Warning: there is a scene in the first part of this chapter that may be disturbing to some people. It is part of a dream and basically the subject is drowning in blood. If you do not feel comfortable with reading that, skip down to the 'oOo' marker, and let me know via PM or review and I will give you the basics of that scene.

Chapter 26

Trees surrounded him. Grand trees with their limbs outstretched as if embracing the sunlight and leaves dancing like a million emeralds. Their rumbling song hummed through his fea, consoling it, cherishing its Light with year-laden wisdom and celebrating it with the vehemence of a child. The murmured greetings tickled his ears and a smile graced his face as he absorbed the pure, unbridled joy that filled him.

He loved this. This was familiar; a safe haven: home. This was his home. Grand and beautiful, it's beauty would never fail to bring him the light exhilaration of simply living.

Laughter seeped through the leafy canopy above. The melodic voices seemed to brighten the atmosphere and sharpen the light greens and soft yellows and pinks and oranges of the flora dotting the wispy brush. Small critters scurried fearlessly at his feet. Elves danced out of the protective canopy of the foliage, their eyes bright, cheeks rosy, and light feet nimble as a cat's. Elflings dropped out of the branches with delighted squeals as they ran after one another; their faces flushed, and brown locks like flickering wisps of fire as they disappeared behind the trunks of trees and ran through the grass. Wonder and laughter sparkled in the eyes of all elves as they acknowledged him with a bright smile and polite inclination of their head. The youngsters pulled at his sleeves and begged him to join them in their prancing. His musical laughter joined theirs and he complied, letting them pull him away.

They increased their pace until it became urgent. The laughter faded as they led him away. The deeper they went, the sky peeking through the leaves seemed a little bit more grey than blue. The cheerful twittering of the birds drained into mournful clicks and seemed a little bit quieter. Somehow the grass seemed a little bit flatter, the elflings a little bit more somber. The skittering footsteps of the wildlife seemed a little bit more fearful, and the warm sunlight hid away behind the clouds and enveloped them in a chilly grey-blue instead of the pleasant gold. The appearances of clumps of flowers lessened and eventually turned to a dark, scrubby ivy riddled with thorns. The tree's song shifted dramatically. Instead of welcoming him, making him feel alive, the mournful whispers seems to weigh him down and pile on his shoulders. His feet began to drag. The weight of the Ring on his finger seemed to increase.

A small hand pulled on his robe and he looked down into the somber yet strikingly green eyes of the elfling. The children crowded around him and clung to his clothing and groped to grasp his hand. They hid their faces and looked at him with despairing eyes. The flowers in their hair had wilted and dusted their lashes and shoulders with tiny petals. The elfling that had pulled on him pointed fearfully ahead of them into the trees.

He looked up and gasped. Beyond the trees had darkened. Their bark had become a black, oozing gnarl. Their once-graceful limbs had twisted and the twigs were bare of leaves and resembled claws. Motionless yet reaching for him. Tendrils of black ivy wrapped around the trees, forbidding and unwelcoming; promising violence. Everything became was still and eerily silent. The previous joy he had felt course through him was now drowned out by the snarls and clicks of the looming trees; they hated his Light.

Mournful wails broke the stillness. The elflings at his hips whimpered and clung tighter to him. Elves emerged from the trees. Unlike the ones he had previously seen, these elves gave off an aura promising danger. Instead of the flowing yellow and blue tunics of the other elves, these wore armor of a dark grey and brown and weapons of shining steel or polished wood. Their faces were hard and grim and the glimmer of happiness seen in the others smiling lips had been replaced by one of determination with set jaws. Their calloused hands hovered over their weapons and their shifting eyes were the only betrayal to their alertness. Their movements were just as graceful and smooth as they moved. Instead of contributing to the beauty of these creatures, their movements spoke of deadly precision and lithe frames held a leashed whirlwind of death. So heavy... the Ring was so heavy now.

The elflings clinging to him let out sobs of despair as the armor-clad elves gently pulled them away from him and brushed the petals off their shoulders and began dressing them in hardened leather. They took the pens and flowers from their hands and instead pressed shining blades of steel into them. The elflings twirled the weapons experimentally. The innocence radiating from them was replaced by the hardened determination that was around the elder elves also.

The children were gone.

His heart wept as they disappeared into the ominous trees with a flash of brown and glimmer of steel. The trees erupted into vicious snarls and violent protests as they lashed out with their branches and shrank away from the burning light of the elves. Blood flooded out of the darkness, running like a river. His eyes widened and heart skipped a beat. The snarls of the trees died out; nothing but silence was heard now.

The children were gone.

The blood continued to trickle through the blackened soil. The crimson tendrils approached his feet and he backpedaled furiously to avoid it from touching him.

The children were gone...

