Legolas groaned as he shifted slightly. Opening his eyes, he glanced around the clearing, and suppressed a cry as his pain slammed into him. Desperately he shifted through his memories, trying to find why he felt so horrible, for he had no wish to move and find out why.
There had been an attack; most of his hunting party had been killed. Except him, and he did not understand why he was still living. The last thing he remembered was being shot in the back, and falling to the ground, striking his head upon a rock. That was where his memories stopped.
Another question presented itself, what had attacked them. All he could remember was a blur of black, familiar and yet not to him.
"So, little one, we meet again," a slight hiss filled his mind, so vile and dark that it hurt him.
"No," he groaned, recognizing finally what had attacked them.
He suppressed the whimper in his throat, and released the anger, letting it burn at the fear within him. He raised his head to glare at his attacker, and worst enemy.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*He is near,* a voice in his mind prompted him.
Thranduil snapped awake from his slight doze, and looked around. The air was still; quiet, and his fellow searchers had not spoken. So who could that have been?
It sounded oddly familiar, yet so shadowed that he could to rightfully place it.
What had it meant, that Legolas was near, or that the enemy was near? Could he truly trust this voice either way? These questions swarmed through him, yet within it, he knew he could trust this voice, and that the voice spoke of his missing son, as well as of the enemy.
Quietly he signaled to his companions to be more alert, and then slipped off his horse. Handing the reigns to another Elf, he slipped into the trees to track his son on foot.
Walking silently, his eyes trailed over the ground and the trees. Nothing escaped his sharp gaze as he moved, like a silent predator, waiting to attack at the slightest reason.
Though Thranduil was a sometimes-harsh King, he was kind and wise in his own right, and always gentle with his own son. But to those that injured or try to injury those of his blood, did not receive mercy, and usually received a vicious end given from him himself. It had happened before, to all who dared to try it, or had succeeded, except in Minuiind's case. His killer had never been found, and Thranduil felt guilt at letting him get away. Now Legolas might pay for his Father's mistake, and Thranduil could not live with that.
*I am coming, my son,* he sent silently, praying to the Valar that Legolas would hear him.
His eyes then caught a slight sparkle in the sunlight. Turning, he went closer to the base of the tree and examined it. There drawn at the base of the tree was a single word written in blood in an old form of Elvish. Thranduil could smell that it was Elf blood, and the word sent a shiver down his spin as he read it.
'Death.'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
'Defiant to the last, little one? So much like your brother,' the voice hissed in his mind as he glared up in defiance.
He did not respond, only continued to feed the anger within him. Remember Minuiind's last moments of pain, his brother's blood staining that creature's dagger. The very cry that issued from Minuiind as that cruel blade sunk in. The tears his Father had shed, the tears he had shed. He used these memories to make it grow, and make sure he would not back down from this threat, to suppress the fear he felt.
'I thought so,' the creature hissed silently, running a icy cold hand across his check, the nails on that hand digging into Legolas's cheek, and drawing blood, 'But you shall fall, just as he did. Only I plan to make it far more painful for you, little one. Decedent of my enemy.'
Legolas suppressed his confusion at this. Decedent of this creature's enemy? What did he mean?
The creature laughed at the confusion it sensed.
'You truly do not know, little one? My, has your mother taught you nothing of her history? Oh, wait, your mother is dead,' the creature said, dark amusement in its tone, 'Now she was a hard one to kill!'
That anger in Legolas exploded into rage at the mention of his Mother. His mother had died trying to give birth to Legolas and his unfortunate twin. This creature had something to do with her death, and with the sad death of his twin!
Legolas tore at his bonds, desperately wishing to kill the being before him. The creature only laughed, and slapped him, hard enough to nearly knock him senseless.
'Stupid, elfling, do you truly think you can over come me? You shall be the one to pay for your decedent's folly, and it shall not be pleasant,'
The creature then slammed Legolas's head back into the tree, knocking him unconscious. Then it knocked the princeling aside, who landed with his face in the dirt. The creature dipped a clawed finger into the puddle of blood, which had been collecting behind Legolas from the Elf's wounds, and scrawled a single word.
