A/N It seems like every time I have posted lately I have had to apologize
for my lateness in updating. Well, I am apologizing yet again. Please
bear with me, my life is bit hectic at the moment. Since it took me so
long to update I decided against my original plan for this chapter which
was to write only about Faramir, Thranduil, Elessar, and Eomer. Instead,
since I left you all at such a cliffhanger in the last chapter I decided to
include more about Legolas and his fate.
Again thank you so much for the reviews. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate them BTW, someone E-mailed me shortly after I posted the last chapter (the E-mail was entitled Out of Darkness) but I accidentally deleted the E-mail. (Believe it or not, I sneezed as I was deleting all the junk E-mail and the mouse jumped and bye-bye.). Anyway, I did not catch the name, but if you E-mailed me and did not get a response I apologize and would ask if you would kindly resend I will respond in kind. Thanks. Enjoy.
Chapter X
The Past Returns
King Thranduil stood on his balcony staring at the starry sky. How beautiful the stars had always seemed to him. Brilliant white jewels set in ebony they glowed with a warmth and fire that could be felt deep within his elven soul. The stars had been a part of this world as long as he had, and their longevity was a comfort to one so old. He felt his age now, but not in the manner of humans who have reached the ends of their lives dwindling away towards the inevitable conclusion. The elves did not suffer the physical affects of aging, as they did not bear the burden of mortality, but they were not immune to the passing of time.
Through all his long years Thranduil had seen the world moving and changing about him. He had been present at the end of the First Age when the sea rose and consumed Beleriand and the very land of Middle-earth was changed. He had witnessed mountains falling and rising, rivers changing their courses, vast forests reduced to small isles of trees. He had witnessed the never-ending cycle of evil rising in power then being defeated by the good peoples of the earth and eventually rising again in a new guise. But now Thranduil who forsook the Undying Lands to remain in his beloved Middle- earth felt for the first time that Middle-earth had passed him by, and that he no longer had a place within it's beautiful lands.
Such was the bane of the elves - to watch the world changing around them, as they themselves remained the same. Even now the elves of Middle-earth mourned for the loss of all that once was, and when the pain and suffering became too great they traveled to the Grey Havens and departed this world forever. But such love did Thranduil have for Middle-earth that he had come to Greenwood the Great and built his kingdom. And within his small kingdom he was able to slow the changing of the world for a short time.
But even as he built this new kingdom the world without was changing rapidly. The elves were leaving Middle-earth and men were increasing. The elves had preserved Middle-earth. They had lived in a symbiotic relationship with all of her wonders and gifts, and worked to co-exist with all things living. But the men and especially the abhorrent dwarves were the parasites of Middle-earth. They were masters of destruction and waste. They disemboweled the mountains and cut down the trees. They slew the great animals that roamed the lands for sport, leaving the bodies to rot upon the earth while they took only the antlers or pelt. They damned the rivers heedless of the effects on the fish and birds. Perhaps this was why Thranduil so often sought the stars for comfort. Illuvatar had placed them out of the reach of man, dwarf or even elf, and so they could not be marred. They remained ever beautiful, ever the same.
Thranduil gripped the railing of the balcony he was standing on. It was now his second night in Minas Mallen, and he had spent both nights on the balcony of his room staring east and north. He did not know why, but he felt certain that his son was in that direction. The impetus to go and search for his youngest son himself was strong, but he knew that as long as these Daequendi, as they were being called here in Ithilien, did not have him then they would not kill Legolas.
Thranduil's room was high up in the main tower of Minas Mallen. From there his sharp elven eyes could see far, and movement at the edge of the forest surrounding Amon Galen caught his attention. A rider was approaching the city. As he emerged from the trees Thranduil could see that is was one of Faramir's Dunedain and he was riding at a full gallop. Turning around the king of Eryn Lasgalen left his rooms and made for the heart of the citadel.
He arrived at the gate to the citadel in time to see the rider coming up the street through the city. The rider approached swiftly, and was soon at the gate. "Hail, Thaldin! I come bearing urgent news. I must speak with Prince Faramir immediately." The Dunadan's voice sounded grave, but then again, mused Thranduil, all Rangers spoke gravely even when it concerned nothing more than the weather or the state of their health.
Thaldin motioned to one of his guards and the man entered the palace at a run. "Hail, Arnoth!" Thaldin called back, "and welcome home." The gate was opened and Arnoth entered. The Ranger dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to a page when he noticed Thranduil standing there. The Dunadan looked even more grim, if that was possible, as he approached the King of the Wood Elves. Thranduil noted with some shock that the man had read his thoughts. "Sire." The man bowed low before him, "I am sorry, but I have heard nothing of the search for Prince Legolas. Though, in truth, I was not among those who are searching for him. My errand was elsewhere." Bowing low again the Ranger turned and entered the citadel.
He had not really expected news yet, but he was certain that something of great import had brought the Dunadan at such speed to seek Faramir in the quiet hours before the dawn. Thranduil followed Arnoth, and soon found himself at the doors into Faramir and Eowyn's apartments. The guards outside opened the door for Arnoth to enter. Thranduil followed, and the guards did not stop him, though both raised eyebrows at his boldness. It was a breach of etiquette to come unannounced into the presence of royalty, but the elf-King was beyond such trivial things now.
