your daddy give you your position?"
A big 'ooh' spread through the crowd, which had formed around them. The orc growled and glared, hissing like a snake at the boy who was basically trembling, struggling to come up. He then made a great punch and aimed it at the boy's gut. It had the intended effect and BAM! Estel fell backwards, once again in the mud, clutching himself in slight pain, muttering under his breath. The orc roared wildly, thumping his chest like an ape. Others cheered for him, while others, to save their own dirty hides, said nothing.
"I AM RAKNAK, SON OF BULGAN!" Raknak roared. "BULGAN, SLAYER OF THE ELVES, BANE OF MEN, LORD OF A THOUSAND HEADS AND SUPREME LEADER OF THE ORCS OF THE RED HILL! BUT I AM HIS SUCCESSOR, HIS HEIR AND HIS MOST NOBLE ACCOMPLISHMENT!"
Wow, some titles. And although Estel was terrified, especially at the 'bane of men' one, he actually thought they weren't too bad. I mean, compare this Bulgan's application to Estel's. The boy's application might just be knife wielder, good equestrian, trouble magnet and oh! A good one...lembas thrower.
It was kind of obvious who'd get the job.
Estel pulled himself out of the mud, spitting some out and he summoned his courage. "Well, is this how we're doing? Oh...so the 'oh-so' mighty father's boy is not honorable enough to fight with his opponent standing? So he has to push him down in order to have a fair fight! What kind of 'noble warrior' is that?"
The crowd fell silent as Raknak glared at the boy with a burning anger. "NEVER! I am one of the greatest warriors in the entire universe! No orc like you could beat me! I could beat you little runt anyday, any time."
"Right," grinned Estel. His plan was working. Sort of. "A duel. Here, at the same place. At dusk. Let's see who ends up eating mud next time!"
But before Raknak could do anything else to him, he left, the crowd making a path for him, gaping at him with newfound admiration. Either he was being very brave or he was stupidly begging for his death. Estel walked off, feeling just a slightly bit triumphant. His plan had earned him some time. Dusk was about five hours away, which was enough for him to think of a strategy to beat this humongous pack of fat.
He sighed. First though, he needed to get some information. Somehow, he had to get into the fortress and try to find out where Bulgan's quarters were. Then, if possible, he might even steal the map back for Legolas. Easy, right? Estel shook his head, going farther and farther into the woods, heading towards the rim of the camp, where two orc guards were posted, mumbling to each other rapidly and pointing at him. There was probably some trick here, some flaw. Nothing was ever going to be easy for him.
But first, he needed to talk to Legolas.
O-O-O
"Why did my youngest have to end up so stupid? Thalos and Aurell ended up decent somehow...why couldn't Legolas have ended up the same?"
Thranduil grunted as he slowly got out of his stallion.
The horse looked back at him, neighing in annoyance and turned his back against his master. King Thranduil could even swear he saw a slight rolling of eyes! He mumbled the horse to stay nearby as he went off, walking even deeper into the woods. The horse paid him no heed, neighing even harder, as if to say, I am a damn independent horse who doesn't need you taking care of me! The king sighed in equal annoyance. As soon as he found his stupid son, he would give him the horse.
At least they had matching personalities.
Fangorn was not as similar as it used to be when Thranduil last came. Sure, the appearance was about the same. The same tall, dark green trees still stood, curling to make a graceful arch. The same queer essence was still about and the purity and wisdom of the forest remained. The forest was still beautiful he supposed, in it's queer own special way. However...it had changed. You could visually see the normally magically enhanced forest become older, weaker. And there was something radiating from it as well and it was something he recognized well...
Anger.
He walked inside, his head as tall as ever. How queer was it that the last two times he'd come here were because of different reasons but for the same person? He snorted, the answer popping out in his head. Because your son is stupid, he will always be and you know it. And of course, Thranduil did.
