AJ Matthews - Legolas isn't going to say it all yet. Other things are
happening.
JastaElf – Yes. Juxtaposition is a great word. But there will be only angst here I am afraid. Interrupted angst, but no sweetness. * sigh * Unfortunately my computer woes are not over. Didn't you hear me screaming?!! But I think I have found a way around them for the time being. So I can't blame this chapter on the computer. I will have to go and read Soledad's stories. * puts it on her list of things to do *
Ayod Botla – I'll send you a red hanky, nin mell.
Salak – It must be nice to want to hug your computer, because all I want to do it throw mine out the window! Maybe you'd better do a computer dance before I do throw it out!
Nancing Elf - Legolas still doesn't unload it all. Major writers block or something! You may get introspective any time you wish. I myself have been on both sides of the grief issue. And neither side is easy to deal with. Got the Aragorn side this past weekend so maybe that is part of my problem. As for explanations and revelations…that is probably the next chapter. I hope! At least I know what some explanations and revelations are going to be. Didn't there for a while and that was scary.
Rings of the cosmos – It is very good of you to keep reviewing me! Thanks, nin mell!
Ranger – Sorry. One more chapter of angst. Then hopefully we'll move on to better things. I really like Aragorn, too. He is a very compelling character and has a lot of depth that sometimes get ignored. I know you like him – hence the name "Ranger". Very cool!! Just like Aragorn.
Evyllen – I know that last one was an abrupt change, but I did warn you. I said there were clouds on the horizon. Only warning you got. I don't want Elu to be sad any more either and I am working on it. I felt sorry for Aragorn, too. Been on that side of helping someone deal with pain and grief and it is not easy. That happened again this weekend.
Jan – I will certainly send you a red hanky. I am certain that Elrond has a ton of them. Though perhaps you won't need it for this chapter. I am so glad that you like my original characters. They are fun to write! And as always I love to write Bilbo. My in-laws bought me a great walking stick and my first thought was "Perfect! Now I can look like Bilbo!" How stupid am I!
Horus – Sweet and sad. That's me. And yes, as you know, this is just friendship!
Karina – I'm glad that you caught up, but now you will see how slowly I write at times! I apologize for that. Thank you for all the reviews! That was very nice of you to do that. Your reviews made me smile! Thanks for that, too!! Also thank you for commenting on my sense of humor. Sometimes I wonder about it!
Thoughts in : :
The Elf sat stiffly in the chair his slim fingers white as he grasped the arms. His green eyes glittered angrily beneath the black brows. The room he sat in was pleasant enough with tall windows opening on a spectacular vista of the waterfall. The trees on the cliffs displayed their finest colors of autumn: crimson, gold, orange, and copper. But the Elf saw none of it. He seldom saw beauty in anything any more. That part of him had died with his family.
: No! : He ground his teeth, feverishly checking the walls he had built about his grief to make certain they were sturdy with no gaps that might allow that pain to escape. No pain – no joy – only anger was allowed to burn in him. And there were many things to fuel his anger this morning.
How long was Lord Elrond going to keep him waiting?
Of course he knew why he was here. Elrond knew of everything that transpired in his realm and he knew that Nirnaeth had offended the Prince of Mirkwood and his Orc.
: I care not if I have. : He thought viciously, his eyes narrowing. : How could Lord Elrond allow such a vile and unnatural beast into Imladris? :
Orcs – the antithesis of the Elves, and therefore of all that was good – should never have been allowed near the borders let alone invited by its Lord to enter. And why did those Mirkwood Elves have it in the first place? The mere fact that they allowed its presence would have proved that they were infected with some sort of illness. But to have accepted it as a warrior! The fire of anger in his soul leapt against the outrage. And they had dared to suggest – Lord Elrond and that foster son of his - that he speak to the Prince of Mirkwood because Orcs had once captured him.
Nirnaeth snorted and shook his head with disgust. What help could this Prince offer? He had obviously been twisted by his torment else how could he claim to be friends with that monster. Unbidden the image of his own son came to his mind: Jessolothrad seated in the garden, the moonlight playing on his hair, the Dwarf harp in his hand its music filling the air with sweet sound. He had looked so beautiful and happy. So innocent.
And there with him was the Orc. Singing – if that word could be applied to what the beast was doing.