It then picked up Legolas and stood. With a final glance at its work, it then disappeared into the woods with his captive.
There had been an attack; most of his hunting party had been killed. Except him, and he did not understand why he was still living. The last thing he remembered was being shot in the back, and falling to the ground, striking his head upon a rock. That was where his memories stopped.
Another question presented itself, what had attacked them. All he could remember was a blur of black, familiar and yet not to him.
"So, little one, we meet again," a slight hiss filled his mind, so vile and dark that it hurt him.
"No," he groaned, recognizing finally what had attacked them.
He suppressed the whimper in his throat, and released the anger, letting it burn at the fear within him. He raised his head to glare at his attacker, and worst enemy.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*He is near,* a voice in his mind prompted him.
Thranduil snapped awake from his slight doze, and looked around. The air was still; quiet, and his fellow searchers had not spoken. So who could that have been?
It sounded oddly familiar, yet so shadowed that he could to rightfully place it.
What had it meant, that Legolas was near, or that the enemy was near? Could he truly trust this voice either way? These questions swarmed through him, yet within it, he knew he could trust this voice, and that the voice spoke of his missing son, as well as of the enemy.
Quietly he signaled to his companions to be more alert, and then slipped off his horse. Handing the reigns to another Elf, he slipped into the trees to track his son on foot.
Walking silently, his eyes trailed over the ground and the trees. Nothing escaped his sharp gaze as he moved, like a silent predator, waiting to attack at the slightest reason.
Though Thranduil was a sometimes-harsh King, he was kind and wise in his own right, and always gentle with his own son. But to those that injured or try to injury those of his blood, did not receive mercy, and usually received a vicious end given from him himself. It had happened before, to all who dared to try it, or had succeeded, except in Minuiind's case. His killer had never been found, and Thranduil felt guilt at letting him get away. Now Legolas might pay for his Father's mistake, and Thranduil could not live with that.
*I am coming, my son,* he sent silently, praying to the Valar that Legolas would hear him.
His eyes then caught a slight sparkle in the sunlight. Turning, he went closer to the base of the tree and examined it. There drawn at the base of the tree was a single word written in blood in an old form of Elvish. Thranduil could smell that it was Elf blood, and the word sent a shiver down his spin as he read it.
'Death.'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
'Defiant to the last, little one? So much like your brother,' the voice hissed in his mind as he glared up in defiance.
He did not respond, only continued to feed the anger within him. Remember Minuiind's last moments of pain, his brother's blood staining that creature's dagger. The very cry that issued from Minuiind as that cruel blade sunk in. The tears his Father had shed, the tears he had shed. He used these memories to make it grow, and make sure he would not back down from this threat, to suppress the fear he felt.
'I thought so,' the creature hissed silently, running a icy cold hand across his check, the nails on that hand digging into Legolas's cheek, and drawing blood, 'But you shall fall, just as he did. Only I plan to make it far more painful for you, little one. Decedent of my enemy.'
Legolas suppressed his confusion at this. Decedent of this creature's enemy? What did he mean?
The creature laughed at the confusion it sensed.
'You truly do not know, little one? My, has your mother taught you nothing of her history? Oh, wait, your mother is dead,' the creature said, dark amusement in its tone, 'Now she was a hard one to kill!'
That anger in Legolas exploded into rage at the mention of his Mother. His mother had died trying to give birth to Legolas and his unfortunate twin. This creature had something to do with her death, and with the sad death of his twin!
Legolas tore at his bonds, desperately wishing to kill the being before him. The creature only laughed, and slapped him, hard enough to nearly knock him senseless.
'Stupid, elfling, do you truly think you can over come me? You shall be the one to pay for your decedent's folly, and it shall not be pleasant,'
The creature then slammed Legolas's head back into the tree, knocking him unconscious. Then it knocked the princeling aside, who landed with his face in the dirt. The creature dipped a clawed finger into the puddle of blood, which had been collecting behind Legolas from the Elf's wounds, and scrawled a single word.
It then picked up Legolas and stood. With a final glance at its work, it then disappeared into the woods with his captive.