Title: Wild Justice 32/?
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.
* * *
Elrond swirled his wine about in his glass and smiled at it. Lately, he had been smiling at everything--walls, light fixtures, the vase of roses in his chambers--he almost felt like he could smile at an orc, should one happen by. For the first time in years, he actually felt at peace. There were no more ghosts haunting his dreams, no more restlessness, no more guilt. He could not recall the last time he had felt this light--it was almost like intoxication, only much, much better.
"You look happy."
Elrond looked up at Gil-Galad, seated in a comfortable chair near his own, and his smile grew even wider. They were back in Lindon, of course--they would always be in Lindon now, and it would never fade, but be forever as beautiful and tranquil as he remembered it. They sat in his old bedchamber, which they had decided to use communally as there were no longer any nosy servants to fool or bothersome courtiers to evade. Delicious freedom! Elrond couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. "I was just thinking how many times I had to stuff myself into that cursed wardrobe in your chambers, when someone came by unannounced. Remember Titton dropping in and spending three quarters of an hour droning on about suspected tax evasion by the sheepherders in the southern reaches? My foot went to sleep and I almost did, too, waiting for him to finish. I can just picture his face if I had tumbled out of your wardrobe and landed nude at his feet!"
"He probably wouldn't have noticed; he did tend to be very focused when making a report."
Elrond chuckled. "He must have been drinking! Even Titton knew better than to intrude at eleven at night for such a trivial reason . . . " He stopped at the king's abashed expression. "You never told me! Stuffy old Titton was . . . enamored with you?"
"I suppose that is one way of putting it." Gil-Galad smiled and shrugged. "You never liked him, but the two of you were important councilors and needed to work together. Yes, Elrond," he held up a hand, "I know he could be a terrible bore at times, but he was also meticulous with his reports and one of the best record keepers I ever knew. Everyone always praised my memory, but in reality it was very rarely called upon. Titton was always there with any information I needed in short order, even something going back hundreds of years. He was invaluable that way. I did not want the two of you to be at odds any more than you already were, so I didn't mention his occasional . . . advances."
"Advances!" Elrond shook his head in disbelief. The idea of stodgy old Titton making an advance on anyone, much less the High King, was truly absurd. Still, it did bring up an interesting question. "When he helped to arrange your marriage, did he know . . . ?"
Gil-Galad shrugged. "I never asked him, but I would assume so. He was never the most observant of elves, although he could spot a scroll out of place in the library in the blink of an eye. But he must have wondered why I continually spurned him. It could have been a subtle form of revenge, I suppose; the idea did occur to me at the time."
"But you said nothing."
The king smiled and let his fingers intertwine with Elrond's. "That was always the difference between us. You wanted to know the why of everything. But no one can keep track of all that goes on, especially in other people's minds. It is too tiring to even try."
"You are so serene." Elrond felt the old soothing calm pour from their linked hands and spread throughout him. He did not know how he had survived so long without it.
"Of course. I could afford to be. I had you to do my worrying for me!"
"But there is nothing to worry about any more. For us, there never will be again."
The king kissed Elrond's hand briefly and let it go. "Except the small matter of my funeral tomorrow. It will be an interesting experience to attend. I had always expected to be there, but not consciously so!"
Elrond felt his smile fade slightly and he unconsciously gripped the king's hand again. "I could make an excuse not to attend. I don't want you to feel . . ."
"It will not bother me, Elrond! After my time with Sauron, I would have looked on death as a blessed release, I assure you. But you have saved me even from that eventuality." He drew Elrond to his feet and kissed him lightly. "I am glad you are not angry with me for what I did. Most people would have felt it to be a terrible invasion of privacy."
Elrond stroked fingers down the king's back, marveling at how solid, how real, he felt in his arms. "Having you with me like this is pure bliss. I would not have had you act otherwise, you know that."
The king smiled, and drew him toward the bed. "I did not have time to ask your permission, so I am relieved you feel that way." He pulled Elrond close and gently smoothed his lover's hair. "But something worries you--I can tell. You cannot hide things from me now, you know."
