Before I start this new story I want to make something clear so I will capitalize and underscore for emphasis. THIS IS NOT A PLAGIARIZED VERSION OF SkyleafAlchemist19'S All That Remains! I have already spoken to her prior to posting this, and she has given me permission to use the assassin aspect of her story for mine! DO NOT I repeat DO NOT review this only to flame and accuse me of plagiarizing her story! She is ready to speak out on this issue if it does happen, and I thank her so much for doing so! The ONLY aspects of this story that will be the same is the assassin theme, and the use of the name Esgal as Legolas' alias, which she has also given me permission to use! So please dear readers, DO NOT POST REVIEWS ACCUSING ME OF PLAGIARIZING WHEN I HAVE CLEARLY EXPLAINED MYSELF IN THIS LITTLE SECTION!
Inspired by: SkyleafAlchemist19's All That Remains and Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas.
Summary: Legolas does not know how he came to be at Dol Guldur. He has no recollections of his past. Trained by the Witch-King of Angmar, the Elf becomes the Nazgûl Lord's personal champion. The assassin known as Esgal...
Esgal: Sindarin Elvish for Hidden.
This story is dedicated to SkyleafAlchemist19. Thanks for writing such an awesome story of All That Remains! And for allowing me to use the assassin theme and Esgal alias! This is for you!
Reviews are welcome.
I also appreciate constructive criticism as well.
This story will be post WotR but I will try to keep it as canon as possible.
OCs will also appear in this story as well!
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or anything associated with it, aside from my own plot and OCs.
Okay all my edits and stuff are done (I may still have missed a few things here and there)
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For Whose Sake
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Of Consequences & Dreams II
Fuming in his chambers over the fact that the scouts could not locate Thorin and his company, Thranduil went into a rage, knocking over cups and plates, sending them crashing onto the floor. Porcelain pieces flew everywhere, with one scratching him on the cheek, but the Elvenking disregarded the small cut. His fury was beyond anything anyone within the castle had ever seen before. Even his wife Edlothiad was smart in avoiding him while he remained consumed by anger. With another vengeful snarl, Thranduil sent a vase flying towards the wall.
"Anger does not suit you, my beloved Thranduil."
The Elvenking stiffened at the sound of the voice.
"C-Can it be...you?..." he dared whisper.
"Surely you cannot have forgotten about me?" the same voice teased.
Slowly he turned on his heels, as if in a trance-like state, until he faced the source of the voice.
His beloved first wife.
"Rívis?"
Indeed it was his beloved who stood before him in an ethereal form, clad in the very same garments during the sending ritual which he partook in. Despite that, she looked the same as she did two thousand years ago. The same, loving smile on her lips as always, and the way her eyes could melt his anger with the slightest of gazes.
"You still look as handsome as always," Rívis said with a small laugh.
"Why are you here? I...I have missed you so very much. These past two thousand years without you by my side...I...I do not know how I survived it. When our little Legolas was taken from us...a part of my heart died that day. Then you went on to join the Valar not long after...I...I could not take it."
The ethereal spirit of Rívis slowly made her way towards her weeping husband, gently wrapping her transparent arms around his shoulders.
"You have suffered much during the past two thousand years. I wish I did not have to leave your side so soon, my beloved husband."
Thranduil couldn't bring himself to look his wife in the eyes.
"I came to inform you that our son is still alive."
The Elvenking whipped his head around sharply at those words.
"Legolas is alive?" he breathed in disbelief.
Rívis inclined her head. "Yes. The Darkness may have taken him, but his heart remains in the Light. Do not despair over this my beloved. He is alive and well. You both shall be reunited soon, and the proof that he is our son lies around his neck."
"His neck?"
"I cannot reveal anymore than this. I must return to the Valar now that my time is up. Know that I am always by your side, my dear Thranduil. I will forever protect you and our son," Rívis began to flicker and fade from sight.
"Wait!" The Elvenking extended a hand out in a futile attempt to grab her form.
True to his words Glorfindel had indeed prepared a small sack of provisions for Legolas to take on the road the very next day. The Vanyar told the assassin there was enough food worth of three days traveling, and two water-skins that he could refill should his supply run out. The Elf thanked his friend profusely before making his way to the stables in the very early hours, not wanting to be caught by a guard or another noble from Imladris.
Hagalith neighed in delight upon spotting his master coming towards him.
"I missed you too my friend," Legolas chuckled as his stallion nudged his arm, trying to reach into his pouch for a sweet treat.
The assassin extracted a small square of sugar, holding it out to the horse, watching in delight as the large animal crunched the sugary delight. Legolas ran a hand through Hagalith's mane, feeling the fur run under his palm.
"I know you do not like it, but we must return to Dol Guldur."
His stallion neighed in response.
"My curse acted up when I was in Glorfindel's room. The Witch-King must be aware since he was the one who cast it upon me. I must return or else he will send Azog after my head," the assassin explained.
Comprehending what his master was saying, Hagalith snorted lightly, nipped Legolas on the arm, then pawed at the ground with a hoof.