Thranduil didn't remember him causing his father this much problem. He remembered being quite a wreck when he was an elfling, always jumping around and swinging from the palace's intricate chandeliers and hopping unto furniture. As a teen though, he had soon been cured of his reckless behaviour and his mother's more serious complexion, coming out of the palace only for practice and patrols. He had turned bitter, snarky and arrogant with all the stress of being the crown prince, which made him into one of Greenwood's most hated figures. That was, until he'd met a certain raven-haired maiden...
He shook his head, not her, not now.
The worst problem he'd ever given his father, in fact, was making a flour bomb in the kitchen and smearing the walls with it. They'd taken two weeks to clean the entire mess and after a great deal of chastising, Oropher had secretly winked at his son, telling him it was actually a pretty well-done flour bomb and he couldn't have done one as good as Thranduil had in such a young age. And here was his son, throwing himself into the face of trouble and begging to get killed. What a difference.
But Thranduil supposed that it wasn't entirely Legolas' fault. So many things had changed and times weren't like they used to be in the past. When Thranduil had been four hundred, he had still been in training, snapping witty remarks and setting his instructor's trousers on fire. When Legolas had been four hundred, he'd graduated from his training and been assigned a patrol, fighting the darkness too soon.
And he felt sorry for that. This is the very reason why he and Miluneth, who were so alike in so many ways, had fought for months. She had always wanted children, always bright and cheery and hopeful. She said that children would give him hope and happiness, the hope Greenwood needed. He hadn't wanted to, or at least not yet. He didn't want a child to grow up in the shadows. To grow up and fight the darkness and be slaughtered by it in the night, delivered to them, swallowed by death. He didn't want an elfling to grow up that way...it just wasn't proper.
It was obvious who won the fight though and while Thranduil still did hold that guilt inside him...he held no regrets.
After trekking the forest for more than thirty minutes, the Elf-king paused. He might be much older now but his reflexes and instincts were still as good. He felt the slow rumbling of the earth, the soft shuddering of the leaves and a faint ripple in the wind. Quickly, in a matter of seconds, he unsheathed his sword and aimed it high at the Tree Ent behind him.
"Five hundred years have passed and still does the great Elf-king greet me the same way."
Treebeard hadn't changed a bit. Still as tall and strong as ever, he gazed upon Thranduil with that sassy yet wise look. It was hard to tell how the Ent was feeling since his face was so etched with so many emotions: happiness, amusement, weariness, wisdom, maturity, anger...and so much more. It sickened him but it also fascinated the elf.
"I take my cautions, Ent-friend," said Thranduil emotionlessly, putting his sword back. "Although I meant no ill feelings."
"Spare me your words, Thranduil Elvenking. Now, let me guess...you come for help?" said Treebeard, raising one amused eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Yes I do...and I suppose you might know for who it is," said Thranduil snorting and then launched himself into an explanation. "My youngest has run into trouble again, as he always has. A few moons past, he vanished, no one knows why. I, however, suspect a reason. His temper has gotten the better of him and he wants to redeem for himself after a grievous error he did in a patrol. He has run off possibly, to hunt this company of orcs I have been suspecting for long. I wish to know if they have by chance lurked near these woods or if you can help me find him."
Treebeard smiled. "Then you are truly lucky, Elf-king."
"And why would that be?"
"Your son passed through here not a few days past. He sought shelter from us and a child of the great Queen of Mirkwood is always a welcomed guest of ours."
And somehow, Thranduil burst. Stepping forward, he looked deep into the Ent's eyes. "How is he? Is he all right? How long exactly? Where did he leave? Why did he seek shelter? Did he say something about where he was going? Was he filthy? Was he famished? Was he-?" Suddenly, realizing how ridiculous some of this mother goose questions were, he paused, backing off as Treebeard chuckled and then he composed himself, his tone the usually dull one he possessed. "Did he look dead?"
Treebeard only laughed his dry, hoarse laugh even harder. "It would be hard to answer all your questions King Thranduil but yes, he looks very much alive...although I might not say the same about that when he was leaving. However, yes, the little boy he dragged with him wasn't that well off."
Thranduil had a lot to ponder on. First of all, how was his son when he was leaving? Why was he even leaving? And why-argh! Children...why did they have to be such a mess? Never mind that though, there was something he needed to clear out first. "Boy?"