Elrond allowed himself to be divested of his night robe as he tried to think how to phrase his reply. Now that they were joined, Gil-Galad could have simply read his thoughts had he wished to do so, yet Elrond knew the king would never take that liberty without permission. He smiled as his lover began kissing his way down his chest. Such an intrusive action would not even occur to the king, a fact that never ceased to amaze him. Elrond could, and usually did, resist temptation, but his lord did not need such self-control; Gil-Galad simply had the purest soul he had ever known. How to tell him that he felt unworthy to bear it? That he might somehow taint the king by his sometimes foolish or ignoble thoughts? He put off that conversation, and instead admitted to a smaller concern. "Gildor knows."
"Yes, I saw that on his face, too. The dear child is not good at hiding his feelings, is he?"
Elrond was having trouble keeping up with the conversation, as the king's head continued downward. He had had many lovers in the years since he lost Gil-Galad, but none had even come close to taking his place. Being back with him again was breathtaking, exhilarating and completely satisfying. Elrond didn't care if he never woke up.
Elrond pushed the problem from his mind; after all, what could Gildor do? "We'll worry about him tomorrow." His smile returned at the thought that, from now on, everything they did would be "we."
* * *
Elrohir looked at the kneeling figure before him and tried to say something in response to the elf's absurd declaration, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth so that he would no longer be gaping like a fish, and swallowed, feeling dizzy. Ok, he thought, pull yourself together, Elrohir. Deep in a mine filled with orcs is hardly the place to fall apart. Get them out of here, find Glorfindel and the others, and THEN you can have a nice nervous breakdown all by yourself. No, DON'T think about Erestor's crazy comments; don't think at all, just get them out!
Elrohir cleared his throat and tried again. "We have to get out of here, before anyone comes to check on you. Do any of you know the way back?" Elrohir had tried to keep track of the winding turns himself, but he really hoped one of them had a better idea of the way to the exit than he did.
"I do." The elf at his feet looked up, and despite the emaciated appearance and general filthiness of his attire, there was something reassuring about him. He did look as if he knew what he was talking about. "I tried to escape once, long ago, and almost made it before they caught me. But first we must be released from these." He held up a manacled arm, which had a large, heavy looking chain attached to it. His shackles were clipped to those of the elf nearest him, whose chains were in turn fastened to the elf beside him and so on. Many of them also wore heavy iron bands about their bony necks, which looked horribly painful to Elrohir.
"Hold still," he told the kneeling elf, and rummaged around in his tunic until he found one of Erestor's skeleton keys. He had liberated it from the chatelaine's huge key ring a year ago, needing to move about Imladris at night without running into all sorts of barriers. Erestor had a fetish about locking things up; even the baths in Elrohir's wing of the palace were routinely closed after midnight, once the security guards made their final rounds. That had never made any sense to Elrohir--what in Arda did Erestor expect to go missing from the bath chambers, a marble sink perhaps? But the key allowed him easy access without having to explain why he needed to bathe in the middle of the night. He only hoped it would work here, as he doubted his sword or knives would be much use against solid iron. "There, that's done it. Now you." Elrohir motioned the next elf closer after Erestor's key worked its magic on the first one's chains, and soon they were all rubbing their wrists and necks gratefully.
"All right. Which way?' Elrohir turned back to the first elf, who was regarding him with a tentative look. "You did say you knew the way out."
"Yes, my lord, I believe I do." The elf hesitated, and Elrohir grew impatient.
"Well, go ahead, lead us out of here."
"Very well, this way," the elf moved towards the passage, and the others followed him unquestioningly, but Elrohir noticed that he kept glancing back with a worried frown on his face. Normally, Elrohir would have asked what was wrong, but at the moment, he really didn't think he wanted to know. There was a pressure building in his neck and the base of his skull, like a headache waiting to erupt, and it became worse every time he even thought about letting any of his many questions batter their way to the front of his mind. He squashed them down, and when he saw a familiar sunlit day shining to him from the end of a corridor, he resolutely looked in the other direction. You are far underground, he reminded himself, and it is just an illusion, a trick of the mind. He was NOT going to start hallucinating again, not now at any rate. Whatever was wrong with him would just have to wait until he could get back to Lorien and see Ada. Suddenly, he very much wished his father were with him.
The elf did seem to know where he was going, however, and easily led them through the tunnels without hardly a pause to reorient himself. Elrohir was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not notice anything wrong until they passed through a large cavern with a pool in the centre that reflected hanging stalactites in the still water, making it look rather like a gaping mouth when seen from the ledge above.
