Chapter 5 - This chapter is a very important one and has undergone only
minor revision. There is one more revision coming and it will be the last
one I hope. I apologize for what is about to transpire. Just remember.it
is peaceful in Mandos Halls. :(
Norui 3018 TA [June 3018 TA]
The tall, proud young man stood on the western bank of the river Anduin, his dark blonde hair drying in the breeze. The smell of smoke was choking the air. On the other side of the river from him were the ruins of the eastern side of the once great city of Osgiliath, Citadel of the Stars, Gondor's first capital. Anger and fear coursed through him, as he clenched his fists. Of the company that had held the bridge that once spanned the two halves of Osgiliath only four now lived, having saved their lives by swimming to the western shore as the bridge was cast down. The Forces of the Nameless Enemy had taken the eastern half of the city that straddled the River. The power of the Black lands was growing and moving towards Minas Tirith.
"Brother?" A voice behind him called weakly.
He turned to see a slim younger man with dark blonde hair looking at him through bleak grey eyes.
"Are you alright, my brother?" He asked, straightening and moving to join the older man.
"Aye, Faramir." His voice was tight and full of wrath. "We were outnumbered," he muttered, shaking a fist toward the east. "What chance did we have when Mordor has swelled its ranks with the Easterlings and the Haradrim."
"Nay, Boromir. It was not only that," one of the other men said, joining them to look across at the place of their last stand east of Anduin. "There was a fell power with them. Some saw it, like a great black horseman, they said. Wherever he came battle madness filled the foe, but fear fell on us and many fled. We few came back to destroy the bridge. We could not stand against such a power."
Boromir sighed, passing a hand through his damp hair.
"Smoke rises once more from Orodruin - Mount Doom. I know not what we can do." He said wearily.
"We will not give up," the man said sternly, his eyes sharp and grey as he stared at the rising smoke in the east.
"Nay. We never will. Come. We must tell my father what has befallen."
The four bedraggled men headed to the west, toward the city of Minis Tirith.
Smeagol sat quietly in his cell, surrounded by stone walls. The Orcs were coming, he knew this. He didn't understand the game they were playing with the one Elf, but sooner or later they would come for him.
"Oh, my precious," he moaned. "We won't return to Mordor. We won't. Nasty Orcs won't catch us. No, my precious. They won't."
The glimmer of a plan was forming in his twisted mind. His fingers ached with wanting the precious again and its call was much stronger.
"Baggins," he whispered, wringing his dexterous fingers in agony. "Baggins."
He knew what he had to do to get the precious once more. He needed to go west. Always west. Away from Mordor. Away from the Elves.
"They are coming for us, my precious. But they won't catch us, will they. No. Not us. Not us. I am coming, my precious. I am coming to you."
Deep in Mirkwood Forest a different sort of attack was being planned. A group of Orcs had come from the west in the Misty Mountains to join the smaller group already entrenched in northeastern Mirkwood. This small group had studied the habits of the Wood Elves that guarded the creature. They knew their movements and how many guards to expect. Not nearly enough guards, they laughed. The Elves were wearying of the task and were less vigilant than they should be. That was good. The attack would take them by surprise, even though they knew that Orcs were in the area. There would be no backtracking this night. Any Elves not killed would be taken for sport.
The Orcs talked excitedly about this, sharpening scimitars and filling quivers with sharp dark arrows. Only one Orc stood apart, his hands caressing a single black arrow. The long wait would soon be over.
"Sen daw le ath soga in agar, nin morn gothfeng." [This night you will drink his blood, my black arrow.] His blue eyes gazed upward. Clouds veiled the moon and stars. No stars this night, he thought with satisfaction. The stars will not shine on you tonight, Legolas Elvellon. He raised the arrow upward to the dark sky. Tonight you fly.
Legolas watched as Brethil and Lindir lead Smeagol out for his nightly climb up Beleg Doron. The creature had been acting stranger than ususal. He kept fretting to himself unintelligibly, his large eyes round with worry and cunning.
"Watch him closely tonight," Legolas called after them as they disappeared down the path into the forest. "He seems to be up to something."
"It is nothing," Lindir called, smiling back at him. His green eyes danced. He had spent the day with Meneliell, lost in the pleasures of the young maiden.
