"You think my actions were wrong?" Legolas stated, though it held the hint of a question in it.
"What do you think?" Estel replied.
Legolas had exited his meeting with Lords Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor several hours ago. For a long while he sought comfort in the trees as he usually did, however for some reason the trees of Imladris seemed almost hostile towards him. It was an unsettling feeling that he was unused to and thus he sought solitude even from them. In truth, solitude was what he needed for some time. His father had always taught him the importance of masking his emotions. Legolas was a prince and one day would inherit the throne. As a king, it would be his duty to remain impassive in the most severe of circumstances... but listening to the anguish in Glorfindel's tone almost broke his resolve.
His hours of contemplation over his actions and whether or not they were justified eventually lead to a rather annoyingly silent Estel who walked beside him and did nothing more. Legolas knew that the Edain was pulling one of his usual tricks in allowing the elf to stew in silence until it became too much and he would bare forth his secrets. But, Legolas was determined to avoid such things.
That was of course, until he found that he actually couldn't bare the silence and thus broke it with the question.
"I think I did what I believed was necessary to protect the Woodland Realm." When Legolas spoke, Estel made a slight humming sound before piercing him with one of those steely gazes.
"You didn't ask me if I thought your intentions were wrong. You asked me if I though your actions were wrong."
"Where they?"
"That is the second time you've asked."
"The second time you haven't answered."
"Do you suppose that such is evidence enough?"
"Yes."
They lapsed into silence after that one.
The wind was picking up a slight hint of a chill and in the distance, the trees which now seemed angry at Legolas for some inexplicable reason were dancing in the breeze. Birdsongs filled with valley with a light music whilst minstrels could be heard rehearsing in the distance. The sun was already descending and soon, it would be time for both Legolas and Estel to go their separate ways. One to relay a message to his King and Father, the other to find a lost Halfling and a meddling wizard. Their lives had just become far more complicated than ever before. Legolas knew that much still hung unsaid between the pair, but it was Estel this time, who spoke first.
"Did I ever tell you of the time I lit Glorfindel's chambers on fire?"
"What?!" Legolas exclaimed. Of all the things that Legolas was expecting to hear, that was not one of them.
"I was very young, perhaps around five or six," Estel launched into his story, seemingly taking Legolas' shock as indication that this was somehow a new tale to the elf. "And I found the strangest cloth whilst playing by the Bruinin. I'm not sure why it amused me so much, though it was likely due to the fact that the coarsely tanned leather, which was so poorly tanned that it still held patches of fur, was a complete novelty to me. Well I decided that it would be my warrior cape and after rising it in the river I tied it around my throat, parading all the way back to the house. When I arrived, I was found by Glordfindel playing by the fire with my new cape and he took one look at it before yanking it from me and tossing it into the flames. I was so shocked that I didn't say a single thing when he marched off, but soon I found myself filled with rage."
"Why would he do such a thing?"
"Patience, mellon-nin," Estel scolded lightly. "As I said, I was young but I had been under the influence of Elladan and Elrohir for too long. They had taught me that when one is wronged, revenge and pranks are the best option. Thus, I decided to take a warrior's revenge and do the same to him that very night."
"You wanted to burn Lord Glorfindel's cape?"
"No," the deadpanned look on Estel's face would have been better suited for a discussion of war, not a tale of childhood. "I knew that I couldn't do something to Glorfindel directly, but I figured that I could still burn something of his. So that night before I could lose my courage, after being tucked into bed, I snuck out and went to Glorfindel's chambers for I overheard over dinner that he would be out. I brought a lamp with me and as I was in such a state of panic, I grabbed the first cloth I could find and I lit it on fire."
"And?"
"Well..." Estel finally seemed to have the nerve to look sheepish as his story continued. "It just so happened that the cloth that I selected to light... was an oil soaked rag that Glorfindel usually used for his swords. The fire grew far larger than I could handle and I found myself sprinting out of the room to get help. By the time the others got there however, the flames had spread too far and nearly all of Glorfindel's possessions were either charred or smoke damaged."
"I do not envy you." Legolas couldn't get the image of the fearsome Balrog Slayer returning from a hard night's training to find his room in flames.
"No," Estel's smile was wry as he replied. "Glorfindel was furious, but did well to hide it for I was already terrified. He did however chuckle quite a bit when I explained my line of reasoning. He then revealed to me why he had thrown away my cape so quickly... apparently it was because my "cape" was an orc's loincloth."
Legolas blinked once, twice, and then thrice.