"Wait." Elrohir grabbed the elf's arm, preventing him from moving forward any further. "I know I didn't come this way. I think you're lost."
"No," the elf struggled in his grip, "this is the way out. I promise you!"
"No, it isn't. You're confused."
"I think we should listen to Lord Ecthelion." Lothion piped up from behind Elrohir, and was seconded by several other elves.
"Don't call me that." Elrohir sighed. He didn't have time for this right now. "Let's just go back and see where we made a wrong turn. It can't be that difficult to find the right way." He only hoped his words were true, although he no longer had any real idea where they were. He shouldn't have let someone else lead, so it was partially his fault. That's what came of daydreaming, but the cursed images filling his brain were becoming harder and harder to ignore.
The elf who had been leading them suddenly collapsed at Elrohir's feet, sobbing wildly. Elrohir looked at him with incomprehension for an instant--what was wrong now? Great, he had let a mentally unstable elf guide them and now the creature was lost and so were they. Elbereth help us, he thought fervently; it was only a matter of time before the orcs found them, and they had only his and Tuor's weapons for the whole group. Not that any of them looked much able to fight anyway.
"I . . . I am sorry, my lord, I should have told you! But I can't just leave him, and I thought you might say no!"
Elrohir sighed. He was absolutely certain he didn't want to hear this. Why was nothing EVER simple? "Leave who?"
"The elf that . . . other one . . . was asking about. My liege lord and cousin, King Oropher."
"King Oropher?" Elrohir's mind reeled. But surely that was just a fantasy of Tuor's diseased brain? Certainly Oropher himself could not be here, could he?
"I know we need to escape, lord, but I am sworn to protect him, and I failed. I let him be taken at Barad-dur, and now I MUST help him! I will not leave without him!"
What followed was a cacophony of questions, comments and loud complaints from the other elves, many of whom were Sindar and had apparently not been told that their king was a prisoner. Elrohir eventually managed to calm them down, even though he personally agreed with most of their pointed comments towards the elf at his feet, who was called Amras. "He made me swear not to tell you," Amras cried, cowering and looking fearfully behind him at the enraged elves. "He thought it would only add to your torture, if you knew your king was here also!"
"All right, enough!" Elrohir dragged him back to his feet and glowered at all of them. "Do you know the way out--and don't lie to me!"
"Y-yes, lord."
"Then take these others and lead them to safety. You will find three elves just beyond the cave entrance, if you go out the way I described to you. They have food and water and will aid you. Stay with them and stay out of sight. I will find Oropher and bring him out with me."
There was, of course, a great deal of argument about this, but Elrohir's somewhat unkind comments that the elves could be of little use to him in their current state eventually persuaded them, and they agreed to do as he asked. He spent a few minutes questioning Amras about the probable location of the king, then equipped him with Tuor's weapons and watched him lead the others back up the corridor. He leaned against the cave wall and tried to concentrate on the receding sound of their light footfalls and nothing else. He wouldn't put it past Amras, who had looked a bit crazed when Elrohir demanded that he leave Oropher's rescue to him, to double back and attempt to help with the liberation of his lord. In the elf's current state, that would be tantamount to suicide.
Elrohir tried not to think of how bleak his own situation was at the moment, alone, surrounded by a merciless enemy who could discover him at any time, and probably more mentally unstable than Amras would ever be. As if in response to his thoughts, a sudden portal opened in the dark cavern, spilling light everywhere and showing a scene that he remembered from his history books, but which could not possibly be real. Yes, he thought, as another time engulfed him, you are definitely barking mad, old son.
*** All around him, people screamed and ran. A fruit vendor had his stall upset by the frantic crowd as he was trying to stuff as much of his wares as possible into baskets draped over the back of a mule, and apples and pears scattered everywhere, tripping people up and adding to the general chaos. A plump elf-wife, her arms full of hastily thrown together bundles, careened into him after tripping over the scattered fruit, and Elrohir barely managed to keep her on her feet. After sending her on her way, he grabbed the back of the vendor's collar and shouted into his ear.
"Get out of here! Leave your fruit--are a few baskets of apples worth your life? Just go, while you still can!" The elf looked at him wildly for a second, then stumbled off into the teeming throng, pulling his loudly braying mule behind him.
"Lord Ecthelion, the North Gate is under assault!" A young elf from Glorfindel's house skidded to a stop in front of him. Elrohir knew his face, but the elf's name eluded him.