Nirnaeth's first emotions had been fear and horror. His breath had caught in his throat, his heart nearly stopping as he had stared immobilized into the garden.
"No! Jess! Not Jess. Not my Jessolothrad, too. Please Elbereth! Not Jessolothrad!"
The boy was all he had left in this world and Nirnaeth would not want to live if he died. He had become his father's only reason for living.
He had stormed into the garden wishing he had a weapon so he could end any threat that this Orc might pose to his son. He could see Jessolothrad had been startled by his appearance in the garden, but then he had gazed up at his father, his beautiful face lit with a smile and such affection and delight that Nirnaeth had nearly relented. But then he saw the child's eyes shift to his new acquaintance and the older Elf's heart had nearly stopped. He glared at the Orc letting all the hatred and anger and sorrow that he harbored fill his green eyes as he stared at the beast. He had pulled Jessolothrad to his feet, ready to drag him away – all the way to Lorien if necessary to take him far from this garden, which was no longer, a place of peace and content contemplation.
"You will not harm him."
The Orc dared to speak to him. In Sindarin. It was too much of an outrage to ignore. For the monster to speak the language that his son no longer could, the language of the Elves.
"Harm? You dare to speak to me of harm?! Look at the harm that your kind inflicted upon him, ulunn!"
Nirnaeth's nostril's flared at the memory, his fingers digging even more tightly into the smooth wood. At that moment the door opened and Elrond and Erestor entered.
"Maer aur, Nirnaeth." [Good morning] Elrond greeted him, gesturing for him to remain seated.
Nirnaeth mumbled a greeting in return, his eyes shifting away as he struggled to keep his anger in check. He truly did not want to offend Lord Elrond.
Erestor raised a slim eyebrow as he seated himself slightly behind Elrond.
Elrond suppressed a sigh as he settled in his chair.
"I trust that Jessolothrad is well this bright morning."
"Yes. Thank you for asking." : How can you speak to me about him when you allow that Orc to stay here, my lord? : he thought bitterly.
Elrond swallowed another sigh and motioned for Erestor to pour some tea.
"I believe that Jessolothrad has agreed to play for us tomorrow night. We are all looking forward to it. I have seldom heard the harp played as beautifully. He is truly a wonderful addition to Rivendell."
Nirnaeth bit back the sarcastic remark that rose to his tongue, but merely inclined his dark head. He ignored the tea set before him, his eyes on the table.
"Arwen made the tea for us." Elrond prompted quietly, sipping his own. "It is quite good."
Nirnaeth reluctantly reached for the delicate cup, feeling its smooth warmth fill his hand. He raised it to his lips and allowed the fragrant liquid to fill his mouth.
"It is quite good." He said, setting the cup down before him.
"I will tell her you enjoyed it." This time Elrond did sigh. This was going to be no easy task. "Have you spoken to Prince Legolas yet?" He said abruptly.
Nirnaeth looked up, his eyes unreadable.
"No. And I do not intend to."
"Why not? He has been through a similar experience. It would do you well to speak to him."
"I will not speak with him. I have nothing to say to him and he has nothing to say that I wish to hear."
: And therein lays your problem, Nirnaeth. : Elrond thought impatiently. He had spoken – nay, tried to speak – to Nirnaeth many times, but the Elf simply did not want help, not from anyone. It was going to be a very long morning.
:It is going to be a very long morning. : Aragorn thought with a sigh, passing his hand through his hair.
Things hadn't started out badly as Legolas related what had happened at the palace the night of the attack and Aragorn hoped that his outpouring of grief had maybe eased the pain somewhat and that things could perhaps flow more smoothly now. But, alas for the Ranger, things seemed to have come to a halt. He had watched earlier as Legolas had reached up to wrap his fingers about his left arm, as though remembering an old wound. But now that hand strayed to his chest and his eyes looked bleak.
"Were you wounded, Legolas?" He asked.
The blue eyes slid slowly toward him.
"I – yes. I – After I sent the others back to Gladaran Thamas – " The eyes darted away, the fingers tightening on his tunic.
Morn Gothfeng na caniad an le agar. [Black Arrow is calling for your blood.]
Legolas swallowed. He remembered the feel of the smooth wood beneath his fingers as he had grasped the blood stained arrow that protruded from his chest. The same smooth wood that he had held as he had knelt by the Elu's bed, smooth but for the single carved name on the shaft.