"Yes, a small human boy of dark-haired hair, streaming down until his shoulders. Legolas has taken him as a travel companion it may seem. Very sick may I add, poisoned by the very infamous and almost incurable gur thul...surely you remember it."
"Of course I do," muttered Thranduil back, dark memories lingering behind his mind. He shook them off though. His ridiculous son. First, running off and trying to get killed and now teaming up with a human boy, of all beings? Humans were humans. Dirty and selfish. Legolas should know that. "I care not for this silly human my son has taken as a companion, what of him? Did he have injuries?"
"A few, not too many though. Easy to cure with some of your kingsfoil. The bath did him a lot of good though, I swear your son had a stench worse than the one of a sweating dwarf," sniffed Treebeard, shuddering, his branches clattering about. Thranduil could tell he was lying about the injury part, but he let it go. "Last time I saw though, they were pursued by orcs...again."
"Pursued by orcs? What? And...what do you mean again? You know what? Nevermind," grunted Thranduil, rubbing his temples. "I only wish to know where they might have gone...do you know?"
"He spoke of his quest, so you are indeed right on his purpose. And while the Entmoot and I prefer not to meddle with the affairs of others, we still keep watch of foreigners," said Treebeard, standing even taller, his back crunching and one of his long branches pointing to the southern part of Fangorn. "Some of the Ents have seen a pack of orcs over there, heading further south. I suppose you may not have to ride much."
Thranduil nodded, grateful, heading north. "Thank you for your assistance, Ent-friend."
"And where are you going now, Elf-king?"
"Me? I'm going to get my horse. I'm going to track down my son and I'm going to scream at him until he becomes bloody deaf and his ass becomes bloody rubble! I'm going to give that trouble maker a bloody lesson, yes I am! And finally I am going to drag his sorry little hide back home safely and lock him in his room."
Treebeard laughed, amused. "Indeed, that seems like...quite a punishment. But-"
"But?" snapped Thranduil back irritably. He very much loved his plan.
"But don't forget to say you're proud of him too. Some may call it stupidity but I do believe it takes some kind of bravery to g He's on this little quest of his for a reason and no matter how many times you lock him in, he might repeat it. He's young, Thranduil...sometimes there is no need to be so hard on him. Times are dark and tough but remember, what your son needs isn't more punishments, it's more acknowledgement. I know you truly care about him, Elf-king, but show it. Surely saying 'I love you' isn't that hard?"
Thranduil looked down...and said nothing.
O-O-O
"You know, Captain Beluriel, I'd say you were avoiding me for the past few days."
Later that day, Gilraen sought her again and by the defiant look in the woman's eyes, which could be pretty frightening, Beluriel knew this was the big deal. She knew the queen had been suspicious of her extremely cautious behavior around her and knew that one of these days...she would be facing her.
Beluriel looked up from the table she was in. She was in the library, trying to feel slightly productive and pinpointing possible locations in which Legolas could be in. Much to her surprise, Gilraen was standing next to her, unreasonably calm and mild but with a slightly...hurt look in her face.
"What? Why would you say that?" asked Beluriel, lying smoothly.
"Well, first of all, you haven't talked to me for days. And I notice that when I come close, you scutter away into the other corner of the room, as if you do not want to talk to me. Your face is nervous and your hands get agitated," said Gilraen and Beluriel inwardly winced at being outsmarted...and by a mortal woman, of all people! "So, what's the matter?"
"I'm sure I meant to offense, Lady Gilraen," said Beluriel. "Perhaps it has been just a mere coincidence?"
Lady Gilraen raised a blonde eyebrow. "Is that so?"
Valar, how could a woman be so intimidating? Obviously, Beluriel didn't break under her presence but how she would pay to see this queen battle Legolas' father! That almost made her laugh but she kept her face somber. "Yes, it is. I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable, my lady-" And it slipped.