"Where is your lord; why is he not helping to reinforce the gate?"
"I do not know, lord. The last time I saw him, he bade me help look for the princess. The king has charged him with getting her away safely, but she was not in her palace rooms."
Elrohir nodded. "Obey your lord; I will see to the gate." As the elf ran off, his white and gold uniform bright despite the drifts of smoke clouding the scene, Elrohir breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, Glorfindel, he thought as he began rounding up his elves and turning the chaos into something resembling an organised defense, get the princess out. For if you are leading her away from the city, that means you will be safe also. Having learned that his lover would soon be well away from the burning city and free from danger, Elrohir turned his mind completely on making their enemies pay a dear price for the taking of Gondolin.**
Elrohir clutched the wall behind him and panted, desperately wanting to scream but not daring to make a sound. Several orcs had entered the caves, but had not yet seen him. Their coarse voices had broken him out of whatever trance he had fallen into, however, and for that he was almost grateful to them. Slipping silently behind a large stalagmite, he waited for them to pass through, scarcely even breathing. They were obviously unaware of trouble, for neither seemed to be making attempts to avoid detection. That could be either good or bad, Elrohir thought. It meant that, on the one hand, the elves he had freed had probably not been discovered yet, for certainly a general alarm would have been sounded if they were. On the other hand, however, it also meant that Glorfindel's team must not have assaulted the cave entrance yet, or else, if they had . . .
Elrohir bit back worry over his lover's fate and tried to concentrate. He could not help Glorfindel at the moment, any more than he had been able to do . . . he clamped down on that thought hard and forced it into the back of his mind. He had NOT been at the fall of Gondolin. He had not even been BORN then! He was not going to give in to madness and ruin this mission. He slapped himself hard across the face, and felt a little better. Get a grip, Elrohir, and do your duty. Find Oropher. Get him out. Then find Glorfindel and the others and do the same. Kill any orcs in your path, but do it silently. Do NOT daydream, hallucinate, or whatever you've been doing lately. Having arranged his schedule, Elrohir lurched out from his hiding place, the orcs having had sufficient head start in front of him. Just follow the plan, he told himself as he slipped into another corridor, and try to stay sane!
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.
* * *
Elrond swirled his wine about in his glass and smiled at it. Lately, he had been smiling at everything--walls, light fixtures, the vase of roses in his chambers--he almost felt like he could smile at an orc, should one happen by. For the first time in years, he actually felt at peace. There were no more ghosts haunting his dreams, no more restlessness, no more guilt. He could not recall the last time he had felt this light--it was almost like intoxication, only much, much better.
"You look happy."
Elrond looked up at Gil-Galad, seated in a comfortable chair near his own, and his smile grew even wider. They were back in Lindon, of course--they would always be in Lindon now, and it would never fade, but be forever as beautiful and tranquil as he remembered it. They sat in his old bedchamber, which they had decided to use communally as there were no longer any nosy servants to fool or bothersome courtiers to evade. Delicious freedom! Elrond couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. "I was just thinking how many times I had to stuff myself into that cursed wardrobe in your chambers, when someone came by unannounced. Remember Titton dropping in and spending three quarters of an hour droning on about suspected tax evasion by the sheepherders in the southern reaches? My foot went to sleep and I almost did, too, waiting for him to finish. I can just picture his face if I had tumbled out of your wardrobe and landed nude at his feet!"
"He probably wouldn't have noticed; he did tend to be very focused when making a report."
Elrond chuckled. "He must have been drinking! Even Titton knew better than to intrude at eleven at night for such a trivial reason . . . " He stopped at the king's abashed expression. "You never told me! Stuffy old Titton was . . . enamored with you?"
"I suppose that is one way of putting it." Gil-Galad smiled and shrugged. "You never liked him, but the two of you were important councilors and needed to work together. Yes, Elrond," he held up a hand, "I know he could be a terrible bore at times, but he was also meticulous with his reports and one of the best record keepers I ever knew. Everyone always praised my memory, but in reality it was very rarely called upon. Titton was always there with any information I needed in short order, even something going back hundreds of years. He was invaluable that way. I did not want the two of you to be at odds any more than you already were, so I didn't mention his occasional . . . advances."
"Advances!" Elrond shook his head in disbelief. The idea of stodgy old Titton making an advance on anyone, much less the High King, was truly absurd. Still, it did bring up an interesting question. "When he helped to arrange your marriage, did he know . . . ?"
