Author's Notes:

Now, we've gotten to the part that gives this story its rating. Please note that I am trying to keep within ff.net's rules, but if this and the subsequent chapter prove to be troublesome, I'll simply amend the necessary bits. Also, please note that there is NO ROMANCE in this story. And if you think that the characters are acting out of role, there are a lot of things going around Rivendell that confuse one's thoughts. This, of course, is Black's intention (I'm calling him Black because in my mind the Game Board somewhat resembles a chess board, only multi-dimensional, and Gandalf plays White). Basically, the characters have every reason to be confused, and quite a few of them aren't in full control of themselves, as you will see. It's all part of the Game.

Also, I apologise in advance for those of you who will undoubtedly be shocked and outraged at some things that will happen. I know I'm pushing the boundaries of canon (actually, I might have gone over it), but in my mind this could still have been possible. Of the books I've read so far, these events are actually possible. Apologies anyway to those who object outright, or have read more books and know this is out of canon.

Oh, and don't worry, I'm fully intending to explain all this once the fic is finished. Not much left to go!

Chapter Seven

[Sindarin]

Elrond couldn't remember when he had ever felt so terrified before.

When he saw Elrohir fall to the floor in the Dining Hall, it was as if an ice fist had closed on his heart. A felt rage and fury that he had never experienced before, even after the Kinslaying at the Haven of Sirion and seeing his mother cast herself into the Sea. Losing control was very rarely a problem for him, much to the exasperation of other rulers. So he knew that the person issuing orders for the death of the assassin and all those involved, and had himself heading towards his study rather than following the litter bearing his son, could not be him.

The full impact of his helplessness hit him when the study door locked behind him. It was as if a blanket had been put on his mind, and now it was removed he could feel that he had been pushed to the back of his brain, and that he had absolutely no control over any bodily function. It was a wonder he hadn't noticed it before; elves in particular were acutely sensitive to anything that tampered with the mind.

"An interesting night, wouldn't you say?" a dry voice very unlike his own came from his lips.

What do you want? As proof of his infallibility, even then Elrond's thought resembled that of a slight curiosity, though his predicament and how it came about was anything but. Why my son?

Chaos. Betrayal. Death. I glory in them, my dear elf. It spoke to him mind to mind now, yet Elrond was sure that though the voice controlled his body, his mind and thoughts were still very much his own. Unfortunately, both were a muddled mess at the moment, only further strengthening his fear. Your loyal subjects are going to see you lose your mind, Lord Elrond. Lose it from grief over your heir's death, and that of your bastard half-human son. In less than a year great Imladris will fall. And in another, or five, perhaps even fair Lothlòrien will burn.

Though he could understand the being's intent, the rest of his words were a little too much for the alread-confused elf lord to process in one go. His heir? But it was Elrohir who got poisoned. Perhaps this dark being didn't know which twin was which. It didn't matter, as Elrond did not care to lose any of his sons. Speaking of which… his bastard son? If he had control of his eyes, he would have blinked.

The voice mistook his silence for surprise. Yes, I have discovered your little secret, o noble Lord of Imladris!

Estel… no. Had he failed Isildur's Heir? His brother's people? What do you mean?

Do you think me simple? Do you think I would not see why you would keep a mortal woman under your personal protection? It chuckled. I understand perfectly. I cannot think of a reason why you would 'adopt' her son, unless, of course, he is yours.The perfect ruse, I must concede.

It had never occurred to Elrond that one's own thoughts could freeze as well as a body does. The voice thought that… that Gilraen was… that Estel truly was his son! He almost laughed in relief and the incredulous idea of it.

So it appears that elves aren't as noble as they say they are, the voice continued. Worry not about it, Elrond. Such relations are somewhat acceptable amongst some mortals, and you did the woman courtesy of caring for her and your offspring. But I'm afraid the boy has to go as well.

And for some undecipherable reason, the powers that be chose that exact moment for Gilraen to swing onto the balcony of Elrond's study. Hearing her land with a soft thump, the being inhabiting the elf lord study turned to face the intruder.

I do commend you on your choice, the voice sneered as he took in Gilraen's small frame. The tone of his thought sent a chill through Elrond's mind. She is a very desirable woman.