Had he been wounded? Oh, yes, he had. The arrow may not have pierced his heart, but the pain of betrayal had.
"What happened after you sent the others back?" Aragorn prompted.
Legolas drew a deep breath and exhaled shakily.
"He…He came then." He had been waiting in the shadow of the trees, waiting and watching as Brethil and the others died. Waiting for the moment when Morn Gothfeng could fly.
"Met govad ad. [We meet again.] Le alcar ped. [You don't speak.] Aren't you going to defend yourself against me, nin mellon?"
"I will not kill a friend."
"But I would. Namarie, Legolas Elvellon."
"He shot me, Aragorn. He shot me with the Black Arrow and he still has it."
The rush of words caught the man off guard.
"What? The black arrow? Legolas what are you talking about?"
"Don't you remember the notes I showed you? The arrow?"
The Ranger's brows furrowed. He knew that this was very important. Legolas needed him to remember. There was something…That night when he had come to Legolas' room and the Elf had called out in terror from a nightmare. Then he paled. Oh, yes, he remembered.
"Oh, Legolas." He grasped the other's hand in his own. "I didn't know. What happened?" The only times that he had met the Orc; he had been very kind and concerned for Legolas safety and well being. It was hard to comprehend that the change had been so drastic. But then years imprisoned in Dol Guldur, the Sorcerer's tower, would break anyone.
The words poured forth from the Elf, all the pain and the fear, the anger and disbelief, all the horror of that night in the early summer. The Ranger watched his friend intently, seeing the emotion shining in the blue eyes. As he spoke switching from Westron to Sindarin as the words built up speed and intensity, Aragorn could do nothing but listen in silence.
Legolas captured by Elu – or Egla Ash as he had been named then – taken to join the others who had been captured at Beleg Doron, including the very young Lindir. They had headed south following much the same route that he and Aragorn had taken when trying to rescue Elu from the Orcs that had taken him from beneath the very same oak tree many years before. Aragorn was stunned by the cruelty that the Orc had exhibited, remembering how gentle he had been after they had rescued Legolas from Emyn Mor Esgal. He listened in horror as the Elf related how he had nearly escaped, only to be felled once again by the Black Arrow.
Legolas had paused his eyes wide, fear making them unusually bright.
"Aragorn, he still has the arrow. He has it!" He repeated.
The man gently touched Legolas' arm, studying him intently.
"Are you certain that it is the same arrow? He is an archer and I am certain that he has made many."
"It is the same one. I know it. It has my name carved into it. It is still stained with my blood."
Aragorn frowned. Could it be possible? He stared at his friend and knew that he believed that it was the arrow. The man shook his head.
"I think that we should speak to Elu about this?"
"No, Aragorn! We cannot!"
Aragorn was about to argue this point, he felt that the two needed to confront whatever it was that lay between them when a quiet voice startled them both.
"What should you speak to me about, Dunadan?"
Legolas' head whipped around and he found himself staring at the Orc.
"Elu!"
"Is something wrong, Legolas Elvellon?" He moved into the garden, worry furrowing his brow. He looked at his friend and touched the pale face. "What has happened?"
Legolas stood hastily, shrinking away from that touch, the red handkerchief dropping to the grass.
"Nothing. We – we were just going."
Elu bent and retrieved the silk cloth noting with dismay how damp it felt.
"What is it, Legolas Elvellon? Please tell me."
Legolas' eyes went from the Orc to the Ranger, then he dropped his gaze to the ground.
"It is nothing, Elu. Truly. How – how is Jessolothrad?"
But Aragorn shook his head, taking hold of the Elf's arm to prevent him from fleeing.
"Elu, why do you still have the Black Arrow?" He asked bluntly, staring into the Orc's blue eyes.
"The Black Arrow, Dunadan?" A guilty look crossed his face. "I – I don't know what you mean."
The Ranger shook his head in disgust, both with the Orc and with the Elf. They both were so stubborn and evasive, too much alike in this that he wanted to throw up his hands in disgust and leave them. But he curbed his impatience determined to see this through now.
"Are you saying that you don't have the Black Arrow in the pack under your bed? Because Legolas seems to think that you do."
Elu's head darted toward his friend, who would not meet his eyes.
