The Heart of Men

by Nili

While wintering in Mirkwood, Aragorn and Legolas visit Laketown. Soon they find themselves thrown head first into chaos, suspicion and greed which threaten both their lives and the peace the new King of Dale has managed to uphold.

21. Dark Horizons

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

Uhm, well ... yes ... I'm sorry? Really??? *hides behind her pet balrog*

I am really sorry guys, I didn't mean to let you wait, but there was nothing I could do. I somehow got a really nasty ear infection, which the doctor told me with that annoying Everything-will-get-better-my-dear-smile, and it hurt so bloody much because skulls can't expand to deal with the swelling - or something like that. *grimaces* Well, I spent the last six days on so much antibiotics and painkillers that I could hardly remember my name, and I still had to write that stupid paper. I am really NOT expecting to get anything good for that one, it's mostly drug-induced ramblings ... and lots about Hannibal and his (pink) elephants...

Well, now I am better, thanks to my new friend Ibuprofen Extra Strong (I had some rather interesting conversations with my painkilling pills! *g*), and the Hannibal paper is finished, too! Yay Nili! I still can't hear anything on my right ear, but that's a bonus, kind of, so I can pretend I don't hear people calling me... *g*

I'm glad to see that you are happy that our dear friend Celylith is not dead, and all your suggestions concerning what to do with certain members of Adruran's troupe are ... interesting, to say the least, and I must say that some are positively disgusting (Yes, I DO mean you, Marbienl and LOTRFaith! Skinning them alive, Jeez!)... Okay, so now that I don't have anything to do for college till end of September, I hope to have more time to write, so I just might return to posting a bit more often. Might being the main word here. *g*


Well, here's the next part, sorry again for letting you wait. I feel really bad about it - well, at least a little bit. What do we see ... Estel finds out with what he's in that cave, Legolas is in a _tiny bit_ of trouble, Celylith-the-barely-living-pin-cushion wakes up and we have a cliffhanger. *giggles* Oh yes, it IS a CLIFFhanger.... *maniac laugh*

Enjoy and review, please!

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Chapter 21


Aragorn flattened himself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe.

No, there was definitely something in here, and now he even understood what Geran had meant when he had said that he would die soon anyway. Whatever it was that was in this cave, it sounded rather ill-tempered, and he was sure that it was coming closer, too.

Curse that man, he thought angrily, looking nervously about him, only Geran would think of putting him into a cave with something already in it! That brought his thoughts automatically to the question what exactly was in the cave with him. Perhaps a cave troll? Or a warg, a pack of wolves, goblins, orcs…

He grinned wryly. Why not a dragon or a balrog while he was at it? It couldn't be that bad, could it… Just then his eyes that had somewhat adjusted to the darkness of the cave spied something, a dark shadow that was slowly coming closer. It was dark, far taller than any man or elf he had ever seen and moved on two legs, which ruled out quite a lot, including the balrog and the dragon. Not that he had really believed that something like that had chosen exactly this cave for its hiding place, especially since balrogs hadn't been heard of since most had been destroyed by Fëanor and his sons at the end of the First Age during the battle of Angband and the last of the truly great dragons had died with Smaug, but considering his luck, he wouldn't have been surprised either.

Pushing back the panic that was rising inside of him, he frantically wondered what he should do. 'Think,' he told himself firmly, 'Think, by Elbereth's stars, or you are dead!'

One: He was stuck in a cave, with apparently no way out. Two: There was something else in here as well, and that something was big and sounded rather disgruntled. Three: He was still bound and had no idea how he was going to get the ropes off any time soon.

All in all, it was a situation that most people would have described as seriously unamusing, and for once, Aragorn was inclined to agree. He really couldn't see a single bright side, not one, he mused while he inwardly contemplated whether he should stay put and pretend to be a particularly large rock or try and hide somewhere.

'And where would that be?' The sarcastic voice was back. 'You can hardly see your hand in front of his eyes! Where would you go?'

He took a deep breath. Running was not an option. He slowly edged sidewards, wincing when his cut back made contact with the rough stone wall. Rough … stone wall …

Suddenly jumping into action, he frantically looked about him, and finally spied what he was looking for, or rather felt it: A slightly protruding rock just a few feet to his left. Giving the figure that was slowly coming closer a last quick look, he moved as quickly as possible and began to move his bound wrists over the sharp edges of the stone, trying to keep his movements slow and unobtrusive. His cave mate had apparently not seen him yet, and the last thing he wanted was to change that fact by attracting unnecessary attention to himself.