Arnoth strode into the rooms and bowed low before Prince Faramir, "My Lord, I have returned out of the East with grave tidings." Faramir paused at the sight of Thranduil behind the Ranger but quickly realized that the King of Eryn Lasgalen would not be persuaded to leave. "What have you learned, Arnoth?"
"As you know I was dispatched to southern Mordor to watch over the Easterlings and their doings. We knew they were amassing a large army of orcs, men, and wargs beneath the southern mountains of the Ephel Duath. Two days ago they were congregating on the fields of Nurn. The men and orcs bore spears, swords, bows and arrows, and other such weapons, and all wore mail and armor. They are preparing to attack, and although when I left they had not yet marched forth, I am almost certain their first target will be Ithilien. But that is not the worst of the news. When I left the orcs were still poring out of their mountain hideaways. I estimated that there were at least ten thousand orcs and men visible when I departed, but there was no way to judge the numbers still hidden beneath the Ephel Duath."
Faramir was not a man to show surprise easily, but even Ithilien's prince could not hide the shock in hearing such news. The numbers of orcs still within the confines of Mordor and its borders had been greatly underestimated. That or they were breeding at an unprecedented rate. Faramir sighed and turned to Arnoth, "We suspected new leadership, but this is far beyond anything we could have predicted. It is as if the Dark Lord himself has returned to summon their strength again."
Arnoth said nothing and Faramir stood silent for some time, but eventually the prince shook his head clearing away whatever thoughts might have been keeping his attention then he turned to the Ranger, "Go, Arnoth, and rouse the Dunedain. Tell them to come to the Great Hall at sunrise."
Arnoth bowed again before his prince and then departed soundlessly. Faramir nodded to Thranduil, "A moment, your highness, I must send word to all those who must attend the war council." The Prince strode to the doors to his apartments and spoke with his guards. After a few moments Faramir closed the door, but he did not turn around. He bowed his head and Thranduil's ears detected a small sigh escape the man's lips.
"You are troubled, young Prince, because this news puts you to a difficult decision," Thranduil said matter-of-factly. Faramir turned to face the Elven King. "Many of your best soldiers are right now searching Ithilien for Gimli and for our sons. Should you call them back, or let them continue the search? Either way, dire consequences could result." Faramir nodded, but allowed the king to continue. "But in truth there is no choice. You are the leader of this country, and you must guide your people as they prepare for war. It is your duty, much though it may pain you. You must call the men back."
Thranduil's gaze strayed to the windows of Faramir's apartment. Dawn had not yet come and the stars still shone brightly. "But you will not bear this burden alone. With your leave, I will fight beside you, along with all the elves I have brought out of Eryn Lasgalen, though 350 is small compared to 10,000."
Faramir was stunned. "No, sire, not if that 350 is of your race." The Prince of Ithilien looked upon Thranduil and felt a kinship with the elf. Both men suffered the agony of not knowing the fates of their one and only child. "Will you also remain with us to fight the enemy out of the east?"
Thranduil's smile was cold and sardonic. "If by that you mean do I intend to refrain from searching for Legolas myself? Then the answer is yes. Though I bear it at great pain, I will not seek my son. My coming to his aid would be as a death warrant if I were captured. Too late were my attempts to rescue the others. The lesson was been learned at great price."
Thranduil looked tired and worn, almost human. Faramir felt a great pity for him, but kept this to himself knowing it would only anger the Elven King. "I will not abandon the search completely. Four of my Rangers will continue the hunt for Legolas, Boromir, and the others. They may yet return safely to us."
For the first time since he had arrived a genuine smile crept across Thranduil's lips, "And when they do they will have their fathers to deal with. It might be better for them if they stay to fight the Daequendi." Faramir grinned back. "Yes, you are undoubtedly correct. However, I believe Boromir has it much worse than Legolas for when I have finished with him he will then be handed over to his mother." King and Prince laughed out loud, and for a moment the darkness was held at bay.
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Through the narrow cleft in the mountains Legolas could see the sky turning to aquamarine. Dawn was approaching. With both arms tied tightly behind his back it was difficult to navigate the narrow staircase he was climbing. Many of the stones were loose and Legolas had to be careful not to lose his balance and go tumbling backward. Behind him he could hear the two orcs grunting as they labored up the long staircase. Occasionally they seemed to argue with one another, but Legolas did not understand the foul speech of Mordor, and so he could not be certain if they were truly arguing or if that was simply the timbre of their language. No matter, the orcs concerned him little. What concerned him most was climbing the steps in front of him - Serewen.
Anger rose in the pit of his stomach as he watched her lightly mount each step. He had been surprised during the night when he discovered it was she who had captured him at knifepoint in the Morgul Vale, but now that surprise had turned to anger. A rage was building within him unlike anything he had ever known. How had she deceived the elves for so long? How had she deceived him? The evil which dwelt within her was now palpable to the elf-prince, but why had he been unable to sense it before?