Gil-Galad shrugged. "I never asked him, but I would assume so. He was never the most observant of elves, although he could spot a scroll out of place in the library in the blink of an eye. But he must have wondered why I continually spurned him. It could have been a subtle form of revenge, I suppose; the idea did occur to me at the time."
"But you said nothing."
The king smiled and let his fingers intertwine with Elrond's. "That was always the difference between us. You wanted to know the why of everything. But no one can keep track of all that goes on, especially in other people's minds. It is too tiring to even try."
"You are so serene." Elrond felt the old soothing calm pour from their linked hands and spread throughout him. He did not know how he had survived so long without it.
"Of course. I could afford to be. I had you to do my worrying for me!"
"But there is nothing to worry about any more. For us, there never will be again."
The king kissed Elrond's hand briefly and let it go. "Except the small matter of my funeral tomorrow. It will be an interesting experience to attend. I had always expected to be there, but not consciously so!"
Elrond felt his smile fade slightly and he unconsciously gripped the king's hand again. "I could make an excuse not to attend. I don't want you to feel . . ."
"It will not bother me, Elrond! After my time with Sauron, I would have looked on death as a blessed release, I assure you. But you have saved me even from that eventuality." He drew Elrond to his feet and kissed him lightly. "I am glad you are not angry with me for what I did. Most people would have felt it to be a terrible invasion of privacy."
Elrond stroked fingers down the king's back, marveling at how solid, how real, he felt in his arms. "Having you with me like this is pure bliss. I would not have had you act otherwise, you know that."
The king smiled, and drew him toward the bed. "I did not have time to ask your permission, so I am relieved you feel that way." He pulled Elrond close and gently smoothed his lover's hair. "But something worries you--I can tell. You cannot hide things from me now, you know."
Elrond allowed himself to be divested of his night robe as he tried to think how to phrase his reply. Now that they were joined, Gil-Galad could have simply read his thoughts had he wished to do so, yet Elrond knew the king would never take that liberty without permission. He smiled as his lover began kissing his way down his chest. Such an intrusive action would not even occur to the king, a fact that never ceased to amaze him. Elrond could, and usually did, resist temptation, but his lord did not need such self-control; Gil-Galad simply had the purest soul he had ever known. How to tell him that he felt unworthy to bear it? That he might somehow taint the king by his sometimes foolish or ignoble thoughts? He put off that conversation, and instead admitted to a smaller concern. "Gildor knows."
"Yes, I saw that on his face, too. The dear child is not good at hiding his feelings, is he?"
Elrond was having trouble keeping up with the conversation, as the king's head continued downward. He had had many lovers in the years since he lost Gil-Galad, but none had even come close to taking his place. Being back with him again was breathtaking, exhilarating and completely satisfying. Elrond didn't care if he never woke up.
Elrond pushed the problem from his mind; after all, what could Gildor do? "We'll worry about him tomorrow." His smile returned at the thought that, from now on, everything they did would be "we."
* * *
Elrohir looked at the kneeling figure before him and tried to say something in response to the elf's absurd declaration, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth so that he would no longer be gaping like a fish, and swallowed, feeling dizzy. Ok, he thought, pull yourself together, Elrohir. Deep in a mine filled with orcs is hardly the place to fall apart. Get them out of here, find Glorfindel and the others, and THEN you can have a nice nervous breakdown all by yourself. No, DON'T think about Erestor's crazy comments; don't think at all, just get them out!
Elrohir cleared his throat and tried again. "We have to get out of here, before anyone comes to check on you. Do any of you know the way back?" Elrohir had tried to keep track of the winding turns himself, but he really hoped one of them had a better idea of the way to the exit than he did.
"I do." The elf at his feet looked up, and despite the emaciated appearance and general filthiness of his attire, there was something reassuring about him. He did look as if he knew what he was talking about. "I tried to escape once, long ago, and almost made it before they caught me. But first we must be released from these." He held up a manacled arm, which had a large, heavy looking chain attached to it. His shackles were clipped to those of the elf nearest him, whose chains were in turn fastened to the elf beside him and so on. Many of them also wore heavy iron bands about their bony necks, which looked horribly painful to Elrohir.