"Don't worry, Legolas. I will watch out for any of Smeagol's tricks," Brethil laughed. "Lindir has so many stars in his eyes that he won't see anything but Meneliell's -uh -face."
Legolas shook his head in amusement, but the feeling of foreboding wouldn't leave him.
"Be careful," he whispered, watching until they disappeared from sight. "Elenath sila erin le." [Stars shine on you.]
But there were no stars on this night.
A few hours later the Orcs attacked. A large group came streaming out of the trees near the palace, weapons drawn, throats filled with howls of delight. The Elves caught unawares, scrambled to defend themselves. Soon the peace of Mirkwood was filled with the sound of arrows flying through the air and swords clashing.
Legolas had been eating a quiet supper with his father and brothers when a guard had run into the dining room.
"Yrch!" He yelled, his sword dripping black blood. "They are attacking us!" Thranduil stood, looking shocked. But then anger suffused his handsome face. He strode across the room, pulling his flowing green robe off.
"Bring my sword," he ordered.
Legolas and his brothers were sprinting across the room, grabbing their weapons. Outside the palace the Elves were valiantly fighting the Orcs. Legolas had soon shot all his arrows, each one finding their mark. He noticed that the Orcs seemed uncomfortable fighting here, seeming clumsy as they tried to fight beneath the trees of Mirkwood. But he gave it little thought. He pulled his knives from their sheaths on his back. He slashed and stabbed at the Orcs in a dance of death. He felt a sharp burning pain as an Orc scimitar sliced his arm. He ground his teeth together and managed to fell the Orc. His grip on one knife loosened. He grasped it more tightly and continued to cut his way through the Orcs. Then the air was filled with black arrows. It was the last assault before the creatures turned and fled back into the trees.
The cries of the wounded reached his ears, as Mirkwood's youngest prince lowered his bloodied knives. Elves bearing spears were running them through the prone bodies of the fallen Orcs, making certain that they were dead. Others were helping their injured comrades up, or kneeling beside those who would never rise again. Legolas cleaned his blades on his tunic then sheathed them, hissing as pain burned along his arm.
"Are you injured, Prince Legolas?"
A healer in blue and white was standing at his side.
"It is not bad. Please tend those who are more seriously injured. I shall be fine."
The healer frowned slightly then moved away.
"Why would they attack us then flee?" Tavor asked, cleaning the blade of his sword. "They obviously came from the mountains. They knew not how to fight here in the trees."
"I know not," Legolas answered. "Have you seen my father?"
"Aye. He is unharmed." Tavor smiled. "I think he enjoys not these battles."
"Who does," Legolas murmured. He turned to see his father standing several feet away, cleaning blood from his hands, his face disfigured with disgust.
"We had better fetch the others. They will need to know what has happened. Luckily the creature Smeagol was with them."
"Oh, no," Legolas breathe, fear gripping his heart. What if they had been attacked, too? There had been only six of them with Smeagol. He turned and ran down the path, leaping nimbly over the bodies of the fallen Orcs. Tavor and a few of the others hurried after him. They ran for some time, no words passing their lips.
A deep feeling of foreboding filled Legolas. He feared that the attack on the palace had been a ruse, one to hide the true intentions of the Orcs. Gollum knew that something was happening. The pitiful creature had been behaving in an unusual manner, just as he had remarked to Lindir and Brethil earlier.
Lindir and Brethil.
"No," he moaned, his concern for his friends giving him fresh speed. Tanglinna was with them, and there was no better archer in Mirkwood, but still the feeling of foreboding would not leave his heart. So it was that he reached Beleg Doron first.
Of the six guards that had escorted Smeagol here this night, three lay dead, arrows riddling their bodies.
Legolas moved to the nearest. . It was Meren. He had been a mischievous youth, always joking and playing tricks. But he would be playing pranks no more. Beside him riddled with arrows was Tanglinna. The prince shuddered, his heart breaking as he knelt to close the Master Archer's eyes. Tears burned and fell as he raised one of the older Elf's slim hands to his lips.
"No na sidh," [be at peace} he murmured, watching his tears slid over the back of the pale hand. He raised his head and turned to gaze at the last of the Elves.