"You could not sense me, my young fool, because in your pride you could not even consider that one of your own would ever betray you." Legolas grimaced at her reading his mind, but said nothing. "I did my best to hide my true nature from all of the elves of Edhil-e-londe, but they allowed themselves to be fooled. You are all arrogant and blind to your own faults. It was all too easy."
This was the first time she had deigned to speak with him, and Legolas was ill prepared for the conversation. But he needed information, "And what is your true nature, Serewen?"
Legolas perceived a slight stiffening in her gait as she continued to climb. "Since I no longer have to play the role of dutiful subject you will call me by my true name, Morwen." She waited for a reply, but none came. "By your silence I assume my name is unfamiliar to you?"
Legolas searched his memory, but could not recall ever having known an elf by that name. "No, your name means nothing to me." Behind him the harsh words of the two orcs grew louder, and this time he could hear the sounds of pushing and jostling. It would seem that they were having an argument after all. "Should it?"
Morwen laughed quietly to herself, "So, I was correct."
"What were you correct about?" Legolas replied with some irritation. He had never liked conversations where he had to extract every bit of information with great difficulty.
"I was correct about your father. He did not tell you of his past."
Legolas sighed, the conversation was more exhausting to him than the long climb, but he knew he had only a short time. He knew the path they were taking would lead to the tower of Cirith Ungol. It was the same path the Ringbearer had taken twenty years ago. There were two long flights of stairs and then they must travel through the underground tunnels where dwelt Shelob, if she had survived Sam's attack. He was certain that's where Gimli was being held, and the dwarf would be executed upon his arrival. He could not let that happen. "My father has spoken to me of his past, but he believed in living in the present, and so his thoughts did not often stray to days gone by."
"How much do you know about his past?"
"Enough, but I will not discuss these things with you." In truth, his father was very close-lipped about his past, but Legolas had attributed this to the pain of losing his wife, Legolas's mother. It irritated him that this dark elf might know more about his father than he did.
"I have no need to discuss such things with you. I know all about Thranduil's past. I was there for much of it."
They had reached the end of the first staircase. They were still between the walls off the two mountains, but the steps gave way to a gentle incline. Morwen stopped and turned to face Legolas. "Tell me, do you know how your brothers died?"
Legolas glared at her, "I have no brothers."
Morwen threw her head back and laughed. The sound was as cold as the mountain air around them. It held no joy, but seemed to mock the elf- prince. This was more humiliation than he could bear. He had failed on all points to recognize the enemy within his midst, he had failed his people, he had failed Gimli, and he had failed his father. One foot shot out and deftly caught a small pebble lying on the ground. With a flick the stone hurtled through the air and hit Morwen in the eye. She stumbled backwards, and Legolas would have pounced upon her, even without the use of his arms if the two orcs had not drawn their blades and forced him against the far wall.
The dark elf was huddled against the opposite wall, one hand cupping the wounded eye. She regained her composure quickly and approached her captive. The eye was already beginning to swell. She moved the two orcs aside and drew her elven blade. She pressed her body against his and the tip of her knife traced the outline of his jaw.
Legolas stared back into those black eyes, and for the first time he noticed that there was nothing behind them. An infinity of space lay within her stare, blackness upon blackness. Legolas shuddered slightly under that gaze. Blood trickled down his neck from where her blade had pierced the skin.
"How beautiful is Legolas," Morwen's voice was like ice in his ear. "Many have remarked that there is none fairer of Thranduil's people. The same was said of Haldim, your brother, but you are even fairer than he." Morwen leaned closer so that Legolas could feel her hot breath upon his face. "My father slew him in Menegroth. He beheaded him and gouged out both his eyes while your father looked on, and I will do the same to you in time."
Legolas stared back into those lifeless eyes and did not flinch, "You seek to turn me against my own father, but I will not listen to your lies." In one swift movement Morwen stepped back, brought the haft of her knife round, and slammed into Legolas's face. He saw stars in front of his eyes, but already being against the wall he was able to remain on his feet.
"Know this, beautiful one, you will be journeying to the Undying Lands very soon, and when you arrive there you will find Elessea, your mother. There also you will find Sule and Aldan and Haldim, your brothers, and Ailin, your sister." Morwen took a fistful of Legolas's golden hair in her hand and yanked his head backwards. Resting the blade aside his throat she whispered in his ear, "I know this because I watched my father as he beheaded each of them, but as for you," Morwen leaned in closer and Legolas felt the blade bite even deeper into his skin, "I will personally remove that pretty head when the time comes." The blade was removed and he felt the wetness of blood where it had been. At the same time Morwen threw him by the hair across the cleft and into the opposite wall. This time Legolas could not keep his balance and he fell into a heap next to the wall.
Legolas's mind was reeling. He wanted to believe that Morwen lied, but his heart told him otherwise. His father had been very close about his life before he had built his kingdom. When he was much younger he had pressed the King of Mirkwood about his past, begged him to tell of the Eldar days, but his father would not speak of it. He said only that the past held much pain for him, and if Morwen did speak the truth then his father's words were only too true. Legolas picked himself up slowly and stared at Morwen. The anger was building, "Why, Serewen?! What has my family done to you that you and your father would seek such vengeance?"
