Title: Wild Justice 27/?
Author: Rune Dancer
Rating: R
Paring: Thranduil/Celeborn/Elrond; Elrohir/Glorfindel; Haldir/Gildor; Elladan/Orophin
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline.
Warnings: BDSM.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc. Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused.
* * *
The cave was just a cave, and a boring one at that--nothing more than a small round indentation in the rock situated behind a narrow crevice. It could have been where Tuor met his mysterious stranger, or it could have been simply a hole in the wall; there was no way to tell. One thing seemed certain, however; it did not contain an alternate route into the mountain. Erestor backed Tuor dangerously close to the ledge by the cave's entrance, to the point where his heels were actually dangling off the edge, before politely asking why he had deceived them. Tuor swallowed, but his voice was steady when he replied.
"I assumed there was an entrance to the mines here, since this is where I met my . . . contacts, but I never actually saw one."
Erestor considered pushing him off the side of the mountain, just to see how many bumps he would take on the way down, and something of his thoughts must have shown in his eyes, for Tuor blanched visibly. After letting him worry for a few seconds, Erestor released him. He had received the impression that Glorfindel had some sort of plans for Tuor, and he made it a point never to interfere with someone else's revenge.
Erestor was loath to try the same entrance as on their previous trip, as their killing of the guards on the way out must have made it obvious that they knew about it. Surely, after the recent battle, the entrance would be well fortified. But when a painstaking search of the cave disclosed no other way into the mines, he reluctantly agreed that they had no choice. There was no way to tell how long it would be before the main body of orcs returned, and they had to be long gone by then. "With any luck, our enemies will assume that we would never try that way again." Erestor raised a brow but did not bother to contradict Glorfindel, who was obviously trying to raise the elves' morale.
Erestor was soon distracted from his gloomy thoughts by an argument that flared up between Glorfindel and Elrohir. They were whispering, albeit in rather savage undertones, but it was easy enough for elvish ears to hear them. Erestor bustled the other elves out of the cavern, giving Camthalion orders to personally watch over Tuor as he did so, then returned to the cave to mediate. How these two had ever managed to be a couple for centuries without killing each other and everyone else around them was a continual source of amazement to him. There was certainly nothing tepid about their relationship.
" . . . and that is final!" Glorfindel was looking as livid as Erestor could ever remember seeing him as he glowered at his young companion.
"I have passed my majority. You can no longer order me about." Elrohir looked calmer than his lover at the moment, his face almost serene, but Erestor did not take heart from that fact. He remembered the expression well from the elf's childhood; it denoted that he had made up his mind and was no longer even considering another point of view. Erestor had found that arguing with him when he wore that face was an exercise in futility. The Peredhils could be the most stubborn elves in all of Arda when they chose, and it was clear that Elrohir had done so.
"I am not going to argue with you, Elrohir. If you attempt to follow us you will be tied to a tree and left there!"
"As orc bait?" Erestor decided to take the plunge. If they had a common source of irritation in him, perhaps they would stop looking daggers at each other.
"Stay out of this, Erestor."
Erestor would have liked to oblige, as he did not normally tease his friend when he was in a mood, but he had little choice. Valuable time was being wasted while they argued. "We must go, Glorfindel. The longer we wait, the greater risk we take. What seems to be the problem?"
Elrohir answered for him, looking disgusted. "Glorfindel wants me to remain behind with the wounded!"
"You are our only healer! They require your attention."
Elrohir shrugged off his lover's comment. "None is in any danger, as I told you. I have dressed their wounds, all they need now is a little time to recover. Even at the moment, though, they are perfectly capable of defending themselves against a small band of orcs, and if a larger group was to come across them, what use would one more elf be? As long as they stay out of sight, they should be fine."
Erestor personally agreed with this assessment, but it was clear that Glorfindel did not. He was being unusually protective, which was odd as Elrohir had demonstrated that he was able to defend himself nicely even without his memories. He had fought well in the orc attack several days before--Erestor had been quite proud of him--and a number of Elrohir's arrows had been sticking out of orc bodies in the glade that morning. It was probable that Elrohir would be safer outside the mines rather than in, but it was also true that they needed every elf for this plan to have a chance at success.