He was lying against the oak tree, his knife still in his hand.
Legolas knelt beside his friend, tears spilling from his blue eyes once more.
"Brethil."
The Elf stirred slightly, opening his eyes. The gray orbs were filled with such pain, that Legolas reached up and touched the bloodstained cheek with gentle fingers.
"Lego - Legolas?" Blood leaked from between his lips.
Mirkwood's prince grasped his friend's hand gently.
"I am here, Brethil."
Brethil's grey eyes turned to him, his lips parted in a smile, but the hand between Legolas' was deathly cold.
"I .I am sorry, Legolas.They took him.Smeagol.I think he knew they were coming.I am sorry," The Elf choked as blood flooded his mouth, leaving him gasping for air.
"Shhh. Do not think of it, Brethil. The Orcs planned this attack very well. It is no one's fault. Least of all yours."
Brethil's breathing eased.
"I.I am sorry that.that I never met you Orc." He whispered. Then he stilled, his eyes glazing over in death.
"Legolas?" Tavor knelt beside them. "Oh, Brethil." His hand rested on top of Legolas', which still held Brethil's. He could feel Legolas' hand trembling beneath his own. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he knelt beside his friends.
"He is gone," Mirkwood's prince murmured.
"Elbereth cradle him."
They sat silently, the night quiet about them, Elbereth's stars suffocated by clouds. Tavor's free arm moved around Legolas' shoulders. They sat quietly for a time, not knowing what to say or even do. The Tricksy Trio was no more.
"The others." Tavor began as he gazed about the clearing. "They're not here. We fear they have been taken. The creature Smeagol - his tracks are in the midst of the Orcs."
Legolas sighed deeply, silent tears sliding down his cheeks.
"They went.south," Tavor said reluctantly.
South. To Dol Guldur.
"We do not go that way," Legolas whispered, gazing at Brethil's face.
Suddenly he gasped.
"Lindir!" He carefully draped Brethil's hands over his chest. "They've taken Lindir?"
"Aye." Tavor stood, his face solemn in his grief. "And Cuil and Calenthar. What.what should we do?"
Legolas turned to look at the four Elves who had accompanied he and Tavor, more pain biting through him.
"Take them home." He said, gesturing at the three fallen, his eyes lingering on Brethil and Tanglinna. He had never felt such lose before.
"What about you?"
"I.I need to be alone for a moment."
"Legolas, it may not be safe."
"Please, Tavor." Anguish filled blue eyes turned to his friend. "I will be fine. Now please take them home to their families."
Reverently the three bodies were lifted and borne away, Tavor bearing Brethil.
"Legolas, please-"
"Go, Tavor."
The Elf hesitated then turned and slowly left the clearing, tears still sliping down his face.
Legolas swallowed and glanced about him at the bloodstained grass. Brethil and Tanglinna dead and Lindir taken. He felt his grief swelling to an unbearable point, threatening to overtake him What could he do?
"Lindir." He murmured, clenching his hands. He could do nothing for Brethil and Tanglinna, but the others needed his help. His arm throbbed with the pain of his own forgotten wound. What would he tell Meneliell? He had failed them. He should have come with them this night. Some how he should have known this would happen. Tears slid down his cheeks. "I am sorry, nin meldirrim. [my friends] I am so sorry."
He bowed his head, a hand rising to cover his face. Silent sobs shook his body.
"Legolas Elvellon."
The Elf froze, his eyes widening, his hand dropping to his side.
"Legolas Elvellon, met gar tol an le." [We have come for you.]
Slowly he turned, his heart in his throat.
Standing behind him in the deep shadows of the trees was Egla Ash. The Orc moved closer, his great black bow in his hands, a thick black arrow fitted to the string.
"Met govad ad." [We meet again.]
Legolas stared at him unable to speak, the fear that had plagued him since he had found the first message hanging in the trees filled him once more, mingling with the nigh overwhelming grief.
"Le alcar ped?" [You don't speak?] The Orc shrugged. "Aren't you going to defend yourself against me, nin mellon?"
Legolas swallowed.
"I will not kill a friend," he said quietly, though all his instincts screamed for him to reach for the bow at his back. Brethil, Tanglinna, and Meren slain; Lindir, Cuil and Calenthar taken by the ones Egla Ash traveled with. Too many friends had already died this night.