Morwen's eyes darkened, "You will call me Morwen, son of Thranduil. I require you to be alive when your father arrives, but I can inflict much pain before death comes." She paused for a moment to let the threat sink in, but continued without a reply. "And as for your question – I seek your death, as my father did of your brothers and sister, to repay Thranduil for the murder of my brothers."
Legolas could take no more. It was one thing for the dark elf to imply that his father had hidden the truth from him, but it was quite another to accuse him of murder. Legolas lunged at Morwen but dropped at the last moment and rolled into her legs, well out of the way of her knife blade. He was rewarded with the thud of her body falling to the ground. Rising quickly Legolas was able to level a kick at the base of her head. A soft moan emanated from Morwen's lips and she went limp.
The two orcs had watched the fight from a safe distance at the top of the stairs, but when their master had been overpowered they moved forward for the attack. After all the elf's arms were still bound behind him. Legolas knelt down and grasped Morwen's knife in his two hands. The orcs were almost upon him. Lightly he jumped straight up. Catching a small cleft in the rock with his foot he pushed off and sailed over the heads of his attackers. He headed straight for the stairs and began to descend them three at a time.
He continued down the mountain for a few minutes until he felt he felt he had a comfortable lead. He stopped momentarily to saw through the bonds around his wrists. The blade was sharp and his hands were free within moments. Instantly he was running down the stairway again. His elven senses kept him on his feet and his eyes strained hard to avoid the broken steps and cracks. He knew he was being pursued. He could feel her presence as a black shadow following him, but she was not gaining on him.
The steps flew by in a blur. Legolas found the concentration necessary to avoid tripping and falling becoming increasingly difficult. How many minutes went by as he continued his descent Legolas did not know, but eventually he neared the end of the great stairway. The elf-prince gauged there to be about two hundred steps remaining. Still he could feel the shadow following behind, but he would certainly reach the bottom of the steps before her, and this would give him time to hide himself and his path of escape. He pushed himself even faster as he neared the bottom.
Suddenly Legolas's legs came out from under him. Something heavy had hit him from behind. He was thrown forward and hit the steps in front of him hard. Dazed he tried to grab hold of anything to stop him from rolling, but as his hand grasped a corner of cold stone he was again hit by another heavy object. This time he caught site of the body of one of the orcs as it rolled past him, but he was now tumbling out of control himself. For a short time he was wracked with pain each time his body hit the cold, hard stone beneath him. He cried out as he came at last to the foot of the stairs. His body continued to roll for a short distance then finally came to rest, but Legolas did not care. He had succumbed to the blissful numbness of unconsciousness.
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Lalaith ran as fast as she could along the ledge. The rangers had tracked the footprints of Serewen and Legolas to this trail. The path soon led onto the hard stone of the mountain, and there tracking was impossible, but this could be the only possible route they could have taken. The company was making all haste to follow after the two missing elves.
Lalaith stopped. Her ears detected noises up ahead. The sounds were unfamiliar to the elf, but they were drawing closer. Suddenly Lalaith heard a voice cry out in pain. That was Legolas. Instantly she was running forward again.
Rounding a bend in the mountain Lalaith saw Serewen leaning over the body of Legolas. He was not moving. Neither were the two orcs lying close by. Serewen looked up at the sound of the company's approach obviously startled by their presence. She rose to greet them. "It is good we have found one another again. Prince Legolas has fallen from these steps while pursuing these orcs. He is not dead, but I fear he is gravely injured."
Tolmoth knelt beside the Prince and checked his pulse. Many dark bruises were forming all over his body. Tolmoth called the elf's name, but there was no response. Rising he turned to face the rest of the company, "Serewen is correct. He is gravely injured, but I have seen those of his race suffer worse and recover fully in a matter of days. For now, all we can do is wait and see.
"Here we are hidden from the eyes of Minas Morgul. It is a risk, but we should build a fire to keep the elf warm, and also I am in need of some hot water to steep my herbs in." Tolmoth nodded to Gerath and Andru who immediately went to hunt for firewood.
Boromir shook his head, "And every moment we wait puts Master Gimli at greater risk." Faramir's son looked distressed. "But we must do what we can for Legolas." Boromir watched as Tolmoth made the injured elf more comfortable and then began to search his bag for whatever healing herbs he might have with him. Boromir's attention shifted to Serewen. "What happened, Serewen? How did you and the Prince come to be here?"
Serewen looked at him with her black eyes. One of those eyes was quite swollen now. "We were captured by orcs, as I'm sure you have already guessed. They marched us up this flight of steps here, but when we came to the top Legolas fought his way free. He slew many of the orcs, but these two fled back down the stair, and he gave chase. I followed him. He had come near to the bottom when he lost his footing and fell the rest of the way taking the two orcs with him."