Despite the highly inappropriate moment, a part of Elrond's mind had to concede. Gilraen had married young, and though her son was fast approaching manhood, her face still retained most of the beauty of her youth. The Dunédain lived long lives for their race, and for Gilraen, age and grief only sharpened her features, giving her eyes wisdom and strength. He was still reeling from the shock of what his possessor had said though, as well as slowly realising the full extent of some of his advisors' suspicious glances.

By the Valar, Gilraen, run! He threw out his thought, hoping that somehow she would hear it, receiving only a laugh from the voice.

"Greetings, Gilraen," he heard his voice say with an undertone that only Celebrian had ever heard from him. He refused to even think about those occasions.

Her eyes narrowed. "Elrond, something is amiss! Estel has gone!"

Gilraen, the one who you face is not I! Elrond felt like smashing something. He struggled vainly against the mental barrier that made him a prisoner of his own mind. I am in here. Run!

"Gilraen… It has been long, my dear." To his everlasting horror, he felt his mouth twist into a sneer as he stepped purposely towards the woman, his eyes sliding up and down her body. "Much has happened that I will require much… comfort from you this night."

She blinked, and her eyes widened as she understood his intentions. But to Elrond's surprise, she ran not to the balcony or the door, but to his desk on one side of the room. What is she doing?

In a few strides his body had reached her as she stood behind the desk. She stared up at him, her eyes wide in terror and her lip quivering.

"But, Lord Elrond, you said… you said never again…" she stammered. Her hand reached into an open drawer and pulled out a dagger. "I shall not let you. You promised!"

What in the name of Elbereth-? There was something about that drawer that bothered him. He had hidden something there, but in his panic at the increasingly disastrous situation barred him from any sort of careful thinking. What is she doing? Gilraen!

A lustful sigh escaped his lips. "I am truly sorry, Gilraen," the voice growled.

Tears streaming down her face, Gilraen weakly jabbed at him with the dagger. The being controlling his body easily sidestepped the blade and knocked it out of her hand. She backed away from him, until she was pressed against the wall. And still his possessed body advanced, the voice chuckling in pleasure in his head.

This is a dream. It is not happening. It cannot happen.

Though he did not quite have a body of under his own control at that moment, Elrond felt a strong need to bring up his breakfast.

~*~

[Language of the Istari]

He trembled slightly, It was an effort to keep his iron-control over the Grey Wizard's Key Pieces, for both were strong of mind. He was also quickly revising his plan. He had originally intended to present his Choice to Elrond's heir, but he Gandalf had saved up his moves and blocked that Piece completely. It also seemed as if the fool had presented his Choice already, though he hadn't been aware of it.

He is more cunning than I thought.

No matter. He already had another plan in mind, though he only had a limited amount of time to put it into action. He hated being hurried! Upon discovering that the one stricken with his poison was inaccesible, he had had to push Events, and this always brought the risk of one of the Pieces losing their sanity or doing something that would unravel all of his plans.

He definitely had to hurry things along though, so he decided that he could risk a bit of pain.

~*~

[Sindarin]

No! I do not want to die!

A pity. But I fear you can do little to stop me..

The dagger was slowly reaching his skin through all the layers of cloth. Already he could feel it's razor-sharp edge closing in, despite his efforts. Estel struggled, beating at the barrier separating his mind from his body with all his might. But it refused to move.

Ready to surrender, yet, weakling? the voice taunted him.

Not stopping his mind's outward exertion to free himself, it occurred to Estel that the voice sounded a bit… strained, that time. And was it his imagination, or was the barrier giving way a little in some places. He tried pushing harder. Yes, it did move slightly. But what did it mean? Was he simply being tortured further with false hopes? Or did he truly have a chance to get free? The voice was not so strong in his head now, its tauntings less venomous. It was as if the presence was… occupied.

Then there was a weakness in the barrier. "Help! Ada, Elladan, HELP ME!!!" he managed to scream at the top of his lungs before the presence returned in full force in his mind, and Estel could feel its rage. A corner of his mind was pleased, for he knew that one of the dark being's plans had been thwarted.

He was pushed firmly to the back of his mind, losing what little control over his body that he had gained. He saw the fist with the dagger swing up, then down, and felt the cold blade enter his flesh.

~*~*~