The Orc smiled, it sent shudders of horror through the Elf to see its cruelty and malice.
"But I would. Namarie, Legolas Elvellon."
He raised the bow and released the black arrow.
*Note - Yeah, I did this last time, didn't I. Well, I did it again. Ha ha. *Note - I was rereading a section in FOTR and came across a Rivendell Elf named Lindir. They are not the same. This Lindir is mine, not Tolkien's.
I may need some time - give me time - to quote an old Hobbit - to finish the next chapter. It is slow coming. Go figure. Maybe Salak can teach you the Write Faster Dance.
Lithia - Thanks for jumping right on that last chapter. You must have read it as soon as it came up. Thanks a lot! UV - You thought the last chapter was a cliffhanger? Just wait until you read this one! (heh heh heh heh) JastaElf - You're reviews make my day! And when you mentioned that flashback to Legolas touching Egla Ash's face - that was so cool! I didn't even think of that. (Yikes!) AJ Matthews - Thanks for reviewing! I will continue. (hand over heart) Haha. LOTR lover - Thanks for all your wonderful compliments. That makes me feel great! (Big grin) I'm glad that you like the tie in with Master Tolkien's timeline. The story with Gollum in Mirkwood was the story I wanted to do, but Egla Ash caught everyone's attention sooo.I got to do Gollum anyway! Shinigamio - Thank you! Angst can be fun. And I appreciate all my reviewers so I am glad to take the time to respond to everyone. I love you guys! (sob sob) long under tree - Thanks for reviewing and for the compliments. And I'll tell you about all that Elvish. I have the tendency to throw that in when I get stuck. It gives me a break while I look up the words. And unfortunately when they zip my file from Microsoft Word over here, they change it. All the Elvish I use is in italics on my file so everyone who doesn't want to read it can skip it, but when they take it here, its gone. Sorry about that. BTW tell your editor to hurry!! Horus - Hi. Thanks for reviewing! This is what happens now! Salak - Thanks for your review! I enjoy reading them! And I have a favor to ask of you. Please continue dancing your Write Faster Dance. My muse is being fickle about the next chapter so - keep dancing. I know you can do it!
Norui 3018 TA [June 3018 TA]
The tall, proud young man stood on the western bank of the river Anduin, his dark blonde hair drying in the breeze. The smell of smoke was choking the air. On the other side of the river from him were the ruins of the eastern side of the once great city of Osgiliath, Citadel of the Stars, Gondor's first capital. Anger and fear coursed through him, as he clenched his fists. Of the company that had held the bridge that once spanned the two halves of Osgiliath only four now lived, having saved their lives by swimming to the western shore as the bridge was cast down. The Forces of the Nameless Enemy had taken the eastern half of the city that straddled the River. The power of the Black lands was growing and moving towards Minas Tirith.
"Brother?" A voice behind him called weakly.
He turned to see a slim younger man with dark blonde hair looking at him through bleak grey eyes.
"Are you alright, my brother?" He asked, straightening and moving to join the older man.
"Aye, Faramir." His voice was tight and full of wrath. "We were outnumbered," he muttered, shaking a fist toward the east. "What chance did we have when Mordor has swelled its ranks with the Easterlings and the Haradrim."
"Nay, Boromir. It was not only that," one of the other men said, joining them to look across at the place of their last stand east of Anduin. "There was a fell power with them. Some saw it, like a great black horseman, they said. Wherever he came battle madness filled the foe, but fear fell on us and many fled. We few came back to destroy the bridge. We could not stand against such a power."
Boromir sighed, passing a hand through his damp hair.
"Smoke rises once more from Orodruin - Mount Doom. I know not what we can do." He said wearily.
"We will not give up," the man said sternly, his eyes sharp and grey as he stared at the rising smoke in the east.
"Nay. We never will. Come. We must tell my father what has befallen."
The four bedraggled men headed to the west, toward the city of Minis Tirith.
Smeagol sat quietly in his cell, surrounded by stone walls. The Orcs were coming, he knew this. He didn't understand the game they were playing with the one Elf, but sooner or later they would come for him.