Boromir, like his father, could sense when someone was lying, and he knew Serewen was not speaking the truth. Or at least she was not speaking all of the truth. He had never known an elf to lie, and this concerned him greatly. He did not think the other elves would take too kindly to his accusing Serewen of false speech, and so he let the matter lie storing the information until later. When Legolas awoke he could confirm her story.
Again thank you so much for the reviews. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate them BTW, someone E-mailed me shortly after I posted the last chapter (the E-mail was entitled Out of Darkness) but I accidentally deleted the E-mail. (Believe it or not, I sneezed as I was deleting all the junk E-mail and the mouse jumped and bye-bye.). Anyway, I did not catch the name, but if you E-mailed me and did not get a response I apologize and would ask if you would kindly resend I will respond in kind. Thanks. Enjoy.
Chapter X
The Past Returns
King Thranduil stood on his balcony staring at the starry sky. How beautiful the stars had always seemed to him. Brilliant white jewels set in ebony they glowed with a warmth and fire that could be felt deep within his elven soul. The stars had been a part of this world as long as he had, and their longevity was a comfort to one so old. He felt his age now, but not in the manner of humans who have reached the ends of their lives dwindling away towards the inevitable conclusion. The elves did not suffer the physical affects of aging, as they did not bear the burden of mortality, but they were not immune to the passing of time.
Through all his long years Thranduil had seen the world moving and changing about him. He had been present at the end of the First Age when the sea rose and consumed Beleriand and the very land of Middle-earth was changed. He had witnessed mountains falling and rising, rivers changing their courses, vast forests reduced to small isles of trees. He had witnessed the never-ending cycle of evil rising in power then being defeated by the good peoples of the earth and eventually rising again in a new guise. But now Thranduil who forsook the Undying Lands to remain in his beloved Middle- earth felt for the first time that Middle-earth had passed him by, and that he no longer had a place within it's beautiful lands.
Such was the bane of the elves - to watch the world changing around them, as they themselves remained the same. Even now the elves of Middle-earth mourned for the loss of all that once was, and when the pain and suffering became too great they traveled to the Grey Havens and departed this world forever. But such love did Thranduil have for Middle-earth that he had come to Greenwood the Great and built his kingdom. And within his small kingdom he was able to slow the changing of the world for a short time.
But even as he built this new kingdom the world without was changing rapidly. The elves were leaving Middle-earth and men were increasing. The elves had preserved Middle-earth. They had lived in a symbiotic relationship with all of her wonders and gifts, and worked to co-exist with all things living. But the men and especially the abhorrent dwarves were the parasites of Middle-earth. They were masters of destruction and waste. They disemboweled the mountains and cut down the trees. They slew the great animals that roamed the lands for sport, leaving the bodies to rot upon the earth while they took only the antlers or pelt. They damned the rivers heedless of the effects on the fish and birds. Perhaps this was why Thranduil so often sought the stars for comfort. Illuvatar had placed them out of the reach of man, dwarf or even elf, and so they could not be marred. They remained ever beautiful, ever the same.
Thranduil gripped the railing of the balcony he was standing on. It was now his second night in Minas Mallen, and he had spent both nights on the balcony of his room staring east and north. He did not know why, but he felt certain that his son was in that direction. The impetus to go and search for his youngest son himself was strong, but he knew that as long as these Daequendi, as they were being called here in Ithilien, did not have him then they would not kill Legolas.
Thranduil's room was high up in the main tower of Minas Mallen. From there his sharp elven eyes could see far, and movement at the edge of the forest surrounding Amon Galen caught his attention. A rider was approaching the city. As he emerged from the trees Thranduil could see that is was one of Faramir's Dunedain and he was riding at a full gallop. Turning around the king of Eryn Lasgalen left his rooms and made for the heart of the citadel.
He arrived at the gate to the citadel in time to see the rider coming up the street through the city. The rider approached swiftly, and was soon at the gate. "Hail, Thaldin! I come bearing urgent news. I must speak with Prince Faramir immediately." The Dunadan's voice sounded grave, but then again, mused Thranduil, all Rangers spoke gravely even when it concerned nothing more than the weather or the state of their health.
Thaldin motioned to one of his guards and the man entered the palace at a run. "Hail, Arnoth!" Thaldin called back, "and welcome home." The gate was opened and Arnoth entered. The Ranger dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to a page when he noticed Thranduil standing there. The Dunadan looked even more grim, if that was possible, as he approached the King of the Wood Elves. Thranduil noted with some shock that the man had read his thoughts. "Sire." The man bowed low before him, "I am sorry, but I have heard nothing of the search for Prince Legolas. Though, in truth, I was not among those who are searching for him. My errand was elsewhere." Bowing low again the Ranger turned and entered the citadel.
He had not really expected news yet, but he was certain that something of great import had brought the Dunadan at such speed to seek Faramir in the quiet hours before the dawn. Thranduil followed Arnoth, and soon found himself at the doors into Faramir and Eowyn's apartments. The guards outside opened the door for Arnoth to enter. Thranduil followed, and the guards did not stop him, though both raised eyebrows at his boldness. It was a breach of etiquette to come unannounced into the presence of royalty, but the elf-King was beyond such trivial things now.