Suddenly the trees were thrust violently to one side with an ear-splitting crack. They had parted a wide pathway down the middle. The weight on his finger disappeared and he looked down frantically to find the Ring gone.

Ausocitin stood near the pathway of unnaturally bent trees, his eyes trained on a brightly shining green light on his finger and glimmering with a mad, almost sadistic glee. Large draft horses lumbered down the pathway, toiling under the weight of laden, uncovered carts. The carts held wooden crates. The crates were stacked high to the tall barriers encasing the wagons.

He blanched and cold dread seeped into his veins. He knew those crates. They held the Dragon Dust. He could barely bare to look as the poor beasts came closer and closer. They stumbled. There was hardly a split-second before the entire area burst into a flurry of flame so bright it would put any fire-drake to shame. The sound roared in his ears and pierced his head with blinding pain.

He gasped. The flame was wild and chaotic; a twirling mass of white-hot reds and oranges, blues and yellows, but not without shape. A black slit pulsed in the center of the flames, taking the shape of... an Eye. The pupil bored into him and probed his defenses. It was so large, so full of malice. It wanted to engulf him. To eat up his light and devour it. To smash it into nothingness and grind its remains to be cast into the miserable Void. Here it was. This churning blackness. His heart trembled despite his vehement attempt to ward the tendrils of black that fought against his Light. He knew this Eye.

The flames dissipated enough for him to catch a glimpse of his surroundings. The towering peaks of the Black Gate loomed before him. The heat burned his face and the gushing flames took over his hearing. He was assaulted with the harsh scent of sulfur; burning bodies; metallic blood. Horrified, his eyes widened further. A silhouette of the black trees that had once been his home shined in the churning black depths of the Eye's pupil. Silvery blood poured forth and soaked the earth.

The children were gone...

It trickled on his hands until he was drowning in it. The Eye let out a terrible roar. The crimson flood pulled him down. It lapped at his hair, his face and pulled him under. He fought to resurface. His heart was pounding erratically in his ears and for a while all he could hear was his own strangled whimpers and the blood rushing around him. He kicked furiously and his head broke the surface. The dark tendrils assaulted him with new-found fury and he let his Light burst forth to ward them away. The last thing he saw before being pulled under once again was his father's bleeding body adding to the river he now drowned in. Despair engulfed him and he sank.

oOo

Thranduil's eyes snapped open but a thick fog obscured his vision. A great weight crushed his chest and something was shaking his shoulder. He felt angry. So very, very angry. The taste of blood hung in his mouth. His whole body began to tremble as he sat up with a snarl. His flailing fist connected with something solid. An alarmed yelp sounded from the recipient of his hit and his finger burned. It was so heavy he could barely lift it. He grasped the Ring with his other hand and tried to yank it off. The Eye flashed across his vision with a frustrated roar and the Ring finally slid off his finger. He thrust it away from him with a triumphant grunt.

The weight on his chest disappeared and the fog cleared from his vision and mind. Thranduil sat up. The four elflings peered up at him fearfully. He stared at them uncomprehendingly for a few seconds, but it was Minaitir's hurt, betrayed gaze and small arm wrapped around his middle snapped him back into his full senses.

"Oh," Thranduil breathed, "goheno-nin, penneth!" He leaned forwards to the stricken elfling, but Minaitir recoiled from him. The other elflings shifted uncomfortably. The Sinda drew back. "I am sorry, I was dreaming. I was not aware it was you I struck, penneth."

Some of the wariness in the elfling's eyes dissipated. His hand brushed the hilt of his knife and he nodded slowly.

"Are you alright, Hir-nin—uhh Thranduil?" Helgilion asked worriedly.

Thranduil smiled thinly to try and ease the tense awkwardness of the situation. "Yes. It was merely a bad dream." His eyes darkened and he cast a venomous glance at the Ring that was now resting peacefully in the withered grass. Estella looked at it in wonder and reached for it, but quickly drew back her hand from a snapped warning from the Elvenking. He pulled on one of his leather gloves and picked up the Ring. He stowed it safely at the bottom of his pack. "I do not want any of you to touch that Ring, am I clear?" The elflings nodded stiffly. Lower, he added, "That Ring is evil." Fearful eyes flicked up to him and he looked around.

"What happened?" Thranduil did not remember stopping here, and it was still afternoon; they should have kept walking until dusk.

"Well, we were walking and suddenly out of nowhere you collapsed," Estella said.

Thranduil knitted his brow together and began to rummage in his pack. The children were probably hungry. The elflings had fallen back into silence. It was rather strange, considering how they had all been fighting over one another for a breath to talk. Now they kept their distance as if he were about to bite.

His hands stilled. "Is something wrong?" Silence. "Well? Have you all lost your tongues?" Realization suddenly dawned on him. "Did I do something while I was dreaming?"