After what felt like an eternity, the bonds fell off, and Aragorn felt how some measure of calmness once again returned to him. It could be worse, he told himself, trying to get some blood to return to his hands. He was stuck in a cave with some huge, ill-tempered thing, feeling as if his twin brothers had once again managed to talk him into one of their hunting trip that inevitably went wrong, but at least he had his hands free. Things could be much worse.

Almost as soon as he had thought that, the tall shadow took another step forward, and Aragorn felt his heart freeze to the point where he was firmly convinced that it had turned into a lump of ice. He didn't know whether his eyes had finally fully adjusted to the near-darkness of the cave or whether the being had stepped into a tiny speck of light, but from one moment to the next, the young ranger was able to identify what it was with him in this cave.

This could not be, he thought dazedly, looking at the strong, furry body in front of him. Aragorn fought the sudden urge to giggle hysterically. If Celylith heard this, he would never let him live this down. Never. It took him a few moments to realise what was wrong with this statement: Celylith was dead. He would never have the chance to tease him about being stuck in a cave with a ... bear.

A bear, he could almost have laughed aloud. This was not possible, he ranted inwardly as he carefully edged along the cave wall, eyes fixed on the huge bear that stood a few dozen feet from him, sniffing the air. Well, he thought, trying to force his shock-numbed brain to start working again, at least this proved that the Valar did have a sense of humour. If a sloth had appeared round the corner, he wouldn't have been surprised either.

The animal chose this moment to turn into his direction, its furry head swivelling round to look directly at the human that had appeared in its lair so suddenly and interrupted its sleep most rudely by collapsing the cave entrance. A Elbereth, Aragorn thought desperately, he needed a plan, and he needed it now.

'What about hurling rocks at it?' the voice spoke up again. 'And there is always the possibility of insulting it until it goes away.'

Before he could start doing either, the bear fixed its small, dark eyes directly on the figure of the ranger who was doing his best to become part of the stone wall, and gave a low growl that didn't even sound like a warning anymore, but rather like annoyance mixed with the promise of some rather unpleasant actions.

With another growl the animal moved towards him, the speed and grace of its fluid movements belying its bulky body. Aragorn had barely enough time to throw himself to the side to avoid a clawed paw that swiped through the air. He hit the stony ground hard and automatically rolled over his shoulder, a movement that would normally have brought him back to his feet. Now however, he didn't get farther than onto his back, his chest and ribs screaming in pain as the cuts Hanar had placed all over his upper body with an exceptionally vicious-looking dagger a few hours earlier reopened.

For a moment he simply lay there, quietly wondering just what he had done to deserve all this. The bear had meanwhile turned around for another attack and came closer, the smell of fresh blood only serving to excite it further. As quickly as his body would allow him Aragorn struggled to his feet, eyes fixed on the shadowy figure in front of him as he backed away slowly.

A Elbereth, he thought as he moved backwards, doing his best not to stumble over rocks and trying to keep his movements slow and inoffensive, this was not good. He really didn't want to give the bear more reason to attack him. The bear growled, and Aragorn studied it a little bit more closely, noting that it was a brown bear, judging by the hump on its back and what little he could see of its head in the darkness.

He needed a plan, now, but all he could think of was what his brothers had told him some years ago when they had spoken about bears in general and brown bears in particular…


"Ha!"

The triumphant shout echoed through the quiet valley of Rivendell, and Elrohir traded a rather exasperated look with his brother. Estel's habit of shrieking every time his arrow hit the target was proving to become rather tiresome, especially since the boy's aim had greatly improved over the past few months.

He turned to look at his human brother, who had walked up to the target and was eyeing his arrow with the specifically smug look only young boys could produce. Estel grabbed the arrow and swiftly pulled it out, running back to his brothers to show it to them.

"See?" he demanded, brandishing the shaft, "I told you I could hit the inner ring!" Estel turned to Elladan who sat next to his twin on a fallen log a little bit away from the target in a remote corner of the archery range. "You owe me the recipe for that glue of yours, brother!"