Arnoth strode into the rooms and bowed low before Prince Faramir, "My Lord, I have returned out of the East with grave tidings." Faramir paused at the sight of Thranduil behind the Ranger but quickly realized that the King of Eryn Lasgalen would not be persuaded to leave. "What have you learned, Arnoth?"
"As you know I was dispatched to southern Mordor to watch over the Easterlings and their doings. We knew they were amassing a large army of orcs, men, and wargs beneath the southern mountains of the Ephel Duath. Two days ago they were congregating on the fields of Nurn. The men and orcs bore spears, swords, bows and arrows, and other such weapons, and all wore mail and armor. They are preparing to attack, and although when I left they had not yet marched forth, I am almost certain their first target will be Ithilien. But that is not the worst of the news. When I left the orcs were still poring out of their mountain hideaways. I estimated that there were at least ten thousand orcs and men visible when I departed, but there was no way to judge the numbers still hidden beneath the Ephel Duath."
Faramir was not a man to show surprise easily, but even Ithilien's prince could not hide the shock in hearing such news. The numbers of orcs still within the confines of Mordor and its borders had been greatly underestimated. That or they were breeding at an unprecedented rate. Faramir sighed and turned to Arnoth, "We suspected new leadership, but this is far beyond anything we could have predicted. It is as if the Dark Lord himself has returned to summon their strength again."
Arnoth said nothing and Faramir stood silent for some time, but eventually the prince shook his head clearing away whatever thoughts might have been keeping his attention then he turned to the Ranger, "Go, Arnoth, and rouse the Dunedain. Tell them to come to the Great Hall at sunrise."
Arnoth bowed again before his prince and then departed soundlessly. Faramir nodded to Thranduil, "A moment, your highness, I must send word to all those who must attend the war council." The Prince strode to the doors to his apartments and spoke with his guards. After a few moments Faramir closed the door, but he did not turn around. He bowed his head and Thranduil's ears detected a small sigh escape the man's lips.
"You are troubled, young Prince, because this news puts you to a difficult decision," Thranduil said matter-of-factly. Faramir turned to face the Elven King. "Many of your best soldiers are right now searching Ithilien for Gimli and for our sons. Should you call them back, or let them continue the search? Either way, dire consequences could result." Faramir nodded, but allowed the king to continue. "But in truth there is no choice. You are the leader of this country, and you must guide your people as they prepare for war. It is your duty, much though it may pain you. You must call the men back."
Thranduil's gaze strayed to the windows of Faramir's apartment. Dawn had not yet come and the stars still shone brightly. "But you will not bear this burden alone. With your leave, I will fight beside you, along with all the elves I have brought out of Eryn Lasgalen, though 350 is small compared to 10,000."
Faramir was stunned. "No, sire, not if that 350 is of your race." The Prince of Ithilien looked upon Thranduil and felt a kinship with the elf. Both men suffered the agony of not knowing the fates of their one and only child. "Will you also remain with us to fight the enemy out of the east?"
Thranduil's smile was cold and sardonic. "If by that you mean do I intend to refrain from searching for Legolas myself? Then the answer is yes. Though I bear it at great pain, I will not seek my son. My coming to his aid would be as a death warrant if I were captured. Too late were my attempts to rescue the others. The lesson was been learned at great price."
Thranduil looked tired and worn, almost human. Faramir felt a great pity for him, but kept this to himself knowing it would only anger the Elven King. "I will not abandon the search completely. Four of my Rangers will continue the hunt for Legolas, Boromir, and the others. They may yet return safely to us."
For the first time since he had arrived a genuine smile crept across Thranduil's lips, "And when they do they will have their fathers to deal with. It might be better for them if they stay to fight the Daequendi." Faramir grinned back. "Yes, you are undoubtedly correct. However, I believe Boromir has it much worse than Legolas for when I have finished with him he will then be handed over to his mother." King and Prince laughed out loud, and for a moment the darkness was held at bay.
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Through the narrow cleft in the mountains Legolas could see the sky turning to aquamarine. Dawn was approaching. With both arms tied tightly behind his back it was difficult to navigate the narrow staircase he was climbing. Many of the stones were loose and Legolas had to be careful not to lose his balance and go tumbling backward. Behind him he could hear the two orcs grunting as they labored up the long staircase. Occasionally they seemed to argue with one another, but Legolas did not understand the foul speech of Mordor, and so he could not be certain if they were truly arguing or if that was simply the timbre of their language. No matter, the orcs concerned him little. What concerned him most was climbing the steps in front of him - Serewen.
Anger rose in the pit of his stomach as he watched her lightly mount each step. He had been surprised during the night when he discovered it was she who had captured him at knifepoint in the Morgul Vale, but now that surprise had turned to anger. A rage was building within him unlike anything he had ever known. How had she deceived the elves for so long? How had she deceived him? The evil which dwelt within her was now palpable to the elf-prince, but why had he been unable to sense it before?