Deftly swinging himself up onto the saddle effortlessly, the silver-haired assassin guided his loyal steed out of the stables.
Bilbo couldn't believe it.
He actually managed to rescue the Dwarves from that horrible dungeon and succeeded in getting away. Well..almost got away since a band of Orcs appeared from nowhere and began attacking them. The Hobbit was glad that the Elves were distracted by this new enemy, though did not appreciate the fact that they were fighting right over their heads, literally.
The Halfling had put all of them into empty wine barrels, then rolled them all out into the river, which was currently where the Elves from Mirkwood and Orcs were fighting.
"Mind your head!" he shouted to Balin.
The Dwarf grunted in response, ducking as a Orc sailed over his head, landing with a splash in the raging currents that were sweeping them downriver.
Clinging on for his life, Bilbo watched as Elves and Orcs pranced about their heads, and along the bank of the river. Lifting his head just in time, the Hobbit caught sight of a white-colored Orc standing atop the hill, looking down on them menacingly.
"Is that who I think it is?" he cried to no one in particular.
Again it was Balin who answered him.
"It is Azog!"
"He's after Thorin!" the Hobbit realized, ducking as a arrow whizzed past his hair.
"We're almost at the end!" Dwalin roared.
"Not if we tumble over the waterfall!"
Bilbo widened his eyes in shock as the barrels plummeted over the surging torrent.
Elrond discovered it was much harder to conceal an infant human within his own realm than anticipated. Twice the Peredhel was nearly caught by his own sons, and Erestor almost walked in on him changing Aragorn. Luckily he was agile despite his appearance, and managed to conceal the truth from those he trusted.
He was in the middle of feeding Aragorn when a knock upon his door interrupted the ancient healer.
"Yes?" he called out, making his way towards the bedroom.
"It is I," came Glorfindel's voice from the other side.
Relieved that he did not have to hide Aragorn from the Elf-Lord, Elrond settled back in the chair and resumed his feeding of the baby.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened as Glorfindel walked in, an eyebrow arching skyward when he spotted the Peredhel feeding—or trying to feed—a fussy Aragorn. The infant had smeared the food onto himself and on Elrond as well, the front of his robes covered with apple paste. It took all of Glorfindel's self control not to burst into laughter.
"Is he not eating?"
"Just being a bit fussy," Elrond managed to shove another spoonful of apple paste when Aragorn became distracted by Glorfindel's presence.
The Vanyar chuckled at the sight.
"I never would have dreamed of seeing you in this position," he said with a small bow to Elrond.
"Aragorn already lost his parents. I do not wish for him to grow up without a father or mother in his life. Though we are not related by blood, I still feel a certain pull as he is kin, no matter how much Elven blood flows through his veins."
"My lord, I came to inquire you of something."
Elrond finished feeding the last of the paste, now producing a small cloth to wipe Aragorn clean with.
"I am listening."
"Do you know of any...spell or curse that creates a black line on one's body, with multiple lines coming forth from the original? It seems to cause great agony to whoever is afflicted with this," the Vanyar asked quietly, praying silently for Esgal's forgiveness.
The Peredhel's hand stilled halfway.
"Where did you hear of this curse?" Elrond inquired gravely.
"I read it in a book and was just curious," the Elf-Lord lied swiftly.
"It is the blackest of dark magic, the originator being either Sauron or Morgoth, who was Sauron's master. It was used as a form of discipline, to ensure his followers did as he asked and would not openly betray him. The curse only activates when the one afflicted strays too far from his task. It would cause the bearer great agony, rendering them unable to move until they made their way back towards Sauron somehow. It is evil. A curse that I hope will never exist on Middle-Earth again," Elrond explained, suppressing the urge to shudder after he was finished.
"Is there some kind of medicine to take for it?" Glorfindel recalled the small vial of pills he had handed over to his friend.
"No. As far as I know, there is no medicine that can counteract the curse."
At this the Vanyar furrowed his brows together in confusion.
Then where did Esgal get those pills from?
Reaching into the pouch behind his back as he rode through the forest, Legolas extracted the vial from earlier, holding it up to see that he only had one little pill left at the bottom of the container. It was time for him to pay a visit to his friend Ennorwen to have her make more. He could not put if off, for if the curse decides to act up again, then he would only be able to suppress it one more time.
"Hagalith, let us go pay a visit to Ennorwen."
His horse neighed softly in agreement, automatically changing directions to head towards the southern part of Dol Guldur.
Bringing the pack from Glorfindel down where he could access it, the assassin reached in to pull out an apple. He bit into the fruit, tasting the sweet juices flowing down his parched throat. He only had two water pouches, therefore he did not wish to drink all of it until he had a chance to replenish his supply.
"Nana..."
Legolas found himself thinking about the dream as Hagalith continued trekking down the path.
To be continued...
Review?
Happy Mid-Autumn Festival to my readers who celebrate it!
I am off to China to celebrate for 2 days!
Next time: Legolas meets up with an old friend
Thranduil discovers one of his sons is starting to become Shadowed
The Witch-King decides to attack Mirkwood
See you all next time!
Celsius Fate~