"You need me," Elrohir was saying, echoing Erestor's thoughts. "You don't know what we'll find in the mines, and our numbers are small enough already."
"I don't care," Glorfindel began, and Elrohir's face flushed with anger at the command in his lover's tone.
"Glorfindel, if I might speak with you for a moment?" Erestor grabbed his friend's arm and forcibly towed him out of the cave to a spot in the forest some distance away. "Are you quite mad?"
"Let go of my arm and stop interfering!"
"I will stop interfering as soon as you stop acting like an idiot. One is enough for our party, don't you think? Or is Tuor's madness catching? You know perfectly well that the hard line approach is unlikely to work with Elrohir."
"I will not permit him to come with us--it is too risky. I meant what I said, Erestor--I will tie him up if I have to and leave the wounded with orders to do whatever is necessary to keep him from following us. Even a slight injury would be better than . . . "
"So now you are planning to break his leg while we are surrounded by orcs and could be ambushed at any moment? What has he done that you wish him dead?"
Glorfindel looked truly haggard for a moment as he ran a distracted hand through his hair. His braids were less than their usual perfection and his eyes looked tormented. "His death is what I am trying to avoid! He CANNOT come, Erestor." He sighed, "I do not have time to explain right now, but as strange as it may sound, Elrohir was supposed to die today. I prevented it, altered the way things were meant to happen, but now I am consumed by fear that I actually only delayed them. He has not yet realised fully who he is, and therefore he is vulnerable. I will NOT take him into certain danger!"
Erestor regarded his friend from under hooded eyes. Glorfindel seemed, to those who did not know him well, to have a sunny disposition and an open character. His blue eyes could look completely guileless when he wanted, and he did possess a strange innocence, despite his many experiences. But that candid look had never fooled Erestor into believing that it was all there was to Glorfindel. He had been suspicious of him for years after he showed up at Imladris one day, seemingly out of the blue, claiming to be the famous balrog slayer of Gondolin. Although a few elves had sworn to his identity, Erestor had argued vociferously with Elrond against accepting him into his service. It had been to no avail, but he had made it his business to watch him closely thereafter. He had only decided to trust him after Glorfindel saved Elrond from the attack of a huge orc at Barad-dur, which Erestor had seen coming but been too far away to prevent. Yet he had never allowed himself to believe, no matter how close they later became, that he knew all of the seneschal's secrets. "Elrohir was supposed to die?"
"I told you, I don't have time to explain. You must trust me, and help restrain him!"
Erestor cocked an eyebrow and struggled to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was not entirely successful. "How quickly you forget. Elrohir was always less obvious than his brother, but he was also quite the prankster not so long ago. Have you forgotten his dare to Elladan? To see which of them could free themselves first from the restraints he cajoled the servants into putting on them? Poor Elladan was left tied to a chair in the map room for the better part of the day before I found him. He was livid, as it had only taken Elrohir about fifteen minutes to get loose, and from Lorien rope at that! So tell me, what exactly do you plan to use as restraints?"
"I don't know, but there must be a way. He HAS to be persuaded to remain, or the prophecy may yet come true."
Erestor glanced over to the small grassy area before the cave where Camthalion was practicing his archery. He had tied the traitor to a dead tree and appeared to be using his head as a target. White fletched Lorien arrows outlined the elf's skull, most missing the flesh by only a fraction of an inch, while a terrified Tuor struggled to stay absolutely still. Erestor smiled; nice technique, as long as he didn't miss. Then again, that would not be so terrible either. "I have an idea."
* * *
Celeborn waited with ten of his Galadrim in the branches of the trees near the edge of the woods. In front of them was an open space of perhaps eighty yards where no trees grew. Bright sunlight cascaded over the pretty green sward, causing the flowers nestled amid tufts of grass to reach their heads hungrily towards the sky. It was perfect, too bad that it would shortly be covered with corpses. Still, after the day he had had, Celeborn was beginning to see the beauty in a pile of dead orcs--as long as it was a very large pile.