"Legolas Elvellon? How do you know this?"
The Elf slowly raised his head to meet the Orcs eyes.
"I found it." He answered reluctantly, his own guilt surging. "Why, Elu?" He asked finally. "Why did you keep it? What are you going to do with it?"
The Orc looked from one to the other, his face troubled. Then he shrugged.
But before he could speak they heard running feet and a voice calling.
"Mr. Strider! Come quickly, sir!" The small Hobbit ran into the garden, his eyes wide with fear. "Oh, Mr. Elu! Lord Elrond wants you as well. It is Mr. Frodo. He is failing. You must come quickly! Please don't let him die, sir. Please!"
Aragorn let go of Legolas' arm and nodded.
"We are coming, Sam. I will speak with you later, Legolas. Come Elu. Frodo needs us." The man hurried from the garden, following the very worried looking Sam.
Elu stood gazing at Legolas, who quickly turned his eyes away. Finally the Orc turned and left the garden, his heart aching, the red handkerchief crushed in one hand.
Legolas' shoulders slumped, as he stood alone in the garden. He sank once more onto the bench, burying his face in his hands. He knew that Elu was hurt by what had transpired and he had wanted to save the Orc any more sorrow. Would they ever be able to get past all this hurt?
"Where is your Orc, Prince Legolas?"
Mirkwood's prince started and turned toward the speaker. It was Nirnaeth. His dislike of the Elf grew as he stared into the malicious green eyes.
: He is hurting. : He reminded himself. : As much as I am – or more. I will try and be kind to him. :
"He went with Aragorn to see Lord Elrond." He answered, rising, wondering where his handkerchief was.
"Yes. He seems to have worked his evil on our Lord of Imladris as well as on you and your kind."
"Elu is not evil. How could you say such a thing!"
Nirnaeth raised an eyebrow.
"Then why does he carry the Black Arrow?"
Legolas stared at him. How much had he heard?
"You know nothing about that." He answered, moving to brush past the Elf that stood in the garden's entrance.
Nirnaeth grabbed his sleeve.
"Mayhap it is you who know nothing." He said quietly. Then he released Legolas' arm and turned away, moving down the path.
JastaElf – Yes. Juxtaposition is a great word. But there will be only angst here I am afraid. Interrupted angst, but no sweetness. * sigh * Unfortunately my computer woes are not over. Didn't you hear me screaming?!! But I think I have found a way around them for the time being. So I can't blame this chapter on the computer. I will have to go and read Soledad's stories. * puts it on her list of things to do *
Ayod Botla – I'll send you a red hanky, nin mell.
Salak – It must be nice to want to hug your computer, because all I want to do it throw mine out the window! Maybe you'd better do a computer dance before I do throw it out!
Nancing Elf - Legolas still doesn't unload it all. Major writers block or something! You may get introspective any time you wish. I myself have been on both sides of the grief issue. And neither side is easy to deal with. Got the Aragorn side this past weekend so maybe that is part of my problem. As for explanations and revelations…that is probably the next chapter. I hope! At least I know what some explanations and revelations are going to be. Didn't there for a while and that was scary.
Rings of the cosmos – It is very good of you to keep reviewing me! Thanks, nin mell!
Ranger – Sorry. One more chapter of angst. Then hopefully we'll move on to better things. I really like Aragorn, too. He is a very compelling character and has a lot of depth that sometimes get ignored. I know you like him – hence the name "Ranger". Very cool!! Just like Aragorn.
Evyllen – I know that last one was an abrupt change, but I did warn you. I said there were clouds on the horizon. Only warning you got. I don't want Elu to be sad any more either and I am working on it. I felt sorry for Aragorn, too. Been on that side of helping someone deal with pain and grief and it is not easy. That happened again this weekend.
Jan – I will certainly send you a red hanky. I am certain that Elrond has a ton of them. Though perhaps you won't need it for this chapter. I am so glad that you like my original characters. They are fun to write! And as always I love to write Bilbo. My in-laws bought me a great walking stick and my first thought was "Perfect! Now I can look like Bilbo!" How stupid am I!
Horus – Sweet and sad. That's me. And yes, as you know, this is just friendship!