"Hold still," he told the kneeling elf, and rummaged around in his tunic until he found one of Erestor's skeleton keys. He had liberated it from the chatelaine's huge key ring a year ago, needing to move about Imladris at night without running into all sorts of barriers. Erestor had a fetish about locking things up; even the baths in Elrohir's wing of the palace were routinely closed after midnight, once the security guards made their final rounds. That had never made any sense to Elrohir--what in Arda did Erestor expect to go missing from the bath chambers, a marble sink perhaps? But the key allowed him easy access without having to explain why he needed to bathe in the middle of the night. He only hoped it would work here, as he doubted his sword or knives would be much use against solid iron. "There, that's done it. Now you." Elrohir motioned the next elf closer after Erestor's key worked its magic on the first one's chains, and soon they were all rubbing their wrists and necks gratefully.
"All right. Which way?' Elrohir turned back to the first elf, who was regarding him with a tentative look. "You did say you knew the way out."
"Yes, my lord, I believe I do." The elf hesitated, and Elrohir grew impatient.
"Well, go ahead, lead us out of here."
"Very well, this way," the elf moved towards the passage, and the others followed him unquestioningly, but Elrohir noticed that he kept glancing back with a worried frown on his face. Normally, Elrohir would have asked what was wrong, but at the moment, he really didn't think he wanted to know. There was a pressure building in his neck and the base of his skull, like a headache waiting to erupt, and it became worse every time he even thought about letting any of his many questions batter their way to the front of his mind. He squashed them down, and when he saw a familiar sunlit day shining to him from the end of a corridor, he resolutely looked in the other direction. You are far underground, he reminded himself, and it is just an illusion, a trick of the mind. He was NOT going to start hallucinating again, not now at any rate. Whatever was wrong with him would just have to wait until he could get back to Lorien and see Ada. Suddenly, he very much wished his father were with him.
The elf did seem to know where he was going, however, and easily led them through the tunnels without hardly a pause to reorient himself. Elrohir was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not notice anything wrong until they passed through a large cavern with a pool in the centre that reflected hanging stalactites in the still water, making it look rather like a gaping mouth when seen from the ledge above.
"Wait." Elrohir grabbed the elf's arm, preventing him from moving forward any further. "I know I didn't come this way. I think you're lost."
"No," the elf struggled in his grip, "this is the way out. I promise you!"
"No, it isn't. You're confused."
"I think we should listen to Lord Ecthelion." Lothion piped up from behind Elrohir, and was seconded by several other elves.
"Don't call me that." Elrohir sighed. He didn't have time for this right now. "Let's just go back and see where we made a wrong turn. It can't be that difficult to find the right way." He only hoped his words were true, although he no longer had any real idea where they were. He shouldn't have let someone else lead, so it was partially his fault. That's what came of daydreaming, but the cursed images filling his brain were becoming harder and harder to ignore.
The elf who had been leading them suddenly collapsed at Elrohir's feet, sobbing wildly. Elrohir looked at him with incomprehension for an instant--what was wrong now? Great, he had let a mentally unstable elf guide them and now the creature was lost and so were they. Elbereth help us, he thought fervently; it was only a matter of time before the orcs found them, and they had only his and Tuor's weapons for the whole group. Not that any of them looked much able to fight anyway.
"I . . . I am sorry, my lord, I should have told you! But I can't just leave him, and I thought you might say no!"
Elrohir sighed. He was absolutely certain he didn't want to hear this. Why was nothing EVER simple? "Leave who?"
"The elf that . . . other one . . . was asking about. My liege lord and cousin, King Oropher."
"King Oropher?" Elrohir's mind reeled. But surely that was just a fantasy of Tuor's diseased brain? Certainly Oropher himself could not be here, could he?
"I know we need to escape, lord, but I am sworn to protect him, and I failed. I let him be taken at Barad-dur, and now I MUST help him! I will not leave without him!"
What followed was a cacophony of questions, comments and loud complaints from the other elves, many of whom were Sindar and had apparently not been told that their king was a prisoner. Elrohir eventually managed to calm them down, even though he personally agreed with most of their pointed comments towards the elf at his feet, who was called Amras. "He made me swear not to tell you," Amras cried, cowering and looking fearfully behind him at the enraged elves. "He thought it would only add to your torture, if you knew your king was here also!"
"All right, enough!" Elrohir dragged him back to his feet and glowered at all of them. "Do you know the way out--and don't lie to me!"