My lady. She had been calling Gilraen by her name ever since that faithful incident on the first day of her visit. Gilraen looked at her, her arms tight around her chest and with a small, smug smile in her face. "So this is all what it's about, huh?" she said, not caring for an invitation and sitting in front of her. "This is exactly why I never wanted to tell anyone."
Beluriel sighed, giving in to the truth. "It's just my-I mean, Gilraen, that I don't understand it. You're a queen, for Valar's sake! And they treat you like a squashed bug here. They treat you like dirt. Why wouldn't you want to let them know? They ought to give you some more respect."
"Not so loud!" she hissed, making some elves give them strange looks before going on in their way. Gilraen's eyes were stormy. "I don't care about my well-being, Captain Beluriel. All I care is about is my son."
"You're still a living thing!" pointed out Beluriel.
"Captain, do you honestly think I came here to enjoy your elvish pleasantries?" snapped Gilraen and for a while, Beluriel was too shocked. Beluriel had never seen a woman as peaceful as her be so angry. "It's all grand and all, I admit but it's not home and I know it will never be. But I accepted it. I accepted this fate. I accepted all this risk...just because Estel likes it here. Because he's the only thing I have left from Arathorn!"
And then, she started to cry.
Beluriel had never been particularly good at comforting people. In fact, she seemed the one to make it all worse. She was often stiff and awkward and never thought straight when she was going to reply to someone. For example, in the day of her uncle's death who drowned in a fishing trip, she had attended his funeral and tried to comfort one of her little cousins. Legolas had advised her beforehand that jokes were always good. They made people laugh and laughter makes people happy, right? It didn't really go as she planned...
"Well, at least your father got to die richly, don't you think cousin? Because you know...I heard he got some goldfish in his catch. Huh? Goldfish? Get it? Get it? Ha! Ha!" she had said, winking at the end. Legolas said it added charisma to whatever you were saying.
She thought it was pretty funny but ahw guess some people just couldn't appreciate good humor. Her cousin had burst out crying, running to a disapproving-looking Aunt.
Legolas, in the other hand, was an absolute lady's man and was so patient, he could spent an entire Age listening to your problems, putting his own aside. She supposed she'd learned some of his tricks but...well, after that catastrophic incident in the funeral, who could know?
As Gilraen's tears flowed and as she sniffed, she talked and talked. Thankfully, no one seemed to be around, for it was around noon and everyone had gone to lunch, so they were alone. Beluriel put an awkward hand on her shoulder and said nothing, for she knew naught what she was going to say.
"And-And he warned me!" she said between sobs. "He said it was not going to be safe-" sniff, "-and that i-it could be dangerous! That-" sniff, sob, "-I could be risking my life! That I could easily-" loud sob, "be happy with another man!" She paused, choking over some of her snot. Beluriel offered her a handkerchief, which she took it without thanks and blew her nose with it. "A-And I just couldn't-" sniff, "-do that! Because I was so crazy in love with that brave, handsome, reckless man!" More sniffing and sobbing. "But now it's all my fault! My baby is out there, lost, afraid and...maybe even starving!"
Or dead, added Beluriel internally. Starving wasn't the worst of things. Although she didn't really think it was good to say it out loud. She imagined what Legolas would say. "Gee 'Luriel, for being one of the smartest elleths I know, you're pretty dense. I hope you don't attend my funeral." She summoned her courage, somewhat awkwardly. "Er...um...I don't think it's your fault-"
"OF COURSE it's my fault!" exclaimed Gilraen, sobbing even more. "If I hadn't been so selfish, maybe Estel would've had a normal family! Maybe he would've had a father! Maybe he wouldn't be so alienated by the other elflings!"
She continued crying.
Beluriel sighed and tried to be comforting. "No! It's not selfish...a child is a blessing. It is a gift. It symbolizes the union between two people, a never-ending love. Your husband may not be physically here with your son...but he will always watch over him. He lives in him, your son. He lives in your hope."
By this time, she didn't know what to do anymore. She hoped this random spurt of wisdom would slightly comfort her or at least make her stop crying, for Valar's sake! But no, this seemed to shake the woman even more and she weeped even harder.
