Chapter Six. Totally rewriting almost everything, so I'm really not sure
how many chapters will be left. At least three more, a bit shorter than my
last one.
Also, school starts for me on Tuesday, so I'm going to seriously be lacking in time. I'll try to update as often as I can, and the first week should be okay, but my updates may drop to once or twice a week.
Also, I'll be on vacation the 9th through the 12th of September, so I won't be able to update at all between then. (I believe that's Wednesday through Sunday.)
Oh, and a side note, I tend to follow the ratio of elvish to human years as 100/1. Therefore, a 1,000 year old elf would be the equivalent of a 10 year old boy.
Just because, you get an extra long chapter this time around.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
Legolas bit his lip to keep from screaming. He had one thing left safe from his grandfather, and that was his pride. He would not scream, he would not let his pride go. He knew this show of pride just served as further amusement for his tormentors, but he didn't care.
An hour later, he lay curled on the floor, where Tarduain had left him on one of nightly tirades. Actually, Legolas was quite surprised that Tarduian even left the room.
His back burned with thousands of shallow lacerations. It seemed almost as though Tarduain were cutting patterns in him. He choked out a sob. More than anything he needed someone. He couldn't stand being alone anymore. He needed his father or Elrohir or Arwen; anybody.
'No, you lie to yourself, Legolas.' He chided himself. 'You wouldn't let anyone in here. You would rather die alone than have to face anyone like this. Just like last time.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas Greenleaf was 1,000 years old, a mere child in evlish eyes. He and Elrohir from Rivendell were playing with makeshift bows, fitting tiny arrows to the string and crossing their fingers until they realized that they had once again fallen short of their targets. In other words, they were being children; running with the wind, laughing at things that only the innocent could see humor in.
Then, while on the archery range, Legolas' grandfather had approached the two children. He was an elf that Legolas had only seen a few times, and he barely knew anything about this relative. His father never explained why this was, and Legolas never asked. The only thing he really knew about him was that his mother had not liked him. For that reason, Legolas had always had his doubts about him, but he seemed nice enough that he let the worries pass.
"I know a better place to practice your skills," he had a said, "a place so nice that not even your father will show it to you."
Elrohir jumped at the chance, knowing nothing of the former king's history with his family. Legolas, never having a real reason to distrust the elf, nodded his assent. The two young friends willingly walked straight into a trap.
For the month that they were held prisoner by the older elf, Legolas had not seen Elrohir once. He had only his grandfather's word that the elf was not hurt, and that word was not much to believe in. Legolas found out early on that strangers could not be trusted.
It was the day of their rescue, but the young prince could not have known that. He was sitting in a corner of a very dark room, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. He could not even feel the pain in his body any more. Everything hurt, so there was nothing to judge the pain against. It was a feeling he had grown used to in the time he was there. It was true, he could have saved himself some of the pain, but then the old elf's anger would have been taken out on Elrohir. More than anything, more than escape, more than his own pain, he wanted to keep Elrohir out of his grandfather's insanity and misdirected anger. He would give his life to save his friend, and this day, he was very close to accomplishing that.
The heavy door at the end of the room was thrown open and hit the wall with a dull thud. Legolas cringed and shut his eyes tight. He was fighting desperately to hide his tears, for they only proved to be amusing to Oropher.
The young elf heard a gasp from the person who had entered, but still he kept his eyes closed. He heard someone running towards him, and picking him up. He panicked and fought them, but the hands that held him were too strong.
Lord Elrond watch with a breaking heart as the young elf gave a great cry, and then grew very still.
"Legolas!" Elrohir called out, but Elrond held him back. Thranduil was clutching his son to him as though the young prince was his last lifeline. Mithfalas stood next to Elrond, his hand over his heart and tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
Thranduil lifted his noble head. "Come, we will take him to the healing room-"
Elrond finally stepped over, and Mithfalas took Elrohir in his care. "Nay, we do not have the time. We will him here."
Thranduil gave him a panicked look, scared for his son's life. Elrond smiled at him, a smile that betrayed his own fear concerning the elf's fate from here. "We will heal him together, you and I."
Thranduil began to pull off his son's tunic so they could inspect any damage done. The elven lord almost threw up at what he saw.