"Y-yes, lord."
"Then take these others and lead them to safety. You will find three elves just beyond the cave entrance, if you go out the way I described to you. They have food and water and will aid you. Stay with them and stay out of sight. I will find Oropher and bring him out with me."
There was, of course, a great deal of argument about this, but Elrohir's somewhat unkind comments that the elves could be of little use to him in their current state eventually persuaded them, and they agreed to do as he asked. He spent a few minutes questioning Amras about the probable location of the king, then equipped him with Tuor's weapons and watched him lead the others back up the corridor. He leaned against the cave wall and tried to concentrate on the receding sound of their light footfalls and nothing else. He wouldn't put it past Amras, who had looked a bit crazed when Elrohir demanded that he leave Oropher's rescue to him, to double back and attempt to help with the liberation of his lord. In the elf's current state, that would be tantamount to suicide.
Elrohir tried not to think of how bleak his own situation was at the moment, alone, surrounded by a merciless enemy who could discover him at any time, and probably more mentally unstable than Amras would ever be. As if in response to his thoughts, a sudden portal opened in the dark cavern, spilling light everywhere and showing a scene that he remembered from his history books, but which could not possibly be real. Yes, he thought, as another time engulfed him, you are definitely barking mad, old son.
*** All around him, people screamed and ran. A fruit vendor had his stall upset by the frantic crowd as he was trying to stuff as much of his wares as possible into baskets draped over the back of a mule, and apples and pears scattered everywhere, tripping people up and adding to the general chaos. A plump elf-wife, her arms full of hastily thrown together bundles, careened into him after tripping over the scattered fruit, and Elrohir barely managed to keep her on her feet. After sending her on her way, he grabbed the back of the vendor's collar and shouted into his ear.
"Get out of here! Leave your fruit--are a few baskets of apples worth your life? Just go, while you still can!" The elf looked at him wildly for a second, then stumbled off into the teeming throng, pulling his loudly braying mule behind him.
"Lord Ecthelion, the North Gate is under assault!" A young elf from Glorfindel's house skidded to a stop in front of him. Elrohir knew his face, but the elf's name eluded him.
"Where is your lord; why is he not helping to reinforce the gate?"
"I do not know, lord. The last time I saw him, he bade me help look for the princess. The king has charged him with getting her away safely, but she was not in her palace rooms."
Elrohir nodded. "Obey your lord; I will see to the gate." As the elf ran off, his white and gold uniform bright despite the drifts of smoke clouding the scene, Elrohir breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, Glorfindel, he thought as he began rounding up his elves and turning the chaos into something resembling an organised defense, get the princess out. For if you are leading her away from the city, that means you will be safe also. Having learned that his lover would soon be well away from the burning city and free from danger, Elrohir turned his mind completely on making their enemies pay a dear price for the taking of Gondolin.**
Elrohir clutched the wall behind him and panted, desperately wanting to scream but not daring to make a sound. Several orcs had entered the caves, but had not yet seen him. Their coarse voices had broken him out of whatever trance he had fallen into, however, and for that he was almost grateful to them. Slipping silently behind a large stalagmite, he waited for them to pass through, scarcely even breathing. They were obviously unaware of trouble, for neither seemed to be making attempts to avoid detection. That could be either good or bad, Elrohir thought. It meant that, on the one hand, the elves he had freed had probably not been discovered yet, for certainly a general alarm would have been sounded if they were. On the other hand, however, it also meant that Glorfindel's team must not have assaulted the cave entrance yet, or else, if they had . . .
Elrohir bit back worry over his lover's fate and tried to concentrate. He could not help Glorfindel at the moment, any more than he had been able to do . . . he clamped down on that thought hard and forced it into the back of his mind. He had NOT been at the fall of Gondolin. He had not even been BORN then! He was not going to give in to madness and ruin this mission. He slapped himself hard across the face, and felt a little better. Get a grip, Elrohir, and do your duty. Find Oropher. Get him out. Then find Glorfindel and the others and do the same. Kill any orcs in your path, but do it silently. Do NOT daydream, hallucinate, or whatever you've been doing lately. Having arranged his schedule, Elrohir lurched out from his hiding place, the orcs having had sufficient head start in front of him. Just follow the plan, he told himself as he slipped into another corridor, and try to stay sane!
TBC