Suddenly, popping out in front of them was a young squire. He didn't even look five hundred and was a mere child, his features still unmarred by battle and baby-ish. He wore purple, silver and blue robes and regarded the crying human woman with a frown. He looked at Captain Beluriel, as if to say, 'What's wrong with her?'
Beluriel shook her head quietly, mouthing. 'I have no idea.'
"Ahem," said the young one, looking at them. Gilraen looked up, her cheeks red and her eyes puffy. "My Lord Elrond has requested an audience with him in this instance. He would deeply appreciate if you met him in his office in ten minutes."
"What for?" asked Beluriel standing up, crossing her arms.
"I do not know, Captain," said the squire. "I was merely told to escort you there...if it is convenient, that is," he added, as he saw Gilraen's state.
"No problem for me. Lady Gilraen?" asked Beluriel carefully.
Gilraen sniffed, hand-combing her gorgeous golden curls and re-braiding them neatly. She sniffed once more, wiping the tears out of her face and regained herself. It was admirable, how someone so desolate-looking could compose herself so quickly. But well, maybe being a queen had to do with it. "Y-Yes, it's fine. Let's go."
After crossing several halls and many strange looks, the captain and the lady soon arrived at the office of the lord of the Last Homely House. Beluriel didn't know why but somehow, there was this butterfly-like feeling in her gut that told her this meeting was incredibly important...not just some afternoon tea with sandwiches. The squire stood outside, knocked carefully on the door and when a shout came from within, he opened the door carefully. Bowing down and excusing himself as Lord Elrond saw him. The two of them closed the doors.
Lord Elrond was just about the same as she'd seen him her first day of her stay, if not worse. It seemed he'd aged centuries, deep marks of time written in his face and plain worry. His tables, usually neat arrays of books and scrolls, were currently a crumbled up mess, with dozens of maps with pinpointed locations on top. However, as he saw them both, his stress was hidden behind a warm smile.
"Captain Beluriel, Lady Gilraen. I'm glad you got here in time!" he said and then frowned at Gilraen's puffy eyes. "Is...everything all right?"
"Oh, it's a-all right. Just got something in my eye," said Gilraen, although it was clear her lying skills were not so up to Queen level.
Nevertheless, Lord Elrond let it go. He leaned back in his chair and gestured them to sit. Beluriel pulled up two chairs for the both of them and then they sat, facing the stoic and yet ecstatic elven lord. He gave a small cough and then suddenly, he pulled out a letter and put it in front of Captain Beluriel. "Tell me...what do you see, Captain?"
Beluriel looked in amazement at the envelope. The paper was bright crisp and yellow but she could see the light green-blue wax that had been used to seal the letter along with a certain symbol and the stamp outside of it...
"The symbol of Lórien!" she exclaimed excitedly and looked at Lord Elrond so that he could give her permission to open it. He nodded with an amused smile. "With the royal stamp! And a letter from the Marchwarden, no less!"
"The Marchwarden?" frowned Gilraen, feeling pretty left out.
"It is the highest ranking military post after a general," explained Lord Elrond patiently. "The bird from him just came to us a few hours ago."
Beluriel read through the letter and as she read, her face was first happy but then it fell down a bit. Gilraen peaked over shyly and for the hundredth time in her life, felt terribly sorry in not accepting those elvish lessons she had been offered. The letter was only full of foreign, elegant squiggles, nothing more. Suddenly, Beluriel closed the letter and looked straight at Lord Elrond,
"My lord...this is great news, but-"
"Grave at the same time. Much is at stake now but at least we have a direction to look at," said Lord Elrond.
Gilraen was a bit impatient about this 'riddle talk.' She frowned and looked at them, slightly expectantly, "So...what does it say?"
"Oh, yes. Sorry, well, this is how you'd translate it, although I'm not that good, I admit," said Beluriel to the woman. She coughed, opening the letter once again and then she read:
"Lord Elrond,
I write to you in gladness...yet not quite so. First of all, I am most sorry to say that we did not receive your letter concerning on young Estel until a week ago. We believe for it to be a cause of weather, for there have been terrible rainstorms down in our western borders and perhaps it may have delayed your bird. We immediately started looking though and we found nothing, sadly...