Elrond grimaced. The prince's entire torso was covered in gashes, black and blue bruises, and welts where a whip had obviously been used. The worst part was the knowledge that this had been done recently. If they were old injuries, they would have been mostly healed due to the nature of elvish bodies. That meant that the wounds they saw were inflicted within the last day, and probably had been inflicted many times before. Elrond could not stand the sight before him and turned his gaze to his own son.
Elrohir had, by some miracle, not a scratch on him, and, aside from being shaken, was otherwise fine. A wave of relief hit Elrond as he realized that he could very well be looking at his own son the way he was seeing Legolas. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar.
"Nienna," a very soft, pain laced voice rose form the still form in front of him.
Thranduil placed a hand on his son's forehead. "He sees the halls. Already, he seeks comfort from Nienna."
"We will save him." Elrond could not even believe his own words as he pressed lightly on a rib and Legolas' body convulsed upwards. Steeling his emotions, he set to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Legolas?" A very soft voice broke his thoughts. Legolas did not move. He heard the person enter his room, and quietly close the door. "Legolas?"
He paid no attention to voice.
His body tensed and pulled away as a hand touched his back lightly.
"Legolas, come on. Get up." The soft voice was now very firm and very demanding.
"Please, don't."
Elrohir paused. "Don't what, Legolas?"
There was no response. Elrohir shook his head. "Get up, Legolas. Now." He didn't want to be harsh with his friend, but Legolas would not listen to soft, polite words. He was adding to Legolas' trauma, but it was the only way to get through to the prince. "Get up! We have things to do. You do not have time to stay here and pity yourself. Get up!"
Legolas did not move.
"You waste what little time we have!" He bent down, grabbing his friend's arms and pulling him to his feet. The prince tried to shy away from him, but Elrohir would have none of it.
"Look at me, Legolas. Look at me!" His heart almost broke when Legolas finally did look him in the eye. He was beaten up very badly, and his eyes were red and his face tear streaked. "Legolas, it is I, Elrohir. Enimodel. You trusted me once, please do so again."
Legolas turned his eyes back to he floor, which seemed to be moving beneath him. "I want it to be over, make it end."
He was like a small child. 'What did they do to you, Legolas? May the grace of the Valar help you through this.'
"We must find your father. It is only a matter of hours before they realized I have escaped." He paused again. "Do you trust me, Legolas?"
The prince nodded once, very slowly.
"Let's go then. I have an idea where your father might be. And then we need to see to your wounds." He looked at the gash on the prince's shoulder. It hadn't been that bad when he first received the wound. Elrohir shook his head. "Here," he handed the prince a tunic from the chest of drawers behind him.
Legolas shrugged into it, and warily followed Elrohir out of the room.
"I'll be glad when I'm back home." Elrohir was mumbling to himself.
"You should go."
The Noldor elf stopped. "Go where?"
"Home. There's a way we transport barrels under the castle. You could go out that way and make it halfway to Rivendell before they would even go looking for you."
Elrohir shook his head. "I am not leaving you. I swore to protect you, Legolas. You've saved my life twice now, and I've only saved yours once."
Legolas smiled. "You're too stubborn for your own good."
"Look who's talking, Mr. It's only a flesh wound."
Legolas rolled his eyes. "Point taken."
Elrohir smiled to himself. He was taking Legolas' mind off his pain. He even managed a weak smile out of his friend. 'Things are going to be okay.'
He led Legolas down an empty corridor. "I heard your grandfather talking about a hidden set of cells. I think Lord Thranduil may be there."
"I had that thought too. I was just never able to investigate it."
"You knew about the hidden rooms?"
"This is my home, Elrohir. I know ever square inch of it."
Elrohir spoke again at length. "You haven't tried to see me in a while. A couple of days."
It wasn't a question. It was a curious, simple statement.
"I couldn't."
"Pardon?"
"Grandfather ordered me in constant presence of Tarduian." Legolas said nothing else, and Elrohir did not push it.
The prince leaned forward as they reached the end of the hall. He was pushing his weight into the wall. To Elrohir's surprise, it was moving.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
"They're all empty," Legolas said in despair.
"Come, there's still more yet that we haven't checked."