Karina – I'm glad that you caught up, but now you will see how slowly I write at times! I apologize for that. Thank you for all the reviews! That was very nice of you to do that. Your reviews made me smile! Thanks for that, too!! Also thank you for commenting on my sense of humor. Sometimes I wonder about it!
Thoughts in : :
The Elf sat stiffly in the chair his slim fingers white as he grasped the arms. His green eyes glittered angrily beneath the black brows. The room he sat in was pleasant enough with tall windows opening on a spectacular vista of the waterfall. The trees on the cliffs displayed their finest colors of autumn: crimson, gold, orange, and copper. But the Elf saw none of it. He seldom saw beauty in anything any more. That part of him had died with his family.
: No! : He ground his teeth, feverishly checking the walls he had built about his grief to make certain they were sturdy with no gaps that might allow that pain to escape. No pain – no joy – only anger was allowed to burn in him. And there were many things to fuel his anger this morning.
How long was Lord Elrond going to keep him waiting?
Of course he knew why he was here. Elrond knew of everything that transpired in his realm and he knew that Nirnaeth had offended the Prince of Mirkwood and his Orc.
: I care not if I have. : He thought viciously, his eyes narrowing. : How could Lord Elrond allow such a vile and unnatural beast into Imladris? :
Orcs – the antithesis of the Elves, and therefore of all that was good – should never have been allowed near the borders let alone invited by its Lord to enter. And why did those Mirkwood Elves have it in the first place? The mere fact that they allowed its presence would have proved that they were infected with some sort of illness. But to have accepted it as a warrior! The fire of anger in his soul leapt against the outrage. And they had dared to suggest – Lord Elrond and that foster son of his - that he speak to the Prince of Mirkwood because Orcs had once captured him.
Nirnaeth snorted and shook his head with disgust. What help could this Prince offer? He had obviously been twisted by his torment else how could he claim to be friends with that monster. Unbidden the image of his own son came to his mind: Jessolothrad seated in the garden, the moonlight playing on his hair, the Dwarf harp in his hand its music filling the air with sweet sound. He had looked so beautiful and happy. So innocent.
And there with him was the Orc. Singing – if that word could be applied to what the beast was doing.
Nirnaeth's first emotions had been fear and horror. His breath had caught in his throat, his heart nearly stopping as he had stared immobilized into the garden.
"No! Jess! Not Jess. Not my Jessolothrad, too. Please Elbereth! Not Jessolothrad!"
The boy was all he had left in this world and Nirnaeth would not want to live if he died. He had become his father's only reason for living.
He had stormed into the garden wishing he had a weapon so he could end any threat that this Orc might pose to his son. He could see Jessolothrad had been startled by his appearance in the garden, but then he had gazed up at his father, his beautiful face lit with a smile and such affection and delight that Nirnaeth had nearly relented. But then he saw the child's eyes shift to his new acquaintance and the older Elf's heart had nearly stopped. He glared at the Orc letting all the hatred and anger and sorrow that he harbored fill his green eyes as he stared at the beast. He had pulled Jessolothrad to his feet, ready to drag him away – all the way to Lorien if necessary to take him far from this garden, which was no longer, a place of peace and content contemplation.
"You will not harm him."
The Orc dared to speak to him. In Sindarin. It was too much of an outrage to ignore. For the monster to speak the language that his son no longer could, the language of the Elves.
"Harm? You dare to speak to me of harm?! Look at the harm that your kind inflicted upon him, ulunn!"
Nirnaeth's nostril's flared at the memory, his fingers digging even more tightly into the smooth wood. At that moment the door opened and Elrond and Erestor entered.
"Maer aur, Nirnaeth." [Good morning] Elrond greeted him, gesturing for him to remain seated.
Nirnaeth mumbled a greeting in return, his eyes shifting away as he struggled to keep his anger in check. He truly did not want to offend Lord Elrond.
Erestor raised a slim eyebrow as he seated himself slightly behind Elrond.
Elrond suppressed a sigh as he settled in his chair.
"I trust that Jessolothrad is well this bright morning."
"Yes. Thank you for asking." : How can you speak to me about him when you allow that Orc to stay here, my lord? : he thought bitterly.
Elrond swallowed another sigh and motioned for Erestor to pour some tea.
"I believe that Jessolothrad has agreed to play for us tomorrow night. We are all looking forward to it. I have seldom heard the harp played as beautifully. He is truly a wonderful addition to Rivendell."
