The Tale of Caran Elenath


~Part Two~


Caran Elenath was giggling merrily as she recounted her tale to a half-amused, half-horrified Shiara in the latter's fine Elven quarters, the former's eyes, as always, alight. One of the few things Caran enjoyed as much as setting up and pulling off her traps was telling others of their brilliant success (provided they did indeed succeed, which they nearly always did, but if by chance they did not, the elders would be slightly amused to find Caran The Nuisance strangely quiet).

'Tis so! I narry have dreamed that I should think of any sort of jest that would bring such glee! And yet!' Caran crowed as she sprung atop Shiara's bed, bouncing, most un-Elvish behavior. 'And yet, who should come across mine cunning trap other than the King Thranduil himself!' Shiara sighed, trying to act as an example by giving Caran a stern gaze, whereas in fact it was all Shiara herself could do to hide her smile.

'I pray thee listen, Caran Elenath,' she said firmly in her lovely voice that sung even as she spoke, 'though your "jests" as you do call them, may be quite "gleeful", they are to get you into trouble one of these days, aye, and soon!'

Now, Shiara had already prepared herself for the torrent of giggles and brush-offs that always occurred whenever Caran was reproached for her deeds like this, followed by a confident stride out of the room and a severely irked cry from some elder normally less than an hour later, but instead, there came none of these things at all. Mildly surprised, Shiara turned her head about and saw the young girl staring out the window distractedly, out at Mirkwood, out o'er the trees...

'Young Caran,' Shiara pressed as she slowly came forward, 'what troubles thee?'

Caran's voice held no mirth as she spoke; Eerie, odd for such a joyous child, it was dead and hollow, as is a phantom's heart. 'It is... It is here...'

Shiara's heart skipped a beat, though she knew not why. Indeed, she did not know what the "it" her young friend was referring to was. Her voice was slightly hesitant:

'What... Of what do you speak...?'

Then, Caran did something that nigh all Elves do, yet she herself had never been known to do, but, as was discovered by Shiara alone that very eve, she was quite skilled at:

She began to sing. A haunting, liting melody that made Shiara shiver and wish that someone(though she would never admit whom) was there to hold her, tightly...:

'I ride the darkness far and wide

'Twixt Iron Hills and Hell,

'In its secrecy I doth confide,

'As I tread mine crimson trail.

'I hath witnessed bloodshed 'long the way

'Not seen by tenscore Men,

'Few Dwarves nor Eves can e'er say

'They hath gazed at Death - The Beast of Rhen!

'Eyes, burning ice, melting through, thine very wretched soul,

'Silken threads wrap 'round thine head

'Tis doom! They take their toll!

'To leave that corpse-strewn path I walk

'In echoes of the damned,

'Yet knowing this be empty talk,

'Alas! Doomed as is a Man!

'T'were I could escape mine fate

'Live ten thousand years again,

'I should further curse, yet further hunt,

'Kins' Doom! The Beast of Rhen!'

Caran continued to stare out the window, looking far too old, too tired, than was to Shiara's liking. The Elf-maiden's lip quivered at the child's words; So many questions! The wretched song was not something the girl could have written, and certainly not something she could have experienced first-hand... Could it have been?

Shakily, Shiara's fair lips began to form words of question when Caran's small form suddenly collapsed against the windowsill, pale arms hanging out into the night air, defeaning silence.

A Warg howled in the distance.

'Caran?!' Shiara rushed to the Elf-child's side.

Then, an Orc's cry echoing across the woodlands...

'Caran!' Shiara shouted. Then, quickly, she called out. 'Make haste, help! Caran, Caran Elenath has fainted! Galier, Brother Linel, help! Help us!'

She cried out in desperation, her normally-adept mind not knowing what to do. 'LEGOLAS!!!'

~*~

Legolas had arrived nigh-instantly at the maiden's cry, dashing up the curving stone stairway with feathery strides, carried in the wind, yet lighting, as quick as if attatched to an arrow. Linel and Galier were not far behind, the latter's dislike for the child overweighed by his respect for life -and that the Elven-guard did not, in truth, actually hate Caran either.

'Sister!' Linel exclaimed, worry etched upon his face. 'What troubles thee and yo -Caran!'

Caran was lying limply on the floor, lips slightly parted, hand outstretched, curling and uncurling, its twitching the only movement Caran now made. Legolas swallowed as he moved to Shiara's side, putting a hand on her shoulder as he reached down to touch the child's forehead with the other.

'Tis warm,' he whispered. The other Elves' eyes widened -it was extremely odd for an Elf to be beset with any sort of sickness, immortal as they were. Galier was the first to recollect his wits.

'Well then, take her to the healer!' There was a pause; Galier Crossback then grew angry. 'Fools! Make haste! We have all of eternity, mayhap, but she does not! Haste, haste!'

Linel nodded, quickly picking up the small girl in his arms and starting his way down the stairs, almost as quickly as his prince had come. Then, suddenly, his hair a-whirl behind him, he snapped his neck back to look at his adopted sister.

'Shiara! Tell Legolas and Galier all that you know, all that you've heard, if anything at all! Prithee, make haste in doing so, lest all be lost for a young life!'