He tensed as he heard the sounds of the approaching swarm. They were so confident in their numbers that they did not bother to even attempt stealth. Not that it would have mattered; the trees were proving very cooperative in giving warning of their approach. They had a vested interest in seeing the creatures that despoiled their woods on a regular basis were forced to pay for it. Celeborn had never really realised before just how vindictive trees could be. He smiled; he would have to make sure the mallyrn didn't hear about this; no sense giving them ideas.
Just then the huge party of orcs, at least five hundred strong, burst into the open, complaining foully about the light as they tried to shield their eyes with hands and loose bits of cloth. Celeborn had never known exactly how well orcs could see in daylight, but considering some of the complaints they had been making about the dim light under the trees, he did not think it was very well. He had taken the chance that the bright sunlight of midday would all but blind them, and it seemed he had been right. The leaders struggled on in the general direction of the woods on the far side of the field, but their wavering steps made it obvious that they were pushing on in the correct direction from memory rather than sight. The blinded soldiers behind them kept crashing into the leaders and each other, their curses and shouts echoing around the forest.
Holding up a hand to prevent his elves from moving too soon, Celeborn calmly waited for the stinking mass to fully leave the shelter of the trees before giving the signal to attack. Just then he felt a caressing hand on his shoulder. He was so wound up that he almost gave the signal too early in his surprise. What elf would dare be so overly familiar with him? He glanced back to see Thranduil's large grin lighting up the gloom. He should have known; nothing seemed to phase the Mirkwood king's good humour. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying himself.
"My groups have killed almost a thousand already, Celeborn. What's your total?"
Celeborn surprised himself by not being angry, either at the implication that he must certainly have tallied up less, or at the warm hand that showed no sign of being withdrawn. There was something impressive about Thranduil's simple, almost childlike enthusiasm for the hunt. He was so different from the more formal elves around whom Celeborn spent most of his time that, despite his tendency to be extremely annoying on a frequent basis, his company was quite refreshing. All of a sudden Celeborn caught some of the king's pleasure in the chase. "About to surpass yours. Attack!"
Celeborn fell from the tree as he spoke, landing on the back of the large orc that had paused directly beneath him. It was the last of a few stragglers who had been loath to leave the trees. It needn't have worried about being uncomfortable on its way across the field; with a stroke of his knives, Celeborn made certain it never left the shadows.
Killing the rest of the orcs was almost depressingly easy, as they were as good as blinded in the sunlight. The work was quickly done, but there was no time to rest. Thousands more were making their way slowly but steadily towards Lorien. They were yet four days travel away by horse, so at least double that on foot, but the thought gave Celeborn little ease of mind. Like elves, orcs could travel for long periods without rest, thereby cutting the distance, and as soon as night came, their sharp eyes would be more than a match for those of the elves. They had to kill as many as possible before twilight fell, and then find some way to track them through the darkness without having them use the night as the elves had used the day to blind their enemies. It was going to be a long fight.
* * *
Gil-Galad looked into the steady blue gaze of the blond elf opposite him, and tried to think. How to explain all that had passed, or at least as much as he remembered of it, to anyone in the ridiculous space of two minutes? How to put into words that which he longed only to forget once more? But he had to try, or all hope was lost and Elrond would surely die.
"Do you know what happened to Sauron after the Last Alliance?"
The elf who Gildor had called Haldir narrowed his eyes and looked suspicious. "Everyone does. Why do you speak of this?"
"Because everyone is wrong." Gil-Galad glanced back at the combatants as he spoke. Elrond was weakening and his opponent was not slow in pressing his advantage. There was no time for diplomacy under the circumstances. "Sauron knew he could not triumph over Middle earth as long as the elvish forces remained strong, but he had not succeeded in besting us in war, even at the height of his power, so how could he hope to do so as a disembodied spirit? He decided that what he could not win by force he would take by stealth and cunning. He had one of his servants, the Lord of the Nazgul, assemble an army and equip them with mithril weapons from a secret mine. The army is finally ready and is on its way here now. It is to attack from without while he destroys from within. His plan is to bring all elves under his control by taking on the guise of someone they will follow without question."