Nirnaeth bit back the sarcastic remark that rose to his tongue, but merely inclined his dark head. He ignored the tea set before him, his eyes on the table.
"Arwen made the tea for us." Elrond prompted quietly, sipping his own. "It is quite good."
Nirnaeth reluctantly reached for the delicate cup, feeling its smooth warmth fill his hand. He raised it to his lips and allowed the fragrant liquid to fill his mouth.
"It is quite good." He said, setting the cup down before him.
"I will tell her you enjoyed it." This time Elrond did sigh. This was going to be no easy task. "Have you spoken to Prince Legolas yet?" He said abruptly.
Nirnaeth looked up, his eyes unreadable.
"No. And I do not intend to."
"Why not? He has been through a similar experience. It would do you well to speak to him."
"I will not speak with him. I have nothing to say to him and he has nothing to say that I wish to hear."
: And therein lays your problem, Nirnaeth. : Elrond thought impatiently. He had spoken – nay, tried to speak – to Nirnaeth many times, but the Elf simply did not want help, not from anyone. It was going to be a very long morning.
:It is going to be a very long morning. : Aragorn thought with a sigh, passing his hand through his hair.
Things hadn't started out badly as Legolas related what had happened at the palace the night of the attack and Aragorn hoped that his outpouring of grief had maybe eased the pain somewhat and that things could perhaps flow more smoothly now. But, alas for the Ranger, things seemed to have come to a halt. He had watched earlier as Legolas had reached up to wrap his fingers about his left arm, as though remembering an old wound. But now that hand strayed to his chest and his eyes looked bleak.
"Were you wounded, Legolas?" He asked.
The blue eyes slid slowly toward him.
"I – yes. I – After I sent the others back to Gladaran Thamas – " The eyes darted away, the fingers tightening on his tunic.
Morn Gothfeng na caniad an le agar. [Black Arrow is calling for your blood.]
Legolas swallowed. He remembered the feel of the smooth wood beneath his fingers as he had grasped the blood stained arrow that protruded from his chest. The same smooth wood that he had held as he had knelt by the Elu's bed, smooth but for the single carved name on the shaft.
Had he been wounded? Oh, yes, he had. The arrow may not have pierced his heart, but the pain of betrayal had.
"What happened after you sent the others back?" Aragorn prompted.
Legolas drew a deep breath and exhaled shakily.
"He…He came then." He had been waiting in the shadow of the trees, waiting and watching as Brethil and the others died. Waiting for the moment when Morn Gothfeng could fly.
"Met govad ad. [We meet again.] Le alcar ped. [You don't speak.] Aren't you going to defend yourself against me, nin mellon?"
"I will not kill a friend."
"But I would. Namarie, Legolas Elvellon."
"He shot me, Aragorn. He shot me with the Black Arrow and he still has it."
The rush of words caught the man off guard.
"What? The black arrow? Legolas what are you talking about?"
"Don't you remember the notes I showed you? The arrow?"
The Ranger's brows furrowed. He knew that this was very important. Legolas needed him to remember. There was something…That night when he had come to Legolas' room and the Elf had called out in terror from a nightmare. Then he paled. Oh, yes, he remembered.
"Oh, Legolas." He grasped the other's hand in his own. "I didn't know. What happened?" The only times that he had met the Orc; he had been very kind and concerned for Legolas safety and well being. It was hard to comprehend that the change had been so drastic. But then years imprisoned in Dol Guldur, the Sorcerer's tower, would break anyone.
The words poured forth from the Elf, all the pain and the fear, the anger and disbelief, all the horror of that night in the early summer. The Ranger watched his friend intently, seeing the emotion shining in the blue eyes. As he spoke switching from Westron to Sindarin as the words built up speed and intensity, Aragorn could do nothing but listen in silence.
Legolas captured by Elu – or Egla Ash as he had been named then – taken to join the others who had been captured at Beleg Doron, including the very young Lindir. They had headed south following much the same route that he and Aragorn had taken when trying to rescue Elu from the Orcs that had taken him from beneath the very same oak tree many years before. Aragorn was stunned by the cruelty that the Orc had exhibited, remembering how gentle he had been after they had rescued Legolas from Emyn Mor Esgal. He listened in horror as the Elf related how he had nearly escaped, only to be felled once again by the Black Arrow.