"You were playing with an orc's loincloth?"
"Well at the time I didn't know what it was," Estel chuckled good naturedly. "Glorfindel was in such a state of shock when he had found me playing with it, that he did the first thing he could think of which was to burn it. Then, instead of explaining it to me he rushed out to hunt down whichever orcs were near enough to Imladris to drop such a thing."
"So you burned down Lord Glorfindel's chambers because he prevented you from playing with an orc's loincloth?" Legolas looked decently unimpressed.
"I never intended to burn down his chambers," Estel corrected lightly. "I only meant to burn up a single cloak."
Legolas paused, thinking over Estel's strange story. It was a funny tale to tell after enough years had passed, but the meaning behind his parable seemed clear.
"So you're comparing my attempts to protect my realm with the actions of you as a child playing with fire?" Legolas asked, though his voice was not unkind.
"No," Estel's smirk was enough to drive the elf mad. "You are comparing your actions to those of me as a child."
Legolas glared at his friend. The pair had spent many years traveling together, facing the dangers of Middle Earth. They were brothers in arms and Estel was Legolas' closest confidant. The sun was falling lower, soon the stars would rise and the pair would separate, journeying on to their tasks. They enjoyed each others' company in silence for a little while longer before standing, both wishing the other swift travels.
As Estel rose to leave, Legolas had one final parting remark.
"You know Estel," the Edain paused and turned his gray gaze to the the Elf. "I think that you have spent too long among the Eldar... you are beginning to give advice like Lord Elrond."
Estel smirked before walking off with a tread almost as silent as the elves of Imladris.
Glorfindel was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. It was an old habit that he had picked up as a young Lord in Gondolin... his father often told him that he would burn a hole in the rug. He actually did, on several occasions, wear down the rugs in his study enough to warrant a replacement. Of course, now he had no rug in his chambers as he had moved his own pale yellow rug with its floral embroiderments into Elenya's room. Instead he was pacing on the stone floor.
Perhaps I'll create a groove in the stone, he through wryly to himself.
His smile soon faded however as his mind was drawn back to his grief. And he owned that grief, he held onto it for dear life for he knew that if he allowed his grief to slip- if even for a moment, it would turn to rage.
Grief he could endure. He had done so many times from the crossing of the Helcaraxe to his city's fall... he had shed more tears than he could count.
But rage... oh rage was a rare and dangerous thing in him. He had always been known as slow to rage, as being of the such a sunny disposition that the other Lords of Gondolin would playfully joke that perhaps it was not Yavanna who blessed him, but maybe Nienna of Mercy. He had stood not he front lines of warriors as he faced down the foulest of beasts with only a grim stare of determination, whilst other lords roared in rage. After his return to Middle Earth he always found life far too precious to be spent angered over things seeming so petty to one with as long a life as he had. Perhaps though, perhaps he had spend too long avoiding rage and anger. He was holding back a dam of epic proportions... and, if he allowed the floodgates to break then not even Eru himself would be able to predict.
And so, he bottled that rage.
He allowed the tears to flow freely from his eyes.
Elenya... his precious, precious Elenya who stood with him against the Balrog. A child who faced Morgoth's fiercest spawn for the sake of a stranger, a child who trembled and yet shone with courage, a child who cradled a foreign being in her arms to whisper reassurances as he died... a child far too pure and innocent for the cruelty of Middle Earth.
She was lost, and she was found only by suspicion and hate.
Darkness grew where there once was none.
His Elenya was out for blood, and she hated him too much for him to stop her.
A large, large part of Glorifndel wished to chase her, to seek her out and make amends. But, as often as he was accused by Erestor of being rash, he wasn't a complete fool. He knew that some sort of power had awoken in Elenya that day, he knew that Nightshade was dying, and he knew that Elenya would never forgive any of them for allowing it to happen. There was nothing in all of Arda that Glorfindel could do to sooth Elenya's soul... except perhaps to serve Prince Legolas' head to her on a platter- something that he could and would never do.
Glorfindel found his eyes drawn towards the flames of his hearth. He had a strong dislike of large fires and thus, he usually preferred to only keep coals smoldering instead of burning logs like most were so fond of. Somehow however, a fire had grown in his hearth and he saw himself in the flames. He saw the fiery Balrog as it grasped him by his loose hair, pulling him down into the depths of the mountains. He saw the face of Elenya, a scared and terrifyingly innocent child battling the monster. Then, he saw more burning, the land was burning and she was soaring above it, face a stoic mask as she watched all before her perish. The flame version of Elenya suddenly turned and stared directly at Glorfindel who violently flinched backwards. He saw the face bend in grief, innocence back in her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. Just as Glorfindel moved forward to comfort her though, her face contorted in rage and she lept out of the flames firing Glorfindel to stumble wildly back, crashing into the small stool serving as his nightstand. He swore she was about to kill him, about to wrap her fiery tendrils around his form, now so alike to a Balrog that he wanted to weep.