"So I do," Elladan smiled at the young human boy.

Estel smiled back, turning to Elrohir now and looking at him with huge silver eyes.
"Now that I've hit it can I come and hunt with you? Please?"

The younger twin sighed softly. He recognised that particular Lost-puppy-dog-look, the one that had some effect even on Glorfindel. Not even Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin could refuse the young human's requests when he looked at him like that, the golden haired elf had admitted to them recently, and that explained in fact why Elladan and he had caught him chasing a giggling Estel through the corridors of the Last Homely House not too long ago, waving a wooden sword and yelling something along the lines of "I shall slay thee, foul balrog of Morgoth!"

Elrohir felt his heart melt and was about to tell his adorable human brother that he would of course be allowed to come when Elladan's stern voice interrupted him.
"No, Estel. You're ten years old; you're not old enough yet."

Elrohir shook his head quickly, telling himself that he really needed to develop an immunity to that look or Estel would have wrapped him around his little finger in matter of months, a rather disconcerting idea in his opinion.

"I'm not too young!" Estel protested, the pleading expression turning into a full-fledged all-face-pout. "Why can't I come?"

Elrond's oldest son sighed; it was becoming harder and harder to convince their little brother that he wasn't allowed to come with them on their almost weekly hunts.
"Because there are many things out there that are dangerous."

His foster brother waved his hand dismissively.
"Deer? I don't think that they would shoot back."

Elrohir smiled at that thought and swept the boy off his feet which caused him to start laughing loudly, and after a few seconds the elf settled down again, placing Estel on his lap.
"One does not only encounter deer, young one. There are other, more dangerous things as well."

Estel stopped giggling and looked at his elven brother with big eyes.
"Like what?"

"Wolves, for example," Elladan answered for his brother. "Or even wargs or bears."

"Bears?" his young brother repeated. "There are no bears here in Imladris, Elladan!"

"No," the dark haired elf shook his head, "Not here directly. But there are many further to the East, in the proximity of the Misty Mountains and scattered all over Wilderland."

"Oh," Estel said quietly, looking rather dejected. "I hadn't thought of that." He leaned back against Elrohir's chest, blinking up at his oldest brother. "How do you hunt a bear?"

"Well," Elrohir answered for his brother. "First, you don't do it alone. Never come near a bear alone and unprepared, Estel, and a brown bear especially, for they are the biggest kind that live around here. You would most certainly not live long enough to regret it."

Elladan nodded seriously, grey eyes fixed on his little brother. This was a good opportunity to impress upon the boy the dangers that could be found outside the safe borders of their home.
"They are especially dangerous in the winter, if you are unlucky enough to come across one that is not hibernating in its cave. Females with cubs and pregnant ones are the most dangerous, and if you ever see a she-bear with younglings, you should not even think about trying to attack it. They are very dangerous when they're protecting their young."

"Usually you use spears or arrows to bring them down," Elrohir added, with one hand unconsciously stroking over his little brother's dark hair. "Never allow yourself to get cornered by a bear, for they are a lot faster than they look. They also have an exceptional sense of smell, even though their eyesight and hearing isn't too good."

Estel nodded, looking properly impressed now. A moment later a concerned expression flittered over his face, and he twisted in Elrohir's arms to look the elf in the face.
"And what do I do when I find myself in such a situation? Alone with a bear, I mean?"

"Pray," Elladan muttered so quietly that only his twin could hear him.

Elrohir shot him a dark look and smiled at his human brother.
"Just don't, Estel. And if you by some chance do, run away as fast as you can and call for us."

The young boy looked at him seriously.
"And you will come?"

Elrohir tightened his hold on his little brother, a sudden wave of love sweeping over him.
"Of course we will, my brother. We will always come if you need us."

Elladan watched his younger brothers as they were sitting on a fallen log on the archery range of his home, the smile on his face broadening when he realised how much alike they looked right now, despite their different races. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, and Elrond's oldest son decided once again, studying their smiling faces in the dimming light, that he would do everything in his power to protect them and keep them from harm, no matter the cost.

Deep in his heart though, he knew that he would not be able to do either forever, especially when one considered Elrohir's and Estel's talent to get themselves into trouble.