"Oh, my precious," he moaned. "We won't return to Mordor. We won't. Nasty Orcs won't catch us. No, my precious. They won't."
The glimmer of a plan was forming in his twisted mind. His fingers ached with wanting the precious again and its call was much stronger.
"Baggins," he whispered, wringing his dexterous fingers in agony. "Baggins."
He knew what he had to do to get the precious once more. He needed to go west. Always west. Away from Mordor. Away from the Elves.
"They are coming for us, my precious. But they won't catch us, will they. No. Not us. Not us. I am coming, my precious. I am coming to you."
Deep in Mirkwood Forest a different sort of attack was being planned. A group of Orcs had come from the west in the Misty Mountains to join the smaller group already entrenched in northeastern Mirkwood. This small group had studied the habits of the Wood Elves that guarded the creature. They knew their movements and how many guards to expect. Not nearly enough guards, they laughed. The Elves were wearying of the task and were less vigilant than they should be. That was good. The attack would take them by surprise, even though they knew that Orcs were in the area. There would be no backtracking this night. Any Elves not killed would be taken for sport.
The Orcs talked excitedly about this, sharpening scimitars and filling quivers with sharp dark arrows. Only one Orc stood apart, his hands caressing a single black arrow. The long wait would soon be over.
"Sen daw le ath soga in agar, nin morn gothfeng." [This night you will drink his blood, my black arrow.] His blue eyes gazed upward. Clouds veiled the moon and stars. No stars this night, he thought with satisfaction. The stars will not shine on you tonight, Legolas Elvellon. He raised the arrow upward to the dark sky. Tonight you fly.
Legolas watched as Brethil and Lindir lead Smeagol out for his nightly climb up Beleg Doron. The creature had been acting stranger than ususal. He kept fretting to himself unintelligibly, his large eyes round with worry and cunning.
"Watch him closely tonight," Legolas called after them as they disappeared down the path into the forest. "He seems to be up to something."
"It is nothing," Lindir called, smiling back at him. His green eyes danced. He had spent the day with Meneliell, lost in the pleasures of the young maiden.
"Don't worry, Legolas. I will watch out for any of Smeagol's tricks," Brethil laughed. "Lindir has so many stars in his eyes that he won't see anything but Meneliell's -uh -face."
Legolas shook his head in amusement, but the feeling of foreboding wouldn't leave him.
"Be careful," he whispered, watching until they disappeared from sight. "Elenath sila erin le." [Stars shine on you.]
But there were no stars on this night.
A few hours later the Orcs attacked. A large group came streaming out of the trees near the palace, weapons drawn, throats filled with howls of delight. The Elves caught unawares, scrambled to defend themselves. Soon the peace of Mirkwood was filled with the sound of arrows flying through the air and swords clashing.
Legolas had been eating a quiet supper with his father and brothers when a guard had run into the dining room.
"Yrch!" He yelled, his sword dripping black blood. "They are attacking us!" Thranduil stood, looking shocked. But then anger suffused his handsome face. He strode across the room, pulling his flowing green robe off.
"Bring my sword," he ordered.
Legolas and his brothers were sprinting across the room, grabbing their weapons. Outside the palace the Elves were valiantly fighting the Orcs. Legolas had soon shot all his arrows, each one finding their mark. He noticed that the Orcs seemed uncomfortable fighting here, seeming clumsy as they tried to fight beneath the trees of Mirkwood. But he gave it little thought. He pulled his knives from their sheaths on his back. He slashed and stabbed at the Orcs in a dance of death. He felt a sharp burning pain as an Orc scimitar sliced his arm. He ground his teeth together and managed to fell the Orc. His grip on one knife loosened. He grasped it more tightly and continued to cut his way through the Orcs. Then the air was filled with black arrows. It was the last assault before the creatures turned and fled back into the trees.
The cries of the wounded reached his ears, as Mirkwood's youngest prince lowered his bloodied knives. Elves bearing spears were running them through the prone bodies of the fallen Orcs, making certain that they were dead. Others were helping their injured comrades up, or kneeling beside those who would never rise again. Legolas cleaned his blades on his tunic then sheathed them, hissing as pain burned along his arm.
"Are you injured, Prince Legolas?"
A healer in blue and white was standing at his side.