"Well," Fararth started. The other elfling's somber gazes snapped to him warningly. "You kept saying 'the children are gone'."

Thranduil nodded and pretended to accept that as an answer. The little ones visibly relaxed. A wry smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. Children were so simple. He appreciated that.

He knew this was not the real problem though. The possibility of this happening had not entered his mind as the elflings joined him, but now he had to take the liberties in explaining this to them. He did not want them to fear him.

He felt a twinge in his heart. Why is it so easy for me to provide comfort to these strangers, yet I struggle so with my own blood? He harshly tore his thoughts away from Legolas. Worrying about him would only distract him and he could afford none. Not when these young lives relied on his attentiveness.

Catching the elflings off guard, Thranduil said, "It was my face wasn't it?"

Helgilion and Minaitir exchanged was he supposed they thought were deft horrified glances. Estella looked alarmed but quickly schooled her features and turned a rather vicious glare on her younger brother when he began to giggle nervously.

"We thought you were turning into an orc!" Fararth declared.

Thranduil's eyes darkened. He knew Filendis and he knew Haldaner and was absolutely sure they would not reveal such dark things to ones so young. He was beginning it to feel more disgusted with Gindorelle as he witnessed what the ex-General's parenting had done first-hand.

"Now who put a silly idea like that in your head?" Thranduil asked playfully while turning his weighted glare on Minaitir. The elfling shifted uncomfortably and looked away. Thranduil shook his head and smiled admonishingly. "Never mind that. It was a wound I acquired a very long time ago and it never really healed."

The Filendisinnath seemed satisfied with the explanation and settled down with the food the Sinda offered them.

"Does it hurt?" Helgilion asked timidly.

"What happened?" Minaitir said.

Thranduil pulled them onto his lap and looked at them thoughtfully. "Sometimes it hurts. And let's just say that dragons aren't very agreeable companions." He smiled sadly. "But that's enough for your probing little minds for now. I suppose we are all tired. Come, eat this and then off to bed. There will be no fire tonight."

The early stars had begun to wink in the sky as the little—in more ways than one—company settled down for the night. They had wandered far enough north so that they were no longer in the dark part of the forest, so no watch needed to be set, for the trees would warn them of any danger and Thranduil would only sleep light, and therefore wake should anything change.

Helgilion, Estella, and Fararth were all cuddled together, sharing their cloaks. Minaitir lay bundled up in a spare cloak Thranduil had stuffed in his pack, but refused to sleep near anyone. Minaitir would be cold, but he had tersely declined any invitations to move closer to the others. He had been quiet and brooding while they ate and something was obviously troubling him. Thranduil decided to wait before confronting him, for nothing would be wrest from the young Silvan that night.

Supplies were another thing to be worried about. When Thranduil had been stuffing items into his pack, he had only taken enough food and water for himself for about a week. Now there were five of them. They were still too close to the dark trees for any game to be wandering about, and nothing would be growing as the days became colder. Hopefully they would make it to the elven village soon.

His thoughts drifted to the artifact sitting at the bottom of his pack. Things began to make sense. The moment he had put the ring on he had felt burdened. Like there was some subconscious internal battle he had been fighting. He felt in harmony with the trees; the black trees. It was not natural, he thought. Their eerie whispers had played at the back of his mind and he felt... powerful. Yet it was a sickening sort of power. Vicious and unrelenting. Like the blackened trees and the violence they promised. And then the dream where he had seen Ausocitin using the Ring to bend the trees to let the enormous wagons through the the thick trunks— and then Thranduil had become violent. He had struck Minaitir! And the Eye. He had seen the Eye. But that was it, wasn't it? The Ring was evil. Tainted. Ausocitin had used the Ring; become addicted to it's power. He was tainted.

A shiver went down his spine. There was no other explanation for the ellon's unrelenting greed and violence. Even madness seemed rather far-fetched to what had become of this being. Oropher trusted him at some point, which meant Ausocitin had recently become like this. Facts pointed to the Ring once again.

And then there were the vials with the Dragon Dust, as Thranduil had dubbed the repulsive explosives. He did not know where Ausocitin had gotten it from, but its purpose alone bothered the Elvenking. He was positive it was the throne Ausocitin was fighting for. The ex-Advisor's plan had worked well so far. Besiege the stronghold and demand surrender unless the King wanted to see his people starve to death. Thranduil keeping the throne in itself could have caused a revolt among his dying people should that situation have occurred, for the people were still uneasy after the incident in the North where the Serpent had slaughtered an unnumbered list of elves.

But Ausocitin only needed an army to besiege the stronghold, and he had just that. There was no need for such weapons such as he now held in his possession. Explosives could only do one thing, and that was destroy.