"I think it's time we tell the king that his son is dead."
Legolas and Elrohir exchanged panicked glances.
"Quick," Elrohir said, pushing Legolas into an empty cell.
"Melkor take it all." Legolas flung himself to the ground, pulling Elrohir with him to avoid being seen.
"I think he has," Elrohir mumbled in response to Legolas' curse.
'Don't think. Clear your mind. No thoughts. Not about this. Think about your father. No, think about food. Think about how hungry you are.' The last thing Legolas wanted was for Oropher to know where they were because he own thoughts gave them away. It was then that he noticed a door at the back of the cell. A moment of triumph shone briefly before Legolas realized what it meant.
They entered the wrong cell for hiding.
"Stand up," Legolas whispered.
"Why?"
"They're coming in here anyway. Stand up and meet them like true warriors."
Elrohir nodded, still not understanding, and the two elves stood gracefully to their feet.
Oropher, Tarduain, and three elves unfamiliar to Legolas stopped dead at the door of the cell.
"Are you hungry, Legolas?" Oropher asked, a small smile playing on his lips.
Legolas held his peace.
To the prince's surprise, his grandfather advanced on him with lightening speed, and threw him roughly to the ground.
"Get up," he growled.
Legolas stumbled to his feet as a wave of pain took over his body. He was certainly not ready for any more punishment to his body.
Elrohir stood a little ways away from Legolas, fighting the three elves and Tarduain. They were quickly subduing him.
Legolas gasped suddenly as his body hit the wall. He closed his eyes in pain.
"Fight me, you cowardly brat!" Anger accented his grandfather's words. "Your father may have spoiled you endlessly, but in the real world, things don't always go the way you want them to. Fight me!"
Legolas shook his head, fighting the pain that his body could barely endure. He would not fight his grandfather. Thranduil had raised him better than that.
"Your father fought me."
Legolas clenched his fists against the wall that now supported him. He would not listen to this.
"You'll die, just like he did: on your knees, begging for mercy!"
"Liar," Legolas whispered. A heavy silence followed.
"What did you say?"
Legolas was seized by pure rage. "I said you are a liar! My father did not die. If he had, he would not have been begging for your mercy! He was far nobler than that!"
A well-placed blow landed in the prince's ribs. Legolas was painfully reminded that they were still broken. He cried out as his old injuries burned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
Thranduil's eyes popped open. There was no mistaking it, he had heard his son scream.
So it was Legolas in the next room, fighting his own father. Legolas was alive.
"Fight me!" The words rang dully through the stone walls.
His own son was in the very next room, and he was powerless to help him! 'Fight back, Legolas, please,' he tried to will the thought through the walls.
Then it hit him. Legolas would not fight back. He never had, and Thranduil had caused that. He had raised Legolas in such a way, however accidentally, so that he would never fight his father or his grandfather.
"Fight him!" Thranduil yelled repeatedly, hoping against vain hope that his son heard him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
To my reviewers, who seemed to have died out again:
Nikki: ! Ah, yay to you too! Lol. And hey! Another review for this story! Haha, sorry you keep losing me. I blame FF.net for that. AH! And a third one. Sheesh, you are seriously a very fun reviewer! Thanks!
Sky: You know, this chapter was a LOT shorter before I read your review for chapter 5. Good flashback, or does it need more? I can add to chapter seven if I need to. Thank you, thank you for the suggestion! Contrast good or no this time around? PS. You'll find out more about the "however accidental" in a later story.
Legolas'-Calandra: Yay! You are my tenth "poor Legolas!" ::Confetti is falling from the ceiling and balloons are everywhere:: Hey, who says someone is gonna rescue him? I might just let him die. (Wouldn't be much of a series though, would it?) Nah, I like Elrohir too much. Leggy will still trust him. Well there, that narrowed it down, didn't it? Oh, jeez. I can't stop the torture. Wait until you read the next chapter, there's major pain there. As for your other question, we'll see. Perhaps, perhaps. ::wink::
Fire Eagle: Where's Thranduil? Well, did this chapter answer that, lol? I can't just tell you, sheesh. That's what the STORY part is for, lol. ::wink:: Ah, jeez, thank you, thank you, and thank you a dozen more times. You are too too kind! ::does a little happy dance:: (Hey, it's late, okay?)