"It is not bad. Please tend those who are more seriously injured. I shall be fine."
The healer frowned slightly then moved away.
"Why would they attack us then flee?" Tavor asked, cleaning the blade of his sword. "They obviously came from the mountains. They knew not how to fight here in the trees."
"I know not," Legolas answered. "Have you seen my father?"
"Aye. He is unharmed." Tavor smiled. "I think he enjoys not these battles."
"Who does," Legolas murmured. He turned to see his father standing several feet away, cleaning blood from his hands, his face disfigured with disgust.
"We had better fetch the others. They will need to know what has happened. Luckily the creature Smeagol was with them."
"Oh, no," Legolas breathe, fear gripping his heart. What if they had been attacked, too? There had been only six of them with Smeagol. He turned and ran down the path, leaping nimbly over the bodies of the fallen Orcs. Tavor and a few of the others hurried after him. They ran for some time, no words passing their lips.
A deep feeling of foreboding filled Legolas. He feared that the attack on the palace had been a ruse, one to hide the true intentions of the Orcs. Gollum knew that something was happening. The pitiful creature had been behaving in an unusual manner, just as he had remarked to Lindir and Brethil earlier.
Lindir and Brethil.
"No," he moaned, his concern for his friends giving him fresh speed. Tanglinna was with them, and there was no better archer in Mirkwood, but still the feeling of foreboding would not leave his heart. So it was that he reached Beleg Doron first.
Of the six guards that had escorted Smeagol here this night, three lay dead, arrows riddling their bodies.
Legolas moved to the nearest. . It was Meren. He had been a mischievous youth, always joking and playing tricks. But he would be playing pranks no more. Beside him riddled with arrows was Tanglinna. The prince shuddered, his heart breaking as he knelt to close the Master Archer's eyes. Tears burned and fell as he raised one of the older Elf's slim hands to his lips.
"No na sidh," [be at peace} he murmured, watching his tears slid over the back of the pale hand. He raised his head and turned to gaze at the last of the Elves.
He was lying against the oak tree, his knife still in his hand.
Legolas knelt beside his friend, tears spilling from his blue eyes once more.
"Brethil."
The Elf stirred slightly, opening his eyes. The gray orbs were filled with such pain, that Legolas reached up and touched the bloodstained cheek with gentle fingers.
"Lego - Legolas?" Blood leaked from between his lips.
Mirkwood's prince grasped his friend's hand gently.
"I am here, Brethil."
Brethil's grey eyes turned to him, his lips parted in a smile, but the hand between Legolas' was deathly cold.
"I .I am sorry, Legolas.They took him.Smeagol.I think he knew they were coming.I am sorry," The Elf choked as blood flooded his mouth, leaving him gasping for air.
"Shhh. Do not think of it, Brethil. The Orcs planned this attack very well. It is no one's fault. Least of all yours."
Brethil's breathing eased.
"I.I am sorry that.that I never met you Orc." He whispered. Then he stilled, his eyes glazing over in death.
"Legolas?" Tavor knelt beside them. "Oh, Brethil." His hand rested on top of Legolas', which still held Brethil's. He could feel Legolas' hand trembling beneath his own. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he knelt beside his friends.
"He is gone," Mirkwood's prince murmured.
"Elbereth cradle him."
They sat silently, the night quiet about them, Elbereth's stars suffocated by clouds. Tavor's free arm moved around Legolas' shoulders. They sat quietly for a time, not knowing what to say or even do. The Tricksy Trio was no more.
"The others." Tavor began as he gazed about the clearing. "They're not here. We fear they have been taken. The creature Smeagol - his tracks are in the midst of the Orcs."
Legolas sighed deeply, silent tears sliding down his cheeks.
"They went.south," Tavor said reluctantly.
South. To Dol Guldur.
"We do not go that way," Legolas whispered, gazing at Brethil's face.
Suddenly he gasped.
"Lindir!" He carefully draped Brethil's hands over his chest. "They've taken Lindir?"
"Aye." Tavor stood, his face solemn in his grief. "And Cuil and Calenthar. What.what should we do?"
Legolas turned to look at the four Elves who had accompanied he and Tavor, more pain biting through him.