It all clicked together. Ausocitin's goal was to take the throne for himself and get revenge on Thranduil for being named heir instead of him (this puzzled Thranduil; he was the King's son, after all!) Ausocitin knew Thranduil would storm out of the stronghold, for he most certainly was prepared. He had surrounded the castle, with his mercenaries, probably hired with promise of payment in wealth from the treasury... Only the treasury was empty— Ausocitin, being Advisor, most definitely knew that. He also knew about Mirkwood's scattered wealth, and had taken the documents and given them to him, saying his people would starve if he did not return with the money. Thranduil would, of course, comply with the terms and collect the money, while Ausocitin demolished what was left of his people. Thranduil would return to the smoking remains of his home and beloved people and Ausocitin would pay his mercenaries... That definitely sounded like revenge to Thranduil.

Thranduil turned over in his bed roll and absently watched his breath cloud in the chilly evening air. He needed a plan. And he needed it quickly.

His musings were interrupted with muffled whimpers coming from Minaitir's bundle. Thranduil smiled in exasperation. It wouldn't be long until the little one would become too cold to bear and come crawling to the rest of the elflings. The bundle twitched and spasmed. Thranduil frowned. Minaitir was not simply shivering. Another convulsion let a muffled sob escape the rumpled bundle.

"Minaitir," Thranduil whispered. No answer. "Minaitir. Minaitir! Come here penneth!" Another sob erupted from the bundle.

Thranduil reluctantly crawled out of the bedroll and knelt next to Minaitir buried in the large cloak with a huff. He lifted the young Silvan by his shoulders into a sitting position. Minaitir turned away from him and hid his tear-streaked face in his sleeve.

"Go away," Minaitir sobbed. Thranduil sighed and pulled the elfling into his arms, making sure to keep him snugly wrapped in the cloak.

"What's wrong penneth?" he asked gently, letting his brown head rest on his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on his back. Minaitir pulled away but a violent shudder ran through him as he was exposed to the harsh cold and he collapsed back against the older ellon. The sobbing intensified. "Penneth?"

"Don't call me that!" Minaitir yelled hoarsely into Thranduil's chest. His eyes shot automatically to where the other elflings were sleeping, but they were exhausted and did not even stir. "Don't call me that," he repeated despairingly, his voice a whisper before it melted into more sobs.

The Sinda rocked him gently as more violent shivers wracked the small frame. He carried Minaitir back to his bedroll and crawled inside of it, still holding the distressed child to him.

"I miss 'im," the elfling whispered.

"Who?"

"Gindor—my Ada." The youngling's voice was continuously interrupted by sobs. "I loved him. He was diff'rent after he had to leave Naneth. Sometimes he would get angry and hit me but I didn' mind. Maybe he wasn' a very good Ada but he was the only one I had, and I loved him!" Tears dripped out of Minaitir's eyes and shone like small diamonds in the moonlight. He rubbed the back of his hand across his freckled features, only to be replaced with another small flood of tears. "Why'd he have to die?" Minaitir's voice cracked and he buried his face desperately into Thranduil's chest. "Why...?" It took a few minutes but the sobs subsided and Minaitir took a few shuddering breaths to calm himself down. "I'm okay," he murmured to himself. "I'm fine; I'll be okay." He gripped the hilt of his dagger for reassurance; he hadn't taken it off since the hour it had been given to him. Eventually his murmuring broke off and his breaths evened out; he was asleep.

The Sinda's heart broke at the young elf's pleading despair. He hugged the shivering being tighter and stroked his hair. Salty tears had soaked through his tunic, but he didn't mind in the slightest. Tears stung the back of his eyes. Maybe he wasn't a very good Ada but he was the only one I had. Minaitir was a strong elfling. He hadn't faded after his mother's death and even suffered to see his father driven mad by grief. And now to confess that he loved— the thought broke off. It was so painful. And to see the ease he gripped a blade with—how comfortable he was with always being on alert and expecting danger; the fact he knew the truth about orcs and greeted the sting of death like an old friend—this elfling knew too much. He had seen too much.

'The elflings clinging to him let out sobs of despair as the armor-clad elves gently pulled them away from him and brushed the petals off their shoulders and began dressing them in hardened leather. They took the pens and flowers from their hands and instead pressed shining blades of steel into them. The elflings twirled the weapons experimentally. The innocence radiating from them was replaced by the hardened determination that was around the elder elves also. The children were gone.'

The children are gone...

oOoOoOo

Was I the only one who felt that?! Sorry; this chapter is disappointingly boring, but—but feels! And answers too, I suppose. Also I'm in love with that elfling if y'all haven't already noticed. Am I also the only one who wants Gindorelle to be reincarnated (after a few well placed threats, of course) just to see that little guy be happy?

I promise to fill in on other characters in the next chapters.

This chapter is also unbeta-ed (come back safely, Scribbles!) so once again apologies if it's rough.

Thank you all for the kind reviews!! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this installment :P