Also, school starts for me on Tuesday, so I'm going to seriously be lacking in time. I'll try to update as often as I can, and the first week should be okay, but my updates may drop to once or twice a week.
Also, I'll be on vacation the 9th through the 12th of September, so I won't be able to update at all between then. (I believe that's Wednesday through Sunday.)
Oh, and a side note, I tend to follow the ratio of elvish to human years as 100/1. Therefore, a 1,000 year old elf would be the equivalent of a 10 year old boy.
Just because, you get an extra long chapter this time around.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
Legolas bit his lip to keep from screaming. He had one thing left safe from his grandfather, and that was his pride. He would not scream, he would not let his pride go. He knew this show of pride just served as further amusement for his tormentors, but he didn't care.
An hour later, he lay curled on the floor, where Tarduain had left him on one of nightly tirades. Actually, Legolas was quite surprised that Tarduian even left the room.
His back burned with thousands of shallow lacerations. It seemed almost as though Tarduain were cutting patterns in him. He choked out a sob. More than anything he needed someone. He couldn't stand being alone anymore. He needed his father or Elrohir or Arwen; anybody.
'No, you lie to yourself, Legolas.' He chided himself. 'You wouldn't let anyone in here. You would rather die alone than have to face anyone like this. Just like last time.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas Greenleaf was 1,000 years old, a mere child in evlish eyes. He and Elrohir from Rivendell were playing with makeshift bows, fitting tiny arrows to the string and crossing their fingers until they realized that they had once again fallen short of their targets. In other words, they were being children; running with the wind, laughing at things that only the innocent could see humor in.
Then, while on the archery range, Legolas' grandfather had approached the two children. He was an elf that Legolas had only seen a few times, and he barely knew anything about this relative. His father never explained why this was, and Legolas never asked. The only thing he really knew about him was that his mother had not liked him. For that reason, Legolas had always had his doubts about him, but he seemed nice enough that he let the worries pass.
"I know a better place to practice your skills," he had a said, "a place so nice that not even your father will show it to you."
Elrohir jumped at the chance, knowing nothing of the former king's history with his family. Legolas, never having a real reason to distrust the elf, nodded his assent. The two young friends willingly walked straight into a trap.
For the month that they were held prisoner by the older elf, Legolas had not seen Elrohir once. He had only his grandfather's word that the elf was not hurt, and that word was not much to believe in. Legolas found out early on that strangers could not be trusted.
It was the day of their rescue, but the young prince could not have known that. He was sitting in a corner of a very dark room, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. He could not even feel the pain in his body any more. Everything hurt, so there was nothing to judge the pain against. It was a feeling he had grown used to in the time he was there. It was true, he could have saved himself some of the pain, but then the old elf's anger would have been taken out on Elrohir. More than anything, more than escape, more than his own pain, he wanted to keep Elrohir out of his grandfather's insanity and misdirected anger. He would give his life to save his friend, and this day, he was very close to accomplishing that.
The heavy door at the end of the room was thrown open and hit the wall with a dull thud. Legolas cringed and shut his eyes tight. He was fighting desperately to hide his tears, for they only proved to be amusing to Oropher.
The young elf heard a gasp from the person who had entered, but still he kept his eyes closed. He heard someone running towards him, and picking him up. He panicked and fought them, but the hands that held him were too strong.
Lord Elrond watch with a breaking heart as the young elf gave a great cry, and then grew very still.
"Legolas!" Elrohir called out, but Elrond held him back. Thranduil was clutching his son to him as though the young prince was his last lifeline. Mithfalas stood next to Elrond, his hand over his heart and tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
Thranduil lifted his noble head. "Come, we will take him to the healing room-"
Elrond finally stepped over, and Mithfalas took Elrohir in his care. "Nay, we do not have the time. We will him here."
Thranduil gave him a panicked look, scared for his son's life. Elrond smiled at him, a smile that betrayed his own fear concerning the elf's fate from here. "We will heal him together, you and I."
Thranduil began to pull off his son's tunic so they could inspect any damage done. The elven lord almost threw up at what he saw.