"No elf would follow Sauron. You lie."
"Not knowingly follow, no, but has not Sauron deceived elves before while in disguise? He came once as the deceiver Annatar, and was prevented from gaining complete control then only because Cirdan discerned his true nature, as did I."
"And who are you, to be so wise?"
Gil-Galad hesitated, but he preferred not to reveal his real name if it could be avoided. Under the circumstances, it could backfire and insure that nothing else he said was taken seriously. These two had never known him, so why should they believe him to be the High King, one they had been taught was long dead? He settled for a vague truth. "Not who I once was. Sauron has long been with me, been a part of me, because of the witchcraft of the Lord of the Nazgul. No one can live with his presence and not be altered by it. That is why you MUST kill me, for I cannot control him much longer, and as soon as he breaks free, I will not be able to determine my actions. He is a great deceiver, and good at reading the hearts of others. Wearing my face, he will be able to convince most of the elves to follow him anywhere, even into certain destruction."
Haldir regarded the elf in front of him with puzzlement. His words were those of a lunatic, but his face was earnest. Haldir had no trouble believing that this elf genuinely thought he was telling the truth, but no one could believe such a tale. "You say Sauron is a part of you?"
"Not a part exactly, no, but he has long resided with me, for his soul took up residence in my body many years ago. He used every trick imaginable to delude me into following his lead." Gil-Galad could tell that Haldir did not believe him; the skepticism on his face was obvious, and he was glancing towards the combatants with increased frequency. As much as he hated to hurry this, for it would sound even more odd without adequate background, he had no choice. "Sauron found that he could not break my will, so he tried to weaken my resolve by punishing me in the mines. Over the centuries, he destroyed much of my memory and greatly weakened me physically, but it was only recently as I neared death that he gained a tenuous hold over me. He did not dare to wait to try and strengthen it for fear that I would die and he would be again without physical form. So the Nazgul ordered the guards to let Elwyyda escape, knowing that she would tell her story and my people would come for me."
"Enough of this!" Haldir interrupted as Lord Elrond was sent spinning into a large urn. It shattered, scattering earth and plant material all over the previously pristine floor. "I do not know what illness afflicts your mind, but there is no more time for talk!" Haldir grabbed Zirak and thrust the sword into Gildor's hands. "Do what you must, but have a care--that one is skilled, whoever he is."
"No!" Gil-Galad managed to put a restraining hand on the sword as Gildor tried to move past him. "You must not! That is Sauron himself that Elrond faces, and I can do no more than I already have to restrain him. If you try to help you will only be killed! But if you destroy me, Sauron's spirit has no way to deceive the elves. He cannot use another body, for all of the other high-ranking elves he captured were killed when he tried to merge with them. I alone managed to survive the process. The only others who still live are those he considered beneath his notice. If I die, it will take him centuries, possibly millennia, to return, if he manages to do so at all!"
Gildor paid no attention, but wrested the sword from Gil-Galad's grasp while Haldir pulled him back by arms wrapped firmly about his waist. Seeing that Gildor meant to foolishly go to his death and being unable in his weakened state to break Haldir's hold, the king played his last card. People had often said that he could command armies with his voice alone, and that his presence was almost a tangible thing. Gil-Galad himself had always believed that that had more to do with the position he occupied than any inherent trait, but now he hoped he had been wrong. "Stop! I am Erenion Gil-Galad, last of the High Kings of the Noldor!" Gildor spun around at his proclamation, his expression one of shock, awe and dawning comprehension. "You are obviously Noldorin, Gildor, so you and all your family owe me allegiance! As your lord and king I command you, kill me now!"