Until now.
As you may know, Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm is lost as well. I did not take this coincidence lightly- [inserted here was a large ink blot, perhaps because of a struggle between two people for a certain quill] fine, the Princess of Mirkwood, who aided me greatly in the search, did not take this lightly as well and convinced us to make even more searchs, even though we had scanned almost every area possible.
We were led to this stream and soon, we found dried footprints, although faint ones at that. The heavy current of the river and the rains perhaps affected them. Nevertheless, we found evidence, all right. However, we also found another piece of information...attached to this very letter.
Yes, it is quite confirmed. Your lost foster son, Estel, is traveling with Prince Legolas.
For what reason I do not know. If I may be allowed to speak frankly, they are possibly one of the most dysfunctional companionship I have ever seen. The youngest prince of Mirkwood is reckless and wild. And although I have full faith in his warrior abilities, there is no limit to what he may do to himself...and to Estel.
Our trackers and scouts predict that by now they have gone far south, perhaps near Fangorn Forest, our sister wood. Do not worry, the situation is under control. My wardens and I will retrieve your son safetly, as well as the prince.
I only want for you to be prepared, my lord.
Haldir, Marchwarden of the Golden Wood."
Beluriel paused, getting some saliva through her dry throat and then carefully, she took out a slim hair out of the letter. Dark brown and long, Gilraen seemed almost entranced with it. With just as much gentleness as Beluriel had, she put it on her palm and for a while, said nothing. Then, she looked up. "What did the elf mean...be prepared?"
"Um..." Lord Elrond trailed off and for the first time in her entire visit, did the elf-lord look the slightest uncomfortable. "Nothing you should be worried about Gilraen. Now, would you mind if Captain Beluriel and I spoke alone for-?"
"Yes, I do mind actually!" exclaimed Gilraen suddenly, standing up.
"What-?" Elrond frowned but was interrupted, once again. Beluriel watched dumbfoundedly, feeling like a stranger.
"I know this is about Estel...and sure, it's about the elven prince too but I have every single right to know how this search is going!" she argued.
"Of course. I understand. We will tell you everything after the-"
"No, I know you're hiding something from me. That's why you're excluding me...and no, I don't want any more lies. I'm tired of lies, I'm tired of all this...hiding!" exclaimed Gilraen and continued her rant. "Of course I'm thankful for your kindness and that of your family's, Lord Elrond. Of course I want Estel to be happy. But this is my son and there is no way I'm going to just sit here uselessly like all the other elves in your kingdom think I am. And trust me, I may not know your language but I very much know what they say!"
"No, of course not Gilraen. I know how much Estel means to you, to me, to the twins," said Elrond soothingly, standing up in a straight, Noldo posture. He was comforting in a sort of healing way. "We're doing all we can to find him. Besides, we're not trying to exclude you from the world. We're not trying to trap you in lies. Everybody just needs to get a chance to truly meet you and-"
"Well, if they wanted to meet me, they had eight years to do so!" exclaimed Gilraen and then, she said, "May I be excused, Lord Elrond?"
Lord Elrond sighed. "Yes Gilraen, but-"
But the lady was gone, stomping out of the door with an expression hotter than the very fires of Mount Doom and no one, not even the usual elven maids who tormented her, dared go in her way.
Elrond slumped in his seat and Beluriel frowned. "My lord...would you like some tea?"
"Yes, please," sighed Elrond. "Juniper leaves, top rack, fifth shelf, bottom row."
As Lord Elrond massaged his temples in stress, Beluriel quickly got up and hustled to do it. Scrambling and falling out of the ladder a few times, she finally grabbed a punchful of juniper leaves and swung herself down, nearly destroying one of Lord Elrond's tea pots. Sighing in relief, she grabbed the tea set along with the leaves, heading towards Lord Elrond's desk nervously, her hands slightly shaking. And of course...what happened?
She tripped over his rug.