Elrond grimaced. The prince's entire torso was covered in gashes, black and blue bruises, and welts where a whip had obviously been used. The worst part was the knowledge that this had been done recently. If they were old injuries, they would have been mostly healed due to the nature of elvish bodies. That meant that the wounds they saw were inflicted within the last day, and probably had been inflicted many times before. Elrond could not stand the sight before him and turned his gaze to his own son.
Elrohir had, by some miracle, not a scratch on him, and, aside from being shaken, was otherwise fine. A wave of relief hit Elrond as he realized that he could very well be looking at his own son the way he was seeing Legolas. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar.
"Nienna," a very soft, pain laced voice rose form the still form in front of him.
Thranduil placed a hand on his son's forehead. "He sees the halls. Already, he seeks comfort from Nienna."
"We will save him." Elrond could not even believe his own words as he pressed lightly on a rib and Legolas' body convulsed upwards. Steeling his emotions, he set to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Legolas?" A very soft voice broke his thoughts. Legolas did not move. He heard the person enter his room, and quietly close the door. "Legolas?"
He paid no attention to voice.
His body tensed and pulled away as a hand touched his back lightly.
"Legolas, come on. Get up." The soft voice was now very firm and very demanding.
"Please, don't."
Elrohir paused. "Don't what, Legolas?"
There was no response. Elrohir shook his head. "Get up, Legolas. Now." He didn't want to be harsh with his friend, but Legolas would not listen to soft, polite words. He was adding to Legolas' trauma, but it was the only way to get through to the prince. "Get up! We have things to do. You do not have time to stay here and pity yourself. Get up!"
Legolas did not move.
"You waste what little time we have!" He bent down, grabbing his friend's arms and pulling him to his feet. The prince tried to shy away from him, but Elrohir would have none of it.
"Look at me, Legolas. Look at me!" His heart almost broke when Legolas finally did look him in the eye. He was beaten up very badly, and his eyes were red and his face tear streaked. "Legolas, it is I, Elrohir. Enimodel. You trusted me once, please do so again."
Legolas turned his eyes back to he floor, which seemed to be moving beneath him. "I want it to be over, make it end."
He was like a small child. 'What did they do to you, Legolas? May the grace of the Valar help you through this.'
"We must find your father. It is only a matter of hours before they realized I have escaped." He paused again. "Do you trust me, Legolas?"
The prince nodded once, very slowly.
"Let's go then. I have an idea where your father might be. And then we need to see to your wounds." He looked at the gash on the prince's shoulder. It hadn't been that bad when he first received the wound. Elrohir shook his head. "Here," he handed the prince a tunic from the chest of drawers behind him.
Legolas shrugged into it, and warily followed Elrohir out of the room.
"I'll be glad when I'm back home." Elrohir was mumbling to himself.
"You should go."
The Noldor elf stopped. "Go where?"
"Home. There's a way we transport barrels under the castle. You could go out that way and make it halfway to Rivendell before they would even go looking for you."
Elrohir shook his head. "I am not leaving you. I swore to protect you, Legolas. You've saved my life twice now, and I've only saved yours once."
Legolas smiled. "You're too stubborn for your own good."
"Look who's talking, Mr. It's only a flesh wound."
Legolas rolled his eyes. "Point taken."
Elrohir smiled to himself. He was taking Legolas' mind off his pain. He even managed a weak smile out of his friend. 'Things are going to be okay.'
He led Legolas down an empty corridor. "I heard your grandfather talking about a hidden set of cells. I think Lord Thranduil may be there."
"I had that thought too. I was just never able to investigate it."
"You knew about the hidden rooms?"
"This is my home, Elrohir. I know ever square inch of it."
Elrohir spoke again at length. "You haven't tried to see me in a while. A couple of days."
It wasn't a question. It was a curious, simple statement.
"I couldn't."
"Pardon?"
"Grandfather ordered me in constant presence of Tarduian." Legolas said nothing else, and Elrohir did not push it.
The prince leaned forward as they reached the end of the hall. He was pushing his weight into the wall. To Elrohir's surprise, it was moving.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
"They're all empty," Legolas said in despair.
"Come, there's still more yet that we haven't checked."
"I think it's time we tell the king that his son is dead."
Legolas and Elrohir exchanged panicked glances.