* * *
TBC
Author: Rune Dancer
Rating: R
Paring: Thranduil/Celeborn/Elrond; Elrohir/Glorfindel; Haldir/Gildor; Elladan/Orophin
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plotline.
Warnings: BDSM.
A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Unspoken story arc. Read them in order--Unspoken/Revelations/Changes/One Last Time/Quid Pro Quo--or prepare to be confused.
* * *
The cave was just a cave, and a boring one at that--nothing more than a small round indentation in the rock situated behind a narrow crevice. It could have been where Tuor met his mysterious stranger, or it could have been simply a hole in the wall; there was no way to tell. One thing seemed certain, however; it did not contain an alternate route into the mountain. Erestor backed Tuor dangerously close to the ledge by the cave's entrance, to the point where his heels were actually dangling off the edge, before politely asking why he had deceived them. Tuor swallowed, but his voice was steady when he replied.
"I assumed there was an entrance to the mines here, since this is where I met my . . . contacts, but I never actually saw one."
Erestor considered pushing him off the side of the mountain, just to see how many bumps he would take on the way down, and something of his thoughts must have shown in his eyes, for Tuor blanched visibly. After letting him worry for a few seconds, Erestor released him. He had received the impression that Glorfindel had some sort of plans for Tuor, and he made it a point never to interfere with someone else's revenge.
Erestor was loath to try the same entrance as on their previous trip, as their killing of the guards on the way out must have made it obvious that they knew about it. Surely, after the recent battle, the entrance would be well fortified. But when a painstaking search of the cave disclosed no other way into the mines, he reluctantly agreed that they had no choice. There was no way to tell how long it would be before the main body of orcs returned, and they had to be long gone by then. "With any luck, our enemies will assume that we would never try that way again." Erestor raised a brow but did not bother to contradict Glorfindel, who was obviously trying to raise the elves' morale.
Erestor was soon distracted from his gloomy thoughts by an argument that flared up between Glorfindel and Elrohir. They were whispering, albeit in rather savage undertones, but it was easy enough for elvish ears to hear them. Erestor bustled the other elves out of the cavern, giving Camthalion orders to personally watch over Tuor as he did so, then returned to the cave to mediate. How these two had ever managed to be a couple for centuries without killing each other and everyone else around them was a continual source of amazement to him. There was certainly nothing tepid about their relationship.
" . . . and that is final!" Glorfindel was looking as livid as Erestor could ever remember seeing him as he glowered at his young companion.
"I have passed my majority. You can no longer order me about." Elrohir looked calmer than his lover at the moment, his face almost serene, but Erestor did not take heart from that fact. He remembered the expression well from the elf's childhood; it denoted that he had made up his mind and was no longer even considering another point of view. Erestor had found that arguing with him when he wore that face was an exercise in futility. The Peredhils could be the most stubborn elves in all of Arda when they chose, and it was clear that Elrohir had done so.
"I am not going to argue with you, Elrohir. If you attempt to follow us you will be tied to a tree and left there!"
"As orc bait?" Erestor decided to take the plunge. If they had a common source of irritation in him, perhaps they would stop looking daggers at each other.
"Stay out of this, Erestor."
Erestor would have liked to oblige, as he did not normally tease his friend when he was in a mood, but he had little choice. Valuable time was being wasted while they argued. "We must go, Glorfindel. The longer we wait, the greater risk we take. What seems to be the problem?"
Elrohir answered for him, looking disgusted. "Glorfindel wants me to remain behind with the wounded!"
"You are our only healer! They require your attention."
Elrohir shrugged off his lover's comment. "None is in any danger, as I told you. I have dressed their wounds, all they need now is a little time to recover. Even at the moment, though, they are perfectly capable of defending themselves against a small band of orcs, and if a larger group was to come across them, what use would one more elf be? As long as they stay out of sight, they should be fine."