She couldn't believe it! She was a full-fledged warrior and a talented knife-thrower, killer of thousands of orcs...and here she was, her face crushed against the floor. Beaten by a simple Noldo rug. Her honor was officially stained.
Grumbling, she quickly got up and went to see if the tray had been harmed. And she didn't want to sound snobby or selfish but she just hoped that the tea set had magically been made of rubber, because she knew that tea set was bloody expensive. And all of her current gold was saved on a new knife that was set to cut through even rock...
However, she was surprised to see the tea tray, balanced over a long Noldo leg.
Lord Elrond calmly balanced the tea tray on his left leg, standing up and then pushed it forward, catching it in his arms. Beluriel wondered if King Thranduil also had a secret tea tray balancing skill but...well, older elves were always more mysterious anyways. Lord Elrond sat down, put the tea tray in the table and urged Beluriel to sit down as well, even amidst her apologies.
"Cease your apologies. Accidents happen and it is no one but faith's fault. Anyways Beluriel, you might be wondering why you have been staying here and not along with the other warriors to look for Legolas," said Lord Elrond, boiling some water.
Yes! Finally some answers. "I...I must admit I'm quite curious, my lord."
"The reason is simple, Captain," explained Elrond continuing with his tea-making. "I want you to keep an eye on Gilraen."
"Keep an eye on her? I think she's quite capable of doing so. Isn't she an adult in mortal years?" frowned Beluriel.
"Yes...but not in that way. From the moment you came with her into my office, I knew that you had made an impact on her. Something nobody, not even the twins or I, could have given her," he coughed, applying things into his tea. "You were a friend. And as much as I have wanted to make her welcome, she has isolated herself from most of the other elves."
"She has a good reason."
"Indeed...prejudice is no pretty thing. Mortals are the reason why the darkness remains. Their mistake, Isildur's foolishness and their often hateful nature makes it hard to trust them," he said, although there was a bit of bitterness in his tongue. "And yet...we must learn to forgive. What do you think would have happened if you had broken my wife's old tea set?"
My wife's? Beluriel was ready to faint right there. Lady Celebrían had sailed a long time ago but her memory was still remembered, both bitterly and lovingly. She had been raped by orcs to an incredibly harsh point, until the twins had found her and rescued her. The lord of the Homely House had treated her physical injuries...but the ones inside her heart would ache forever. Unbearably in pain, she had sailed and her passing from Middle-Earth was grieved. If Beluriel had broken the tea set of one of Imladris' most beloved figures, she had no idea what kind of punishment she'd be getting.
"Um...you would have put me in a dungeon?"
Lord Elrond burst out laughing, a great sad smile in his face. "I would be sad, yes. But I am not as keen as putting people into dungeons as Thranduil always was. I would have forgiven you in the end though, Captain Beluriel and that is what you need to understand. You and Gilraen formed a friendship in just a number of days...and that's just incredible. You were able to forgive a human, when my people couldn't do it in eight years."
"Well, it wasn't that hard. She's a very kind person," pointed out Beluriel.
"You are right. She is. My people have yet to discover that," he sighed. "But now...let's get into the point. Gilraen's currently packing to go find Estel."
"How do you know, my lord?" Beluriel was freaked. Not only one but two elves that could read minds?
"Gilraen's a gentle soul. But when she's truly determined, especially with her son, they are no barriers. If you are truly as good of a captain of the cavalry as Legolas has said, then you should intercept her quite quickly."
"What then? Do I bring her back?"
"No, not at all! Go with her. Support her. Help her. Get Estel back for her. Build that level of trust with her."
"Y-You want me to bring her back?" asked Beluriel incredulously. "Why?"
"Because there will be a time when Gilraen won't be able to save her son anymore...her son will be free and yes, I know that she told you of his and her real identity," said Elrond, almost confirming her mind-reading theory. "They both need to learn that together, they can overcome the deepest of shadows. That hiding is often good...but taking risks is sometimes necessary in life. Estel will have to rise one day...whether he like it or not. He is the hope for his people but for now, he needs to be hope for himself.