"Quick," Elrohir said, pushing Legolas into an empty cell.
"Melkor take it all." Legolas flung himself to the ground, pulling Elrohir with him to avoid being seen.
"I think he has," Elrohir mumbled in response to Legolas' curse.
'Don't think. Clear your mind. No thoughts. Not about this. Think about your father. No, think about food. Think about how hungry you are.' The last thing Legolas wanted was for Oropher to know where they were because he own thoughts gave them away. It was then that he noticed a door at the back of the cell. A moment of triumph shone briefly before Legolas realized what it meant.
They entered the wrong cell for hiding.
"Stand up," Legolas whispered.
"Why?"
"They're coming in here anyway. Stand up and meet them like true warriors."
Elrohir nodded, still not understanding, and the two elves stood gracefully to their feet.
Oropher, Tarduain, and three elves unfamiliar to Legolas stopped dead at the door of the cell.
"Are you hungry, Legolas?" Oropher asked, a small smile playing on his lips.
Legolas held his peace.
To the prince's surprise, his grandfather advanced on him with lightening speed, and threw him roughly to the ground.
"Get up," he growled.
Legolas stumbled to his feet as a wave of pain took over his body. He was certainly not ready for any more punishment to his body.
Elrohir stood a little ways away from Legolas, fighting the three elves and Tarduain. They were quickly subduing him.
Legolas gasped suddenly as his body hit the wall. He closed his eyes in pain.
"Fight me, you cowardly brat!" Anger accented his grandfather's words. "Your father may have spoiled you endlessly, but in the real world, things don't always go the way you want them to. Fight me!"
Legolas shook his head, fighting the pain that his body could barely endure. He would not fight his grandfather. Thranduil had raised him better than that.
"Your father fought me."
Legolas clenched his fists against the wall that now supported him. He would not listen to this.
"You'll die, just like he did: on your knees, begging for mercy!"
"Liar," Legolas whispered. A heavy silence followed.
"What did you say?"
Legolas was seized by pure rage. "I said you are a liar! My father did not die. If he had, he would not have been begging for your mercy! He was far nobler than that!"
A well-placed blow landed in the prince's ribs. Legolas was painfully reminded that they were still broken. He cried out as his old injuries burned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
Thranduil's eyes popped open. There was no mistaking it, he had heard his son scream.
So it was Legolas in the next room, fighting his own father. Legolas was alive.
"Fight me!" The words rang dully through the stone walls.
His own son was in the very next room, and he was powerless to help him! 'Fight back, Legolas, please,' he tried to will the thought through the walls.
Then it hit him. Legolas would not fight back. He never had, and Thranduil had caused that. He had raised Legolas in such a way, however accidentally, so that he would never fight his father or his grandfather.
"Fight him!" Thranduil yelled repeatedly, hoping against vain hope that his son heard him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
To my reviewers, who seemed to have died out again:
Nikki: ! Ah, yay to you too! Lol. And hey! Another review for this story! Haha, sorry you keep losing me. I blame FF.net for that. AH! And a third one. Sheesh, you are seriously a very fun reviewer! Thanks!
Sky: You know, this chapter was a LOT shorter before I read your review for chapter 5. Good flashback, or does it need more? I can add to chapter seven if I need to. Thank you, thank you for the suggestion! Contrast good or no this time around? PS. You'll find out more about the "however accidental" in a later story.
Legolas'-Calandra: Yay! You are my tenth "poor Legolas!" ::Confetti is falling from the ceiling and balloons are everywhere:: Hey, who says someone is gonna rescue him? I might just let him die. (Wouldn't be much of a series though, would it?) Nah, I like Elrohir too much. Leggy will still trust him. Well there, that narrowed it down, didn't it? Oh, jeez. I can't stop the torture. Wait until you read the next chapter, there's major pain there. As for your other question, we'll see. Perhaps, perhaps. ::wink::
Fire Eagle: Where's Thranduil? Well, did this chapter answer that, lol? I can't just tell you, sheesh. That's what the STORY part is for, lol. ::wink:: Ah, jeez, thank you, thank you, and thank you a dozen more times. You are too too kind! ::does a little happy dance:: (Hey, it's late, okay?)