"Take them home." He said, gesturing at the three fallen, his eyes lingering on Brethil and Tanglinna. He had never felt such lose before.
"What about you?"
"I.I need to be alone for a moment."
"Legolas, it may not be safe."
"Please, Tavor." Anguish filled blue eyes turned to his friend. "I will be fine. Now please take them home to their families."
Reverently the three bodies were lifted and borne away, Tavor bearing Brethil.
"Legolas, please-"
"Go, Tavor."
The Elf hesitated then turned and slowly left the clearing, tears still sliping down his face.
Legolas swallowed and glanced about him at the bloodstained grass. Brethil and Tanglinna dead and Lindir taken. He felt his grief swelling to an unbearable point, threatening to overtake him What could he do?
"Lindir." He murmured, clenching his hands. He could do nothing for Brethil and Tanglinna, but the others needed his help. His arm throbbed with the pain of his own forgotten wound. What would he tell Meneliell? He had failed them. He should have come with them this night. Some how he should have known this would happen. Tears slid down his cheeks. "I am sorry, nin meldirrim. [my friends] I am so sorry."
He bowed his head, a hand rising to cover his face. Silent sobs shook his body.
"Legolas Elvellon."
The Elf froze, his eyes widening, his hand dropping to his side.
"Legolas Elvellon, met gar tol an le." [We have come for you.]
Slowly he turned, his heart in his throat.
Standing behind him in the deep shadows of the trees was Egla Ash. The Orc moved closer, his great black bow in his hands, a thick black arrow fitted to the string.
"Met govad ad." [We meet again.]
Legolas stared at him unable to speak, the fear that had plagued him since he had found the first message hanging in the trees filled him once more, mingling with the nigh overwhelming grief.
"Le alcar ped?" [You don't speak?] The Orc shrugged. "Aren't you going to defend yourself against me, nin mellon?"
Legolas swallowed.
"I will not kill a friend," he said quietly, though all his instincts screamed for him to reach for the bow at his back. Brethil, Tanglinna, and Meren slain; Lindir, Cuil and Calenthar taken by the ones Egla Ash traveled with. Too many friends had already died this night.
The Orc smiled, it sent shudders of horror through the Elf to see its cruelty and malice.
"But I would. Namarie, Legolas Elvellon."
He raised the bow and released the black arrow.
*Note - Yeah, I did this last time, didn't I. Well, I did it again. Ha ha. *Note - I was rereading a section in FOTR and came across a Rivendell Elf named Lindir. They are not the same. This Lindir is mine, not Tolkien's.
I may need some time - give me time - to quote an old Hobbit - to finish the next chapter. It is slow coming. Go figure. Maybe Salak can teach you the Write Faster Dance.
Lithia - Thanks for jumping right on that last chapter. You must have read it as soon as it came up. Thanks a lot! UV - You thought the last chapter was a cliffhanger? Just wait until you read this one! (heh heh heh heh) JastaElf - You're reviews make my day! And when you mentioned that flashback to Legolas touching Egla Ash's face - that was so cool! I didn't even think of that. (Yikes!) AJ Matthews - Thanks for reviewing! I will continue. (hand over heart) Haha. LOTR lover - Thanks for all your wonderful compliments. That makes me feel great! (Big grin) I'm glad that you like the tie in with Master Tolkien's timeline. The story with Gollum in Mirkwood was the story I wanted to do, but Egla Ash caught everyone's attention sooo.I got to do Gollum anyway! Shinigamio - Thank you! Angst can be fun. And I appreciate all my reviewers so I am glad to take the time to respond to everyone. I love you guys! (sob sob) long under tree - Thanks for reviewing and for the compliments. And I'll tell you about all that Elvish. I have the tendency to throw that in when I get stuck. It gives me a break while I look up the words. And unfortunately when they zip my file from Microsoft Word over here, they change it. All the Elvish I use is in italics on my file so everyone who doesn't want to read it can skip it, but when they take it here, its gone. Sorry about that. BTW tell your editor to hurry!! Horus - Hi. Thanks for reviewing! This is what happens now! Salak - Thanks for your review! I enjoy reading them! And I have a favor to ask of you. Please continue dancing your Write Faster Dance. My muse is being fickle about the next chapter so - keep dancing. I know you can do it!