Erestor personally agreed with this assessment, but it was clear that Glorfindel did not. He was being unusually protective, which was odd as Elrohir had demonstrated that he was able to defend himself nicely even without his memories. He had fought well in the orc attack several days before--Erestor had been quite proud of him--and a number of Elrohir's arrows had been sticking out of orc bodies in the glade that morning. It was probable that Elrohir would be safer outside the mines rather than in, but it was also true that they needed every elf for this plan to have a chance at success.
"You need me," Elrohir was saying, echoing Erestor's thoughts. "You don't know what we'll find in the mines, and our numbers are small enough already."
"I don't care," Glorfindel began, and Elrohir's face flushed with anger at the command in his lover's tone.
"Glorfindel, if I might speak with you for a moment?" Erestor grabbed his friend's arm and forcibly towed him out of the cave to a spot in the forest some distance away. "Are you quite mad?"
"Let go of my arm and stop interfering!"
"I will stop interfering as soon as you stop acting like an idiot. One is enough for our party, don't you think? Or is Tuor's madness catching? You know perfectly well that the hard line approach is unlikely to work with Elrohir."
"I will not permit him to come with us--it is too risky. I meant what I said, Erestor--I will tie him up if I have to and leave the wounded with orders to do whatever is necessary to keep him from following us. Even a slight injury would be better than . . . "
"So now you are planning to break his leg while we are surrounded by orcs and could be ambushed at any moment? What has he done that you wish him dead?"
Glorfindel looked truly haggard for a moment as he ran a distracted hand through his hair. His braids were less than their usual perfection and his eyes looked tormented. "His death is what I am trying to avoid! He CANNOT come, Erestor." He sighed, "I do not have time to explain right now, but as strange as it may sound, Elrohir was supposed to die today. I prevented it, altered the way things were meant to happen, but now I am consumed by fear that I actually only delayed them. He has not yet realised fully who he is, and therefore he is vulnerable. I will NOT take him into certain danger!"
Erestor regarded his friend from under hooded eyes. Glorfindel seemed, to those who did not know him well, to have a sunny disposition and an open character. His blue eyes could look completely guileless when he wanted, and he did possess a strange innocence, despite his many experiences. But that candid look had never fooled Erestor into believing that it was all there was to Glorfindel. He had been suspicious of him for years after he showed up at Imladris one day, seemingly out of the blue, claiming to be the famous balrog slayer of Gondolin. Although a few elves had sworn to his identity, Erestor had argued vociferously with Elrond against accepting him into his service. It had been to no avail, but he had made it his business to watch him closely thereafter. He had only decided to trust him after Glorfindel saved Elrond from the attack of a huge orc at Barad-dur, which Erestor had seen coming but been too far away to prevent. Yet he had never allowed himself to believe, no matter how close they later became, that he knew all of the seneschal's secrets. "Elrohir was supposed to die?"
"I told you, I don't have time to explain. You must trust me, and help restrain him!"
Erestor cocked an eyebrow and struggled to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was not entirely successful. "How quickly you forget. Elrohir was always less obvious than his brother, but he was also quite the prankster not so long ago. Have you forgotten his dare to Elladan? To see which of them could free themselves first from the restraints he cajoled the servants into putting on them? Poor Elladan was left tied to a chair in the map room for the better part of the day before I found him. He was livid, as it had only taken Elrohir about fifteen minutes to get loose, and from Lorien rope at that! So tell me, what exactly do you plan to use as restraints?"
"I don't know, but there must be a way. He HAS to be persuaded to remain, or the prophecy may yet come true."
Erestor glanced over to the small grassy area before the cave where Camthalion was practicing his archery. He had tied the traitor to a dead tree and appeared to be using his head as a target. White fletched Lorien arrows outlined the elf's skull, most missing the flesh by only a fraction of an inch, while a terrified Tuor struggled to stay absolutely still. Erestor smiled; nice technique, as long as he didn't miss. Then again, that would not be so terrible either. "I have an idea."
* * *
Celeborn waited with ten of his Galadrim in the branches of the trees near the edge of the woods. In front of them was an open space of perhaps eighty yards where no trees grew. Bright sunlight cascaded over the pretty green sward, causing the flowers nestled amid tufts of grass to reach their heads hungrily towards the sky. It was perfect, too bad that it would shortly be covered with corpses. Still, after the day he had had, Celeborn was beginning to see the beauty in a pile of dead orcs--as long as it was a very large pile.