Aragorn slowly rounded a huge slap of stone, placing it between him and the growling animal. For a fleet, irrational moment he truly considered calling for his elven brothers before a calmer part of his mind told him that that would be extremely pointless and probably more than a little dangerous, for it probably wasn't too intelligent to test how the bear would react to loud shouting.

"Wonderful," he thought once again, "Now I am alone in a cave with a bear, there is nowhere to run and Elladan and Elrohir are a few hundred leagues away from here. Perfect."

He had little time for further musings since the animal rounded the slap with once huge lunge, clearly deciding that enough was enough and to rid itself of this intruder that had interrupted its hibernation period.

Aragorn had just enough time to blink – which he did, looking remarkably like a sleepy, bruised and rather startled owl – before he was flying across the cavern and impacted with the stone wall behind him, about twelve feet away. He hit the rocks with a dull thud, his abused body screaming loudly in pain. All air was pressed out of his lungs, and he fell to the ground, momentarily stunned by the intense pain.

The bear looked rather surprised itself, probably wondering what a funny little animal it was that had found its way into its home and that could be sent flying across the cave with one swipe of its paw. Aragorn's despite his injuries still quick reflexes had probably saved his life, since he had moved back a little only a fraction of a second before the bear's paw had hit him, and therefore he hadn't been torn into pieces as the bear had obviously intended.

The animal's growls became deeper and more threatening (something which the young ranger had thought impossible) as it quickly made its way over to where the fallen man lay, and these sounds served to bring Aragorn out of his pain-induced stupor. With a tremendous effort he managed to push himself to his knees, shaking his head and dully fingering the tears that marred the one side of his face where the bear's clawed paw had ripped the skin open.

The dark haired human was frantically looking about him, searching for something, for anything that could be used as a weapon, and just before the animal attacked again, his bloody fingers closed around a splintered piece of wood. Aragorn looked down quickly, identifying it after a heartbeat as part of one of the struts that had supported the cave entrance. The wooden pole was about as long as his forearm and roughly tipped, forming a very crude spear of sorts.

'A spear?' a voice inside his head screamed. 'This is supposed to be a spear? Oh, great Eru, you are going to die…'

Before it could say more, the large, furry and very, very heavy body of the now rather annoyed bear slammed into him, and he was thrown to the side, bruised ribs impacting hard with the stony ground. Gasping for breath and trying to ignore the stars that began to dance in front of his eyes, Aragorn held on to his rather pathetic weapon and tried to keep the animal from latching onto his throat at the same time.

After a few seconds of struggling with the snarling beast, the young ranger could already feel his strength beginning to give out, and he almost didn't notice the pain of the scratches the animal's claws ripped into the muscles of his arms, chest and back. All he could think of was not letting the bear get to his throat and to wait for the right moment to try and use his spear, preferably before the animal had torn him into tiny little pieces.

He weakly scooted a little bit away from the bear, already beginning to feel light-headed and dizzy with blood-loss and pain, when the animal's bulk that was threatening to squash him shifted slightly to the side, and suddenly his right hand that still held the piece of wood felt the unmistakable shapes of ribs under his fingers.

Aragorn wasted no time, knowing full well that he would be dead in a matter of seconds if he didn't do something soon, and just as the bear was bringing down his snout to his throat to go for his jugular vein, he stabbed down with all the strength he had still left, piercing the thick hide and driving the wooden spear deeply into the body of the bear.

The animal gave an unearthly howl, tensing and fighting even more strongly for a few moments, before it collapsed bonelessly onto the young human. Aragorn felt warm blood spread on his chest, not really knowing if it was his or the bear's, and to his mild alarm he found that he didn't care.

The bear's dead body was pinning him to the ground so firmly that he doubted that he could have moved it even under normal circumstances, and in his current state he wasn't sure if he could have removed a hobbit child from his chest had he wanted to. The weight of the animal pressed down on him, restricting his airways and making it even harder to breathe, but he realised with surprise that the pain of his injuries was beginning to fade.

He stared at the dark ceiling above him, and noticed that the large grey spots that had at first been confined to the corners of his vision were now beginning to spread and solidify. A part of him told him insistently that that was a very bad sign, that he needed to get up and mustn't go to sleep, that Legolas depended on him to stay awake and alive until he came back, but another, larger and very, very exhausted part was in too much pain to listen.