Legolas had paused his eyes wide, fear making them unusually bright.
"Aragorn, he still has the arrow. He has it!" He repeated.
The man gently touched Legolas' arm, studying him intently.
"Are you certain that it is the same arrow? He is an archer and I am certain that he has made many."
"It is the same one. I know it. It has my name carved into it. It is still stained with my blood."
Aragorn frowned. Could it be possible? He stared at his friend and knew that he believed that it was the arrow. The man shook his head.
"I think that we should speak to Elu about this?"
"No, Aragorn! We cannot!"
Aragorn was about to argue this point, he felt that the two needed to confront whatever it was that lay between them when a quiet voice startled them both.
"What should you speak to me about, Dunadan?"
Legolas' head whipped around and he found himself staring at the Orc.
"Elu!"
"Is something wrong, Legolas Elvellon?" He moved into the garden, worry furrowing his brow. He looked at his friend and touched the pale face. "What has happened?"
Legolas stood hastily, shrinking away from that touch, the red handkerchief dropping to the grass.
"Nothing. We – we were just going."
Elu bent and retrieved the silk cloth noting with dismay how damp it felt.
"What is it, Legolas Elvellon? Please tell me."
Legolas' eyes went from the Orc to the Ranger, then he dropped his gaze to the ground.
"It is nothing, Elu. Truly. How – how is Jessolothrad?"
But Aragorn shook his head, taking hold of the Elf's arm to prevent him from fleeing.
"Elu, why do you still have the Black Arrow?" He asked bluntly, staring into the Orc's blue eyes.
"The Black Arrow, Dunadan?" A guilty look crossed his face. "I – I don't know what you mean."
The Ranger shook his head in disgust, both with the Orc and with the Elf. They both were so stubborn and evasive, too much alike in this that he wanted to throw up his hands in disgust and leave them. But he curbed his impatience determined to see this through now.
"Are you saying that you don't have the Black Arrow in the pack under your bed? Because Legolas seems to think that you do."
Elu's head darted toward his friend, who would not meet his eyes.
"Legolas Elvellon? How do you know this?"
The Elf slowly raised his head to meet the Orcs eyes.
"I found it." He answered reluctantly, his own guilt surging. "Why, Elu?" He asked finally. "Why did you keep it? What are you going to do with it?"
The Orc looked from one to the other, his face troubled. Then he shrugged.
But before he could speak they heard running feet and a voice calling.
"Mr. Strider! Come quickly, sir!" The small Hobbit ran into the garden, his eyes wide with fear. "Oh, Mr. Elu! Lord Elrond wants you as well. It is Mr. Frodo. He is failing. You must come quickly! Please don't let him die, sir. Please!"
Aragorn let go of Legolas' arm and nodded.
"We are coming, Sam. I will speak with you later, Legolas. Come Elu. Frodo needs us." The man hurried from the garden, following the very worried looking Sam.
Elu stood gazing at Legolas, who quickly turned his eyes away. Finally the Orc turned and left the garden, his heart aching, the red handkerchief crushed in one hand.
Legolas' shoulders slumped, as he stood alone in the garden. He sank once more onto the bench, burying his face in his hands. He knew that Elu was hurt by what had transpired and he had wanted to save the Orc any more sorrow. Would they ever be able to get past all this hurt?
"Where is your Orc, Prince Legolas?"
Mirkwood's prince started and turned toward the speaker. It was Nirnaeth. His dislike of the Elf grew as he stared into the malicious green eyes.
: He is hurting. : He reminded himself. : As much as I am – or more. I will try and be kind to him. :
"He went with Aragorn to see Lord Elrond." He answered, rising, wondering where his handkerchief was.
"Yes. He seems to have worked his evil on our Lord of Imladris as well as on you and your kind."
"Elu is not evil. How could you say such a thing!"
Nirnaeth raised an eyebrow.
"Then why does he carry the Black Arrow?"
Legolas stared at him. How much had he heard?
"You know nothing about that." He answered, moving to brush past the Elf that stood in the garden's entrance.
Nirnaeth grabbed his sleeve.
"Mayhap it is you who know nothing." He said quietly. Then he released Legolas' arm and turned away, moving down the path.