Beluriel nodded, although she never really liked riddle talk. She quickly got up, putting the chair into its place and watched as Lord Elrond finished making his tea. "Of course. Shall I go down now to her, my lord?"
"Yes Beluriel, but remember..."
"Yes?"
"You are not doing this just because I ordered you too. Try to be her friend. Try to really know her and understand her pain. Speak to her. I want you to genuinely help her, just because you really want to, not because of me."
"Don't worry, my lord...I already do."
O-O-O
AN: I'm sorry for the half-mediocre chapter. And yes, it could've gone worse for Estel. But...yeah, a duel with Bulgan's son? Not something you would want.
Oh and remember when Gilraen mentioned a guy named 'Dirhaborn?' Well, it's the guy from this AMAZING fan-made movie called Born of Hope! So credits to them, the awesome director Kate Madison and all of the actors! Go see it! I don't really like how they portray Gilraen and a few other things but they are an awesome group! The movie is about Arathorn meeting Gilraen and all of which led to them having Aragorn and whatnot.
Besides, ELLADAN AND ELROHIR (the same guy I guess, just duplicated) ARE SO ADORABLE!
Anyways, I'm sorry for updating so late. It seems our teachers are not so considerate about our well-being. ESPECIALLY my History and Geography teacher.
History & Geography Teacher: Oh hey! You finished one project, huh? Let's start another one, yay! Do you know you have two projects per quarter? Oh and by the way, you have your first major test coming. You have to name all fifteen departments, two autonomous regions, two lagoons, two lakes, at least two volcanoes and other stuff. AND some of the twenty or so topics we've been talking about.
So! I hope you're doing better in school! My grades are all A+ (which is kind of enough to please my mother) except P.E...although it's still an A. Besides, I also passed French! :D Yay! Three more levels and I'll end all of my courses! I have a very extensive history in my french classes. Except now my new teacher is this PURE french lady, so I can't even speak English or Spanish with her. Damn...she's probably going to think really lowly of me.
Now, the great reviews from awesome people!
Masked Man 2: Thank you! And although I'm not very interested in Gilraen, I think she's a very underrated and forgotten character. Her interaction with Beluriel will also be important throughout the upcoming chapters. Oh and about the search groups...I am SO excited! I don't really have plans on how they will intercept each other, but I do have a vague idea, which you'll hopefully like!
Schattenjagd: Hey! That's great! You really should have your account. Besides, I really like your stories! The tone of voice you have and I like your plots. I do think Legolas' family is a bit confusing but well, we'll see how it ends up! Aww and thanks for the reviews! You're awesome and so are all of your jokes. Very ingenious! Hahaha...especially Thranduil confronting Haldir. I actually plan to make a Haldir x Aurell fanfic later on, so beware. And LOL! I love your idea on how Thranduil whoops Legolas' ass. It's actually not going to be exactly that, but I have a different idea...
Emi the Ninja: LOL! XD They actually didn't take it that bad, but Gilraen...
Snoozinghamster: Hm...having a bit of trouble knowing if you're being sarcastic or genuine but either way...thanks I guess! I appreciate it! :)
Guest: Thanks! And I'll try to (LOL, this one had a one month delay) but school's been really hard on me. Although I still manage to get my usual rows of straight A's. I will try my best though!
Saphira: Yes, that's true. School is being a PAIN. Luckily, quarter 1 is over for me, my projects and tests are all finished and maybe I can lay back and enjoy my temporary rest. I'd totally be willing to fight orcs than my mom's angry face. Haha. Anyways, if you liked the plan, then you will like how I will make the search groups intercept. Thanks for all the kind words and yes, I will definitely write more! Namarie!
Luin: Awww! Thank you! I'm glad you look so forward to my stuff! I also promise to update The Spring Festival just a while after this one is on . And yes, Aurell's a ranger. I'm going to make a story of her and Haldir in the future. So beware for that. And no, he's not evil. He's actually really cool! And I'm SO SORRY I didn't update sooner! It's just that school is being terrible to me. But I will try to update sooner and thanks so much for your support!