"You could not sense me, my young fool, because in your pride you could not even consider that one of your own would ever betray you." Legolas grimaced at her reading his mind, but said nothing. "I did my best to hide my true nature from all of the elves of Edhil-e-londe, but they allowed themselves to be fooled. You are all arrogant and blind to your own faults. It was all too easy."
This was the first time she had deigned to speak with him, and Legolas was ill prepared for the conversation. But he needed information, "And what is your true nature, Serewen?"
Legolas perceived a slight stiffening in her gait as she continued to climb. "Since I no longer have to play the role of dutiful subject you will call me by my true name, Morwen." She waited for a reply, but none came. "By your silence I assume my name is unfamiliar to you?"
Legolas searched his memory, but could not recall ever having known an elf by that name. "No, your name means nothing to me." Behind him the harsh words of the two orcs grew louder, and this time he could hear the sounds of pushing and jostling. It would seem that they were having an argument after all. "Should it?"
Morwen laughed quietly to herself, "So, I was correct."
"What were you correct about?" Legolas replied with some irritation. He had never liked conversations where he had to extract every bit of information with great difficulty.
"I was correct about your father. He did not tell you of his past."
Legolas sighed, the conversation was more exhausting to him than the long climb, but he knew he had only a short time. He knew the path they were taking would lead to the tower of Cirith Ungol. It was the same path the Ringbearer had taken twenty years ago. There were two long flights of stairs and then they must travel through the underground tunnels where dwelt Shelob, if she had survived Sam's attack. He was certain that's where Gimli was being held, and the dwarf would be executed upon his arrival. He could not let that happen. "My father has spoken to me of his past, but he believed in living in the present, and so his thoughts did not often stray to days gone by."
"How much do you know about his past?"
"Enough, but I will not discuss these things with you." In truth, his father was very close-lipped about his past, but Legolas had attributed this to the pain of losing his wife, Legolas's mother. It irritated him that this dark elf might know more about his father than he did.
"I have no need to discuss such things with you. I know all about Thranduil's past. I was there for much of it."
They had reached the end of the first staircase. They were still between the walls off the two mountains, but the steps gave way to a gentle incline. Morwen stopped and turned to face Legolas. "Tell me, do you know how your brothers died?"
Legolas glared at her, "I have no brothers."
Morwen threw her head back and laughed. The sound was as cold as the mountain air around them. It held no joy, but seemed to mock the elf- prince. This was more humiliation than he could bear. He had failed on all points to recognize the enemy within his midst, he had failed his people, he had failed Gimli, and he had failed his father. One foot shot out and deftly caught a small pebble lying on the ground. With a flick the stone hurtled through the air and hit Morwen in the eye. She stumbled backwards, and Legolas would have pounced upon her, even without the use of his arms if the two orcs had not drawn their blades and forced him against the far wall.
The dark elf was huddled against the opposite wall, one hand cupping the wounded eye. She regained her composure quickly and approached her captive. The eye was already beginning to swell. She moved the two orcs aside and drew her elven blade. She pressed her body against his and the tip of her knife traced the outline of his jaw.
Legolas stared back into those black eyes, and for the first time he noticed that there was nothing behind them. An infinity of space lay within her stare, blackness upon blackness. Legolas shuddered slightly under that gaze. Blood trickled down his neck from where her blade had pierced the skin.
"How beautiful is Legolas," Morwen's voice was like ice in his ear. "Many have remarked that there is none fairer of Thranduil's people. The same was said of Haldim, your brother, but you are even fairer than he." Morwen leaned closer so that Legolas could feel her hot breath upon his face. "My father slew him in Menegroth. He beheaded him and gouged out both his eyes while your father looked on, and I will do the same to you in time."
Legolas stared back into those lifeless eyes and did not flinch, "You seek to turn me against my own father, but I will not listen to your lies." In one swift movement Morwen stepped back, brought the haft of her knife round, and slammed into Legolas's face. He saw stars in front of his eyes, but already being against the wall he was able to remain on his feet.
"Know this, beautiful one, you will be journeying to the Undying Lands very soon, and when you arrive there you will find Elessea, your mother. There also you will find Sule and Aldan and Haldim, your brothers, and Ailin, your sister." Morwen took a fistful of Legolas's golden hair in her hand and yanked his head backwards. Resting the blade aside his throat she whispered in his ear, "I know this because I watched my father as he beheaded each of them, but as for you," Morwen leaned in closer and Legolas felt the blade bite even deeper into his skin, "I will personally remove that pretty head when the time comes." The blade was removed and he felt the wetness of blood where it had been. At the same time Morwen threw him by the hair across the cleft and into the opposite wall. This time Legolas could not keep his balance and he fell into a heap next to the wall.
Legolas's mind was reeling. He wanted to believe that Morwen lied, but his heart told him otherwise. His father had been very close about his life before he had built his kingdom. When he was much younger he had pressed the King of Mirkwood about his past, begged him to tell of the Eldar days, but his father would not speak of it. He said only that the past held much pain for him, and if Morwen did speak the truth then his father's words were only too true. Legolas picked himself up slowly and stared at Morwen. The anger was building, "Why, Serewen?! What has my family done to you that you and your father would seek such vengeance?"