~*~

'The Beast of Rhen?'

The King Thranduil raised an eyebrow at his son, sitting back slightly in his lush throne, holding the carved wood stave that signified his rank in his right hand, an immensely regal and powerful air about his intimidating-looking figure, despite smelling slightly of pastie.

'Aye Father,' Legolas replied, pacing a bit around the room. 'Shiara spoke to me of it, that Young Caran began to sing a rather hellish tune...' The prince bit his lip worriedly. 'It disturbed her...'

The king smiled slightly despite himself at his son's reaction. 'Hm, I am not...sure...if I hath heard of this... "Beast of..' His voice ran thin as a river trickling to a stream, then fell silent.

Legolas' ears twitched slightly. 'Father...?'

Thranduil sighed. 'Legolas... My son, Laeglass...' His deep eyes stared at the ground for but a moment, yet Legolas knew -something was greatly amiss. 'The Beast of Rhen...'

The King of Northern Mirkwood cleared his throat and began a tale, during which Prince Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil, found his gray eyes, like the stormy seas, growing steadily; Wider and wider...

'The Beast of Rhen is the creature who is, in fact, responsible for the deaths of the parents of Caran Elenath, as well as several other Elves on that fated eve...And long since before that! Alas! If only we had been able to contain it! Prithee listen, my child: The Beast of Rhen be not an Orc... The beast be a spider!'


Can we not easily dispatch Spiders? Legolas' eyes asked. Thranduil shook his head, eyebrows arching, expelling a deep sigh.

'It is no ordinary beast, my son. It can control the foul minds of the Orcs, make them do what it will! And, once, every few centuries, it commands an army of them to attack this very place... Thankfully, its killings had ceased for nigh a thousand years, before the last attack which robbed Caran of her family, and we had prayed the creature had at last been slain. Nay! Twas not to be! For it returned, as you know, as you remember...' His voice quivered slightly.

'Father...' Legolas began slowly. 'Be there... Be there a way to slay this monstrosity?!'

Again, a melancholy smile passed over the king's lips, wistful. 'Thou hast come to love Caran Elenath dearly, as if she were thine kin, thine own sister.. And thine people, for thou knowest what this creature of Rhen shall do if it goes unstopped... There may be a way to destory it, Legolas, may be a way to bring forth the Sun again, if only a mite, on the darkened lands of Mirkwood!' His voice hardened. 'But harken to mine words: Only may! To find the Sun to save the lives of Elves to come, if it indeed does exist, thou wouldst have to stand inches before the creature itself, and even if thou didst manage to find the spot on the creature's body, the Mark of Rhen... To get that close wouldst surely spell thine death.'

There was a brief silence, the sound of water dripping onto the marble floor a few rooms down embedding into the two

Elves' minds, as the tension began to choke them as if a heavy cloak.

'LEGOLAS!'

'Oomph!'

Legolas found himself holding the tiny Caran in his arms; She was beaming, quite well, the laughter of Linel and Shiara and the cries of Galiel echoing behind her.

'I toldst thee she wouldst be fine!' Galiel fairly spat. Linel cuffed him lightly.

'Come now, have a heart mine dear friend, she is well; Be at peace!'

Galiel scowled, then, to many's surprise, broke into a grin. 'Aye, then at peace I be, nin mellon!'

Legolas suddenly frowned at Caran, heart slightly a-panic. 'Young friend... How long hast thou been standing there?'

Caran blinked in mild confusion.

'Standing, thou sayest? Be at peace! I hath only just arrived, come from the unbearable confines of the infirmary!' She wrinkled her nose in distaste, then continued to smile, and then, noticed the king. Quickly, she scrambled behind the prince's back, clinging to his shoulder as if some sort of raccoon, taking nervous glimpses at the monarch through brown locks covering her eyes. The three friends of the prince chuckled softly, and Legolas himself grinned.

'Well,' said King Thranduil, gathering his robes about him, 'I shalt best be off now. Cuio mae!'

He left the room briskly, rowan door thundering closed behind him. Caran waiteed until his footsteps were quite faint, even to her own Elven ears, before adding, 'Cuio mae, King Thranduil, Lord of the Pasties!'

~*~


In a room where the senses ceased to be of any use -utter darkness, utter silence, utter staleness, utter coldness, and utter dryness- there lay an Elven girl upon a soft bed, her eyes staring upward at the nothing in her view.

The Mark of Rhen...


Slowly, she stood up, glancing about at nothing at all, carefully, before walking toward a cupboard, a cupboard she knew was there by herat alone, and opening it slowly, silently.

Her small fingers easily found the expertly-crafted bow, the quiver full of arrows. Admiring the craftsmanship, she ran her index finger along the wood... She then slipped a long bowknife into her belt, for indeed, she had gone to bed fully clothed. From her pocket she draw a scrap of parchment and a quill, and quickly, she scrawled a message upon it.

The child then jumped from the window without the wind even whispering by her garments, leaving no sign of her e'er having been there, save for slightly-rumpled sheets, and a note, fluttering upon the table.

'Farethee well, mine dearest friends. Forever I am sorry for the troubles I have caused thee. But fear not! For at last, I shall be at my peace!
I go to find the Sun!'