A/N - I'm so sorry this chapter has been long in coming. It was kind of hard to write, you'll see why. Um, rest of note at the bottom.

Chapter Ten, Darker.

From further tentative explorations into the passageway, it had become clear that the cavern ahead contained four Orc sentinels. The floor dropped away in the centre of the cave and a great bridge had been built across it, with stairs leading downwards at either side. It was impossible to see what lay below.

Two Orcs guarded one side of the bridge, facing into the cavern, and the two further guards faced away on the opposite side. They rotated positions at half of every hour.

In the small cave in which they were trapped, four elves discussed battle plans.

The creatures should be at slumber in these hours, when the sun is high. Elrohir said, But the sounds we hear from below suggest some work is underway. We must be careful those below do not see us until we are upon them. We do not know how many we will face.

Legolas smiled, death stalked in his eyes, and an appetite for battle long suppressed was writ across his features. Had they a million horde, I would not turn from this. He said. We three have killed more of their race than they could count. We shall but add to the tally.

And I? Aewen asked, aware of her exclusion from his words.

You shall remain here. Legolas stated simply. When it is done, I will come for you.

You will find an empty cave, then. she said, For I would not remain here, blind and powerless while you fought, if you were to bind me to the rocks.

You do not understand the danger, you have no experience of this... Elladan began.

I understand full well what you go off so gaily to face. Aewen said. Indeed I believe I find the situation more grave than you do. I have not your battle-lust. But I will not be swayed from this. I can wield a blade if I need to, but I cannot remain here, unknowing.

Legolas drew breath to name her foolish and naive, but Elrohir stayed his words.

We speak only out of love for you. he said, perhaps our concern makes our words too hasty.

If you have an eye to my safety, Uncle, then would it not be better to keep me in sight? Alone here, who knows what might befall me. Were Orcs to take this cave while you fought, you would be beyond my cries.

Legolas sighed and glanced between the two Lords before he turned to her. You play merrily with our fears, lady. He said, drawing a short blade from his belt and placing it into her hands. This will you use at first, and later if any of the creatures get too close. Your sword will be your main ally, keep your foes at its length when you can. Defend only, do not attempt to attack, and keep within our sight.

Yes, my Captain. Aewen retorted, but she was moved by their concerns.

In this, Legolas said softly, I am indeed your captain. See that you keep rank. And we must only hope that you show less mercy to the Orcs than to our supper.

When the first two Orcs finally knew of the attack, they were unable to tell of it, for the short blades of Aewen and Elrohir cut deep into their throats. In the same moment, two arrows met their targets across the cavern, and the other guards fell silently to the ground.

All was well so far, but the true test was yet begun.

Elladan it was who ventured to look down into the cavern and see what business the Orcs were about. Careful to remain unseen, he made his way to the bridge, and gazed downward. It was a sight most unexpected and shocking to him, who had seen much in his long years.

The sound we hear, of metal upon stone, is the work of men, not orcs. He whispered, when he returned to the others, Men in slavery. There may be elves, also. Some twenty of them, they hack at the stone with picks and axes. They seem wasted and broken. They are not bound, and only six orcs oversee their toil, but there are many more asleep. I could not count their number in the blackness He shook his head, I did not think to see such things in a time of peace.

What do they toil for? Elrohir asked his brother.

They rip the jewels from the rocks. I do not know why the Orcs should suddenly desire things of beauty, but there are caskets of the precious stones everywhere. Elladan said, I believe there is a large stone door to our left, it is shut, but a faint light shines through. It may be our way out.

Then the plan changes. said Legolas, grimly, Elladan, you and I will drive back the goblins. Elrohir, Aewen, you have care of the mortal souls. Do all that you can to see them safely out of this foul prison. His eyes fell momentarily upon Elrohir, and a thought passed between the two. The dark haired elf nodded imperceptibly, knowing Legolas valued one immortal soul above all others, and care of her fell to him, now more than ever.

The plan was debated a few minutes more, and then the elves moved carefully along the bridge. Legolas took Aewen's hand, and she looked down at it, the pale skin already blackened with Orc blood. Then her gaze met his, just for a moment before, at a silent signal from Elladan, all four stepped from the bridge and dropped to the ground below.

The element of surprise was of great initial benefit, as the hastily roused orcs, at least thirty in number, believed themselves to be under a much greater attack, and retreated in their confusion. When the truth was learnt, however, they threw themselves back into battle, with great, jagged swords and vicious arrows.

Legolas and Elladan faced the onslaught with the skill and power of the great elven lords of the past. The wrath of Fingolfin as he challenged Morgoth to single combat, the determination of Ecthelion as he fought the dark lord's greatest minion, the steadfastness of Gil-Galad, leading the alliance even to his death, all of this was mirrored in the faces of these two elves, their own battle perhaps less historic, but no less mighty.

The captives, among whom were indeed numbered both men and elves, at first thought themselves to be under attack, as Elrohir ran toward them, blade drawn. It saddened him to see that terror was in their eyes, yet they had not the strength to mount any resistance and only cowered before him, accepting their fate. Perhaps death would be welcome, after this dark existence.

They none of them would meet their death that day. A great shaft of light fell across their faces as Aewen succeeded in releasing the heavy stone door. Blinking and shielding their eyes against the daylight they had rarely glimpsed in many years of slavery, the tattered shadows of men and elves allowed themselves to be shepherded outside, where the air was fresh and clean, and the faint sound of running water could be heard. Many of them collapsed against a stone outcrop not ten feet from the cavern's entrance, and still more stood like statues, not knowing what to do.