Morwen's eyes darkened, "You will call me Morwen, son of Thranduil. I require you to be alive when your father arrives, but I can inflict much pain before death comes." She paused for a moment to let the threat sink in, but continued without a reply. "And as for your question – I seek your death, as my father did of your brothers and sister, to repay Thranduil for the murder of my brothers."
Legolas could take no more. It was one thing for the dark elf to imply that his father had hidden the truth from him, but it was quite another to accuse him of murder. Legolas lunged at Morwen but dropped at the last moment and rolled into her legs, well out of the way of her knife blade. He was rewarded with the thud of her body falling to the ground. Rising quickly Legolas was able to level a kick at the base of her head. A soft moan emanated from Morwen's lips and she went limp.
The two orcs had watched the fight from a safe distance at the top of the stairs, but when their master had been overpowered they moved forward for the attack. After all the elf's arms were still bound behind him. Legolas knelt down and grasped Morwen's knife in his two hands. The orcs were almost upon him. Lightly he jumped straight up. Catching a small cleft in the rock with his foot he pushed off and sailed over the heads of his attackers. He headed straight for the stairs and began to descend them three at a time.
He continued down the mountain for a few minutes until he felt he felt he had a comfortable lead. He stopped momentarily to saw through the bonds around his wrists. The blade was sharp and his hands were free within moments. Instantly he was running down the stairway again. His elven senses kept him on his feet and his eyes strained hard to avoid the broken steps and cracks. He knew he was being pursued. He could feel her presence as a black shadow following him, but she was not gaining on him.
The steps flew by in a blur. Legolas found the concentration necessary to avoid tripping and falling becoming increasingly difficult. How many minutes went by as he continued his descent Legolas did not know, but eventually he neared the end of the great stairway. The elf-prince gauged there to be about two hundred steps remaining. Still he could feel the shadow following behind, but he would certainly reach the bottom of the steps before her, and this would give him time to hide himself and his path of escape. He pushed himself even faster as he neared the bottom.
Suddenly Legolas's legs came out from under him. Something heavy had hit him from behind. He was thrown forward and hit the steps in front of him hard. Dazed he tried to grab hold of anything to stop him from rolling, but as his hand grasped a corner of cold stone he was again hit by another heavy object. This time he caught site of the body of one of the orcs as it rolled past him, but he was now tumbling out of control himself. For a short time he was wracked with pain each time his body hit the cold, hard stone beneath him. He cried out as he came at last to the foot of the stairs. His body continued to roll for a short distance then finally came to rest, but Legolas did not care. He had succumbed to the blissful numbness of unconsciousness.
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Lalaith ran as fast as she could along the ledge. The rangers had tracked the footprints of Serewen and Legolas to this trail. The path soon led onto the hard stone of the mountain, and there tracking was impossible, but this could be the only possible route they could have taken. The company was making all haste to follow after the two missing elves.
Lalaith stopped. Her ears detected noises up ahead. The sounds were unfamiliar to the elf, but they were drawing closer. Suddenly Lalaith heard a voice cry out in pain. That was Legolas. Instantly she was running forward again.
Rounding a bend in the mountain Lalaith saw Serewen leaning over the body of Legolas. He was not moving. Neither were the two orcs lying close by. Serewen looked up at the sound of the company's approach obviously startled by their presence. She rose to greet them. "It is good we have found one another again. Prince Legolas has fallen from these steps while pursuing these orcs. He is not dead, but I fear he is gravely injured."
Tolmoth knelt beside the Prince and checked his pulse. Many dark bruises were forming all over his body. Tolmoth called the elf's name, but there was no response. Rising he turned to face the rest of the company, "Serewen is correct. He is gravely injured, but I have seen those of his race suffer worse and recover fully in a matter of days. For now, all we can do is wait and see.
"Here we are hidden from the eyes of Minas Morgul. It is a risk, but we should build a fire to keep the elf warm, and also I am in need of some hot water to steep my herbs in." Tolmoth nodded to Gerath and Andru who immediately went to hunt for firewood.
Boromir shook his head, "And every moment we wait puts Master Gimli at greater risk." Faramir's son looked distressed. "But we must do what we can for Legolas." Boromir watched as Tolmoth made the injured elf more comfortable and then began to search his bag for whatever healing herbs he might have with him. Boromir's attention shifted to Serewen. "What happened, Serewen? How did you and the Prince come to be here?"
Serewen looked at him with her black eyes. One of those eyes was quite swollen now. "We were captured by orcs, as I'm sure you have already guessed. They marched us up this flight of steps here, but when we came to the top Legolas fought his way free. He slew many of the orcs, but these two fled back down the stair, and he gave chase. I followed him. He had come near to the bottom when he lost his footing and fell the rest of the way taking the two orcs with him."
Boromir, like his father, could sense when someone was lying, and he knew Serewen was not speaking the truth. Or at least she was not speaking all of the truth. He had never known an elf to lie, and this concerned him greatly. He did not think the other elves would take too kindly to his accusing Serewen of false speech, and so he let the matter lie storing the information until later. When Legolas awoke he could confirm her story.