The ceiling was beginning to fade as well, as was the sensation of sharp rocks that pressed into the cut and bruised skin of his back. Just before the grey spots turned into solid blackness that washed over him like a huge wave and he lost consciousness, he decided that sleep was probably a lot better than to lie here in a cave in pitch black darkness with a dead bear on his chest, waiting for death and going insane with fear and worry for his best friend.




Twenty minutes after the men had collapsed the entrance of the cave, Legolas and the six humans reached the small wood a little down the slopes of the Lonely Mountain. In these twenty very, very long minutes Legolas had made about as many different plans how he could escape his captors, preferably by killing all of them as slowly as possible and then come back to free Aragorn, if he was still alive, that was.

'Stop it,' he told himself firmly as soon as he had thought it. 'Of course that reckless dúnadan is still alive; he is far too stubborn to be killed in a stupid cave-in! He isn't dead, he won't leave you too, he won't…'

A sharp pain lanced through his very core, making him gasp for breath, which none of his guards noticed or thought unusual, since they had just jabbed a blunt club into his ribs to make him move faster. Bruised and cracked ribs – elven or not – tend to react none too pleasantly when being prodded by objects of any kind, and Legolas' let him feel their discontentment only too sharply.

The elven prince gritted his teeth against the pain and walked on, trying to increase his pace despite the fact that his strength was slowly beginning to desert him after the half-hour he had been forced to move when his body had told him to lie as still as possible for as long as possible if he didn't want it to quit on him.

Aragorn couldn't be dead, he mustn't be dead. He couldn't stand to lose yet another friend, not so soon after Celylith, he just couldn't. He was still lingering extremely close to the dark, bottomless chasm of despair, and should Estel be lost to him as well, he knew in his heart that it would be enough to push him over the edge completely. Legolas was sure that he would drown in pain and grief, and he was certain that he wouldn't even want to prevent it.

His captors stopped at the beginning of the wood, and Legolas raised his head, banning all despair, pain and fear from his face. The fair haired elf slowly turned to look at Geran, who stood a few feet in front of him and looked at him with bright, almost fanatically gleaming eyes.

Legolas simply looked at the man, nothing but disgust and loathing in his flinty silver-blue eyes. He was Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Wood-elves of Mirkwood, and he would be damned if he let this man see that, inwardly, he was being torn apart by grief, pain, fear, guilt, worry and about a thousand other emotions.

To his substantial satisfaction, Geran was forced to avoid his eyes after a moment, which he masked quickly by motioning at his men, who in turn took out their crossbows and aimed them at their captive. The young lieutenant stepped closer to the elf and, drawing a knife from his belt so quickly that the human eye could barely follow it, he cut Legolas' bonds with one swift move of his dagger.

The elven prince hid a wince when the restricting bonds fell off, and forced himself not to show the confusion and puzzlement that was washing over him now. He turned slightly, resisting the urge to rub his aching wrists, and was about to say something when his eyes came to rest on the knife the man still held. The elf's whole body seemed to freeze as he stood still as a statue carved out of white marble, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the weapon in Geran's hands.

The young man's face contorted into a smug grimace when he realised what had triggered the fair being's reaction.
"Ah, I see. You recognise this, Master Elf?"

Legolas just stood as if rooted to the spot, pain and fury warring in his chest. Of course he knew the dagger, how could he not? He had been there when Celylith had received it from his sister years and years ago, as a present on Yentarë, or Winter Solstice as humans called it. He could still remember the look on uncurbed joy on his friend's face when he had embraced Calowiël and swung her around as he had used to do when they had been elflings, their blonde and silver hair mingling and their fair voices raised in laughter…

The elven prince shortly closed his eyes, very aware of the crossbows that were trained on him and trying to get his emotions under control. After a second he opened them again, and the emptiness in them was more terrible than anything else that could have been seen there.

"This knife belongs to my friend, human," he said in a very low voice, staring hard at the man.

Geran once again averted his eyes and reached up to his quiver, pulling free a bow that Legolas knew only too well. He felt how the pain and anger in his heart even intensified. How dare this man even touch it…

"And that is my bow," Legolas simply said, both because he was far too angry to think of anything more he could say and because he still wasn't sure if this boy was truly realising what he was doing. No-one touched his weapons without his permission, no-one, and certainly not this sick man that stood in front of him, a smug grin on his face.