He tensed as he heard the sounds of the approaching swarm. They were so confident in their numbers that they did not bother to even attempt stealth. Not that it would have mattered; the trees were proving very cooperative in giving warning of their approach. They had a vested interest in seeing the creatures that despoiled their woods on a regular basis were forced to pay for it. Celeborn had never really realised before just how vindictive trees could be. He smiled; he would have to make sure the mallyrn didn't hear about this; no sense giving them ideas.
Just then the huge party of orcs, at least five hundred strong, burst into the open, complaining foully about the light as they tried to shield their eyes with hands and loose bits of cloth. Celeborn had never known exactly how well orcs could see in daylight, but considering some of the complaints they had been making about the dim light under the trees, he did not think it was very well. He had taken the chance that the bright sunlight of midday would all but blind them, and it seemed he had been right. The leaders struggled on in the general direction of the woods on the far side of the field, but their wavering steps made it obvious that they were pushing on in the correct direction from memory rather than sight. The blinded soldiers behind them kept crashing into the leaders and each other, their curses and shouts echoing around the forest.
Holding up a hand to prevent his elves from moving too soon, Celeborn calmly waited for the stinking mass to fully leave the shelter of the trees before giving the signal to attack. Just then he felt a caressing hand on his shoulder. He was so wound up that he almost gave the signal too early in his surprise. What elf would dare be so overly familiar with him? He glanced back to see Thranduil's large grin lighting up the gloom. He should have known; nothing seemed to phase the Mirkwood king's good humour. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying himself.
"My groups have killed almost a thousand already, Celeborn. What's your total?"
Celeborn surprised himself by not being angry, either at the implication that he must certainly have tallied up less, or at the warm hand that showed no sign of being withdrawn. There was something impressive about Thranduil's simple, almost childlike enthusiasm for the hunt. He was so different from the more formal elves around whom Celeborn spent most of his time that, despite his tendency to be extremely annoying on a frequent basis, his company was quite refreshing. All of a sudden Celeborn caught some of the king's pleasure in the chase. "About to surpass yours. Attack!"
Celeborn fell from the tree as he spoke, landing on the back of the large orc that had paused directly beneath him. It was the last of a few stragglers who had been loath to leave the trees. It needn't have worried about being uncomfortable on its way across the field; with a stroke of his knives, Celeborn made certain it never left the shadows.
Killing the rest of the orcs was almost depressingly easy, as they were as good as blinded in the sunlight. The work was quickly done, but there was no time to rest. Thousands more were making their way slowly but steadily towards Lorien. They were yet four days travel away by horse, so at least double that on foot, but the thought gave Celeborn little ease of mind. Like elves, orcs could travel for long periods without rest, thereby cutting the distance, and as soon as night came, their sharp eyes would be more than a match for those of the elves. They had to kill as many as possible before twilight fell, and then find some way to track them through the darkness without having them use the night as the elves had used the day to blind their enemies. It was going to be a long fight.
* * *
Gil-Galad looked into the steady blue gaze of the blond elf opposite him, and tried to think. How to explain all that had passed, or at least as much as he remembered of it, to anyone in the ridiculous space of two minutes? How to put into words that which he longed only to forget once more? But he had to try, or all hope was lost and Elrond would surely die.
"Do you know what happened to Sauron after the Last Alliance?"
The elf who Gildor had called Haldir narrowed his eyes and looked suspicious. "Everyone does. Why do you speak of this?"