"Glorfindel!" Elrond's sharp tone broke Glorfindel from his trance as he turned to gape at his lord who now stood with the door to his chambers open. "I was calling for you, Glorfindel," he spoke slowly and with that calm candor that only healers can seem to manage. "You would not respond no matter how loudly I shouted and I heard the crash."
Blinking rapidly, Glorfindel's mind processed the information... it was all a nightmare. A waking nightmare triggered by his grief and the flames of his hearth. He was no stranger to his nightmares, having not the gift of sight he knew them to be but fanciful tangents of his imagination... but that didn't make them feel any less real. He actually hadn't had one in what felt like ages... ever since his patrol where he first stumbled upon Elenya... he had seemed free of his terrors.
"Is it-"
"Peace," Glorfindel interrupted Elrond, holding up his good hand in a placating gesture. "A simple nightmare... nothing more."
Elrond nodded in understanding and paused for a moment, hesitating slightly.
"I'm sorry Glorfindel, but you can't-"
"I know." Glorfindel ran one hand nervously through his hair as he spoke the words that he had silently come to the conclusion over long ago. He just feared that now, speaking them aloud would make then real. "I cannot chase Elenya."
"Mellon-nin, I'm truly sorry, but-"
"She is in no state to be found," Glorfindel finished Elrond's sentence. "She will not desire the company of any among the Eldar. Perhaps... if Estel is-"
"He has already left Imladris."
Glorfindel's brow furrowed at Elrond's words. The Lord seemed even more hesitant than before and that made Glorfindel supremely worried. Glorfindel watched at Elrond fiddled with the ends of his knotted hair, a nervous tick which Glorfindel had noticed long ago, before he finally spoke.
"The One has been found."
Instead of the shock or disbelief that other had shown, Glorfindel merely sighed.
He was tired.
Tired of everything. He just wanted to down a few flagons of wine and sleep in his tiny cot stolen from the Healing Halls for a few decades at least.
Instead, he pulled the lone chair from where it stood next to his pitiful table and slid it across the room to Elrond. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he plopped himself on the bed and rested his chin on one hand.
"So, what must we do?"
Six spawn of Ungoliant laid dead on the grass. The creatures had strayed too far from the protection of their forests and were summarily executed by Evelyn.
But, there was no blood, no wounds, not so much as a scratch on any of the exoskeletons of the beasts. Instead, they were all dead, twisted and contorted into the strange of positions as all their energy, every ounce of life in them was drained.
Evelyn though that her training was coming along quite nicely.
With that in mind, she turned to the looming sight of Mirkwood in the distance. Placing a hand of Nightshade's back for support, she walked towards it. The closer they got the Mirkwood, the more keenly she could feel darkness and the evil that enveloped the place. Every step brought her closer and closer to her dread.
Finally, they reached the treeline. Behind them was an open meadow with plains and hills aplenty. A nearby brook created the trickling sound of water singing across rocks, but some instinct in Every allowed her to know that they would hear no babbling brook once they stepped between those trees, so dark and looming that they appeared like pillars of stone.
Evelyn paused and turned to Nightshade, a strange look emerging in her eyes before she spoke.
"You are, and have always been my most faithful companion. If I had not found you that night, all these years ago, then I would have perished long ago. But, I made a deal with a being every bit as evil as the elves, I made a bargain and it is my burden that I must carry. I will not ask for you to follow me."
Nightshade looked up at her for several moments, head tilted in a silent question before he spoke in return.
"I have followed you through storm and fair skies, through Mirkwood and the open plains, through elves and orcs alike... I will not leave you side now."
"But you know what I must do?" Evelyn's tone was filled with worry, but Nightshade only nodded in response.
"And I am with you."
Evelyn smiled, a small and sad thing, but a smile nonetheless. It had been a long time since she had been able to smile.
"Well the," she climbed atop Nightshade's back, allowing the massive wold to carry them through the thick overgrowth. "We have a King to burn."
They stepped across the boarder of the trees, entering the lands of the elvenking Thranduil.
They had returned with vengeance on their minds.