"Wrong, Master Elf," Geran told the elf who had become even whiter, a thing the man had thought impossible. "Now it is mine, as is the ranger's sword and your elven friend's dagger. I keep a trophy of everything or everyone I kill, which brings me back to our game of course." He took a step back, still refusing to meet Legolas' now positively burning gaze. "The rules are simple. If we get you, we will kill you. So I would advise you to run, I will grant you five minutes of a head start."

Instead of running in fear, the elf merely gave the small wood at which Geran had gesticulated a cursory glace before his eyes returned to the human's face. Geran didn't want to look at his prisoner, but somehow he found himself compelled to do so, and he couldn't break the eye contact even when the fair haired elf began to speak.

Legolas looked at the man in front of him, shortly allowing his emotions to show in his eyes.

"I will come back for these," he told Geran in an icy, very certain tone of voice, nodding at Celylith's dagger and his own bow. "And when I do, I will take my friend's knife and kill you with it, and its hilt will be the very last thing you will ever see before your worthless soul leaves the circles of this world. This is something I promise you, human, and I never take frivolous vows or break my promises."

Geran swallowed hard, finally tearing his eyes away from the fair haired elf's, and opened his mouth to say something when Hanar put a mildly restraining hand on his arm and shook his head.

"No, sir," he said quietly, "You need to hurry up. Don't waste your time with talking, you've heard what the captain said, haven't you? He needs all of us to supervise the Lake-men and to help get the treasure out of the mountain, and if we're not back in an hour, he will be very unhappy indeed."

Geran looked sharply at the other man but nodded quickly, looking once again at his prisoner who still stood as still as a statue with his eyes fixed on him, a combination that made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. He had to forcefully push down the feeling that told him that the elf was speaking the truth, that, somehow, he had seen the future and that exactly that would come to pass, and he jerked his head into his direction, giving him a grim look that the elven prince didn't even seem to notice.

"I would run if I were you, elf," he said, a sneer spreading over his face. "And please, do make it a bit harder than your little friends, will you? I was particularly disappointed with the elf's performance, it was all far too easy…"

Geran trailed off when he saw his captive's face who was looking far angrier now than any other being he had ever seen in his entire life, and that included several of his liege's more ... temperamental fits. Until now he had thought that his lord was the person capable of the fiercest temperament he had ever seen, but when he looked into the eyes of the elf in front of him which seemed to positively burn with fury, he was forced to admit that this one topped him easily and that he should be quiet unless he wanted to the fair haired elf to attack him right here and now.

Legolas gave Geran a long look, studying him as if he were a very nasty insect he intended to squash under his boot heel as soon as possible. Then he turned around and began to make his way over to the small cluster of trees, ignoring his pride that protested loudly at this action. No, he did not like to run away, no wood-elf did, but he was not stupid enough not to see that sometimes running away was the only option one had left. He could never take on six men armed with crossbows and swords, not in his present condition, and who would help Aragorn and avenge Celylith's death when he was gone?

As he made his way deeper into the wood and listened to the sounds of his pursuers, he forced himself to push down the burning hatred that bubbled inside of his chest like an especially ill-tempered dragon. How dare this man speak about his friend like this, how dare he! Celylith had lived longer than Geran and his last forty ancestors put together, he had never been meant to die like this! His silver haired friend had been meant to travel to Aman with him one day, together as they had always been, to join his mother, sister and the rest of his family, but this ignorant, arrogant human had killed him, had cut his immortal life short before he had had the chance to do that and so much more…

Legolas shook his head, banishing these thoughts from his mind. Hatred and anger would only distract him now, he could already hear the men coming closer, surrounding him on three sides. The elven prince's tired brain needed a second to grasp the importance of this. Why only on three sides? What was on the fourth?

The fair haired elf shortly contemplated climbing a tree to have a look around, but abandoned that idea quickly when he realised that it would take him too long in his current state and that the trees were not standing quite close enough together to jump the distance between them. With his injuries slowing him down, he would never get off a tree on time when he had once climbed it, and therefore would be trapped like a fly in a spider's web.