"Because everyone is wrong." Gil-Galad glanced back at the combatants as he spoke. Elrond was weakening and his opponent was not slow in pressing his advantage. There was no time for diplomacy under the circumstances. "Sauron knew he could not triumph over Middle earth as long as the elvish forces remained strong, but he had not succeeded in besting us in war, even at the height of his power, so how could he hope to do so as a disembodied spirit? He decided that what he could not win by force he would take by stealth and cunning. He had one of his servants, the Lord of the Nazgul, assemble an army and equip them with mithril weapons from a secret mine. The army is finally ready and is on its way here now. It is to attack from without while he destroys from within. His plan is to bring all elves under his control by taking on the guise of someone they will follow without question."
"No elf would follow Sauron. You lie."
"Not knowingly follow, no, but has not Sauron deceived elves before while in disguise? He came once as the deceiver Annatar, and was prevented from gaining complete control then only because Cirdan discerned his true nature, as did I."
"And who are you, to be so wise?"
Gil-Galad hesitated, but he preferred not to reveal his real name if it could be avoided. Under the circumstances, it could backfire and insure that nothing else he said was taken seriously. These two had never known him, so why should they believe him to be the High King, one they had been taught was long dead? He settled for a vague truth. "Not who I once was. Sauron has long been with me, been a part of me, because of the witchcraft of the Lord of the Nazgul. No one can live with his presence and not be altered by it. That is why you MUST kill me, for I cannot control him much longer, and as soon as he breaks free, I will not be able to determine my actions. He is a great deceiver, and good at reading the hearts of others. Wearing my face, he will be able to convince most of the elves to follow him anywhere, even into certain destruction."
Haldir regarded the elf in front of him with puzzlement. His words were those of a lunatic, but his face was earnest. Haldir had no trouble believing that this elf genuinely thought he was telling the truth, but no one could believe such a tale. "You say Sauron is a part of you?"
"Not a part exactly, no, but he has long resided with me, for his soul took up residence in my body many years ago. He used every trick imaginable to delude me into following his lead." Gil-Galad could tell that Haldir did not believe him; the skepticism on his face was obvious, and he was glancing towards the combatants with increased frequency. As much as he hated to hurry this, for it would sound even more odd without adequate background, he had no choice. "Sauron found that he could not break my will, so he tried to weaken my resolve by punishing me in the mines. Over the centuries, he destroyed much of my memory and greatly weakened me physically, but it was only recently as I neared death that he gained a tenuous hold over me. He did not dare to wait to try and strengthen it for fear that I would die and he would be again without physical form. So the Nazgul ordered the guards to let Elwyyda escape, knowing that she would tell her story and my people would come for me."
"Enough of this!" Haldir interrupted as Lord Elrond was sent spinning into a large urn. It shattered, scattering earth and plant material all over the previously pristine floor. "I do not know what illness afflicts your mind, but there is no more time for talk!" Haldir grabbed Zirak and thrust the sword into Gildor's hands. "Do what you must, but have a care--that one is skilled, whoever he is."
"No!" Gil-Galad managed to put a restraining hand on the sword as Gildor tried to move past him. "You must not! That is Sauron himself that Elrond faces, and I can do no more than I already have to restrain him. If you try to help you will only be killed! But if you destroy me, Sauron's spirit has no way to deceive the elves. He cannot use another body, for all of the other high-ranking elves he captured were killed when he tried to merge with them. I alone managed to survive the process. The only others who still live are those he considered beneath his notice. If I die, it will take him centuries, possibly millennia, to return, if he manages to do so at all!"
Gildor paid no attention, but wrested the sword from Gil-Galad's grasp while Haldir pulled him back by arms wrapped firmly about his waist. Seeing that Gildor meant to foolishly go to his death and being unable in his weakened state to break Haldir's hold, the king played his last card. People had often said that he could command armies with his voice alone, and that his presence was almost a tangible thing. Gil-Galad himself had always believed that that had more to do with the position he occupied than any inherent trait, but now he hoped he had been wrong. "Stop! I am Erenion Gil-Galad, last of the High Kings of the Noldor!" Gildor spun around at his proclamation, his expression one of shock, awe and dawning comprehension. "You are obviously Noldorin, Gildor, so you and all your family owe me allegiance! As your lord and king I command you, kill me now!"
* * *
TBC