On his knees in the grass, a man cried, and he did not know if his tears were shed for joy or pain.

Back in the darkness, a bloody battle still raged. The bodies of the elves tired, though their will did not, and the depleted orc force began to take control, forcing the bloodied warriors to give ground.

Attacking aside, it was all the two elves could do to defend themselves, and one black arrow sent toward Legolas would have found it's target, had the swift fingers of another not closed around it's shaft and stayed its course but a instant before it pierced him.

Elrohir was come to join them. With another sword allied to their cause, spirits were lifted, and their blades once again cut deep into orc flesh, the twin Lords anticipating the other's every move, their combined attack was as a great four armed beast, able to spread and fight in two places at once, yet always aware of it's other half. The archer of Mirkwood had fought alongside these warriors before, yet even to him their symmetry of thought and movement was a wonder to behold.

Beside the great door, Aewen waited, sword drawn. It was all she could do to prevent herself from following her uncle back into the darkness, from the depths of which came sounds of metal against metal, and the song of many arrows in flight, but she knew well enough that she had not the experience to be of use in such an offence, and wished not that the three who fought would let themselves be harmed in defending her.

Still, the darkness drew her, and she moved a little way inside, squinting as her eyes adjusted, yet she could make little out.

She turned, glancing back at the light, her head full of conflict.

An arm slid around her waist, catching her by surprise, as her sword arm was gripped and the weapon forced from her hand. It fell, sounding a deep metallic note as it hit the rock, from where it was retrieved by a murky skinned orc, companion to the one who held her.

Well here's a pretty prize, my dear. A thick voice whispered in her ear. What think you, Negrut, should we keep it for ourselves, or see if the three princelings would care to see it bleed?

The orc called Negrut was busy examining its own prize, Hadhafang.

It dared not touch the elvish blade, for fear of curses or worse, so he held it by the hilt, the blade pointed toward him, as he tried to read the inscription. Curse this flowery elvish script, he hissed, It is unreadable!

It is called Throng-Cleaver. Aewen said, in the common tongue. As Negrut looked up, she kicked out and drove the blade deep into his putrid flesh, his own hands still clinging to its hilt. It was my mother's sword.

The grip around her waist tightened, but her captor had left her one free arm, and therein lay his mistake. He had come too close, and for that very purpose Legolas had given her a short blade. She reached for it now and drove it back into the orc's bulk. With a cry the creature released it's grip and stepped backward. Aewen moved to draw her sword from the body of it's companion, but there was no need, another blade struck from behind, and the orc fell, its head severed from its body.

Aewen cried, and indeed he was almost unrecognisable as such, the gold of his hair slick and black with blood, his face torn and thick with the grime of battle. Yet he wore a smile that suggested the fight was won.

The orcs are driven back into a far passageway. Only a few of their number remain, and we will finish them with fire. He caught her wrist, What happened here? I had thought that you waited outside.

It is of no importance. Aewen said, I was foolish and am lucky not to have paid a high price for it.

We are all lucky for that grace. Legolas said sternly, but the light returned to his eyes as they were joined by Elrohir, who ran for the door.

Come Legolas, Aewen! We must see about a fire to roast these creatures where they hide. He grinned, and called back into the cave, Come Elladan, unless you too would burn!

An answering cry came from further in the cavern, and, satisfied that his brother followed, Elrohir set about making a fire. Before Elladan finally appeared at the mouth of the cave, both Elrohir and Legolas were advancing upon it with burning branches.

Elrond's son, eldest of the two by all of ten minutes, carried a burden as he came into sight. It was a moment before the others recognised it as an elf, for its state was pitiful. It lived, but barely. Its hair was black with dirt and had been cropped cruelly short. Clothing hung like rags about it's starved frame, and red scars lined all it's visible flesh. Had they looked closer they would have seen that it's eyes had lost their colour to blackness, and it did not blink in the daylight because it was not aware of it.

Elladan's expression was curious, he moved slowly, though his burden should have been light.

The proud elven lord fell to his knees as he reached the door, his body was wracked with tremors, and, although his lips moved, no sound did he make. The body of the elf he carried tumbled from his arms into the grass and revealed the wet black tips of two arrows piercing Elladan's chest.

Tor nin, im.....

The whisper of his voice broke off, and his eyes closed, for he saw no more. Elladan fell forward then, on top of the body he had carried such a short way at such a great cost, and the black plumes of the Orc arrows danced gently in the breeze.


Notes on this chapter:

I'm so sorry, Puter Patty, for making you like him and then doing.....well, this. It was planned from the start. The story is far from over, though, and I hope you and everyone else will continue with it, I've really enjoyed reading all your thoughts.

Oh, Puter Patty, to answer your question, Touched is an old fashioned term for madness. Touched people often heard voices in their heads.

Hmm, Okay, on to other notes.

Tor nin, im..... - my brother, I.... - Tor is the poetic form of Brother.

Fingolfin was High King of the Noldor in the First Age. When he thought that Morgoth (Saurons boss, if you like, and the original dark lord) had defeated his people, he rode to challenge him to single combat. Morgoth killed him, but Fingolfin hurt Morgoth First.

Ecthelion was a Lord and Captain in the hidden kingdom of Gondolin, equal or higher in rank than Glorfindel. He slew Gothmog, the king of the Balrogs, but Gothmog also slew him in the process.

Gil-Galad was an elven king, of him the harpers sadly sing. You know this one. He died facing Sauron in the Battle of the Last Alliance.