Legolas pushed onwards, trying to ignore his back that had burst into flames in the past ten minutes, he was sure about that. It had to be on fire, there was no other logical explanation for the nauseating pain that swept over him with every step he took. He noticed that the sunlight grew dimmer, far dimmer than the natural gloom of the small wood justified. He shortly contemplated whether the sun was going down before he realised that it had just risen and that that was therefore not very likely, to say the least.

While he was still trying to figure out why it was getting darker and harder to move and doing his best to ignore a small voice that told him insistently that it was the blood-loss and that he should sit down somewhere before he fell over, he pushed through the thick underground, intent on finding a way out of his current situation. He didn't like this game of cat and mouse at all; he needed to hide somewhere until the men had given up the search and then go back for Aragorn…

In mid-thought he felt how his right foot he had just lifted met only empty space instead of the hard ground he had expected, and Legolas reeled back, needing a few seconds which he spent waving his arms madly in a most un-elf-like fashion to regain his balance. Finally he got a hold of a low-hanging tree branch and clutched it with both hands, noting the red marks around his wrists that the rough ropes had left there with detached interest.

The elven prince forcefully wrenched his thoughts away from this topic and looked in front of him, fixing his rather unwilling eyes on the space where he had so unexpectedly lost his footing. His rather tired and rebellious brain finally proceeded the images his eyes sent it, and he realised that he was standing on the edge of a small cliff. One of the foothills of the mountain was falling off rapidly here, creating a cliff about 150 feet above the ground.

Legolas simply blinked tiredly, allowing himself to sink against the tree for a moment. So this was why they were only coming after him on three sides, they were trapping him against this cliff where there would be no escape for him…

The fair haired prince's stubbornness re-awoke inside of him. He would be damned if he waited here for them to come and get him. He dropped to his knees next to the incline, peering down. There were places where he could put his hands and feet, yes, a foothold here and a protruding root there … but what then? Legolas shook his head, his thoughts racing. If he climbed down, they would only follow him, and he could already see the end of this wood. Beyond this there was no cover and no hiding places, he would be on the open plains and easily seen even by the most incompetent humans…

Before Legolas could decide whether or not to climb down, his now pain-dulled senses flared to life, and he struggled to his feet, straining to focus his hearing. He only had a split second to realise that there was something or someone right behind him, and without thinking twice he threw himself to the side, careful not to land directly on his injured back. The pain would make him lose consciousness, he was sure of that; not even the firstborns' strength and stamina were limitless, as unhappy as he was to admit that.

The elf regained his footing just in time to move to the side when a sword cut through the air exactly where he had lain only seconds ago, and Legolas had enough time to identify his attacker. It was one of the guards that Geran and Hanar had brought with them. For the life of him, Legolas couldn't understand how the human had managed to sneak up on him, and he was beginning to suspect that the small voice that told him that he was in a really bad shape was right, at least partly.

The man grinned at him, displaying the absence of several rather important teeth. He thought the elf to be cornered, and was obviously already imagining what his superiors and comrades would say when they heard that he had got the elf…

Legolas, however, was very unwilling to let himself be killed just like this. He mustn't allow this man to alert the others, or he would be dead very, very soon. Mobilising all the strength he had still left, he moved forward with a speed the human was clearly not expecting from a badly wounded creature such as him, and before the man even knew what was happening, Legolas had grasped the spare knife that hung at his belt.

The guard brought his sword up, startled, and just in time to block an attack of the fair haired elf that distinctly lacked real strength. This raised the man's hopes once more, he moved forward and slammed his fist into his adversary's ribcage, causing the elf to drop to his knees with a soft cry of pain, one of his slender arms wrapped protectively around his chest. The man grinned again and moved in for the kill, but just when he had got close enough, the elf's head shot up with a start, and he lunged forward, his eyes dark and expressionless. The human had no time to comprehend what was happening to him before he felt something brush his throat and everything went dark in an instant.

Legolas fell back to his knees, watching the body of the man fall to the ground in a bloody heap and panting for breath. His eyes fixed shortly on the gaping wound that was where the man's throat had been only seconds ago, the throat he had cut cleanly from ear to ear. He didn't feel remorse at all, he decided as he tried to force his lungs to start working again and fighting the very tempting darkness that was closing in on him, this human had deserved what he had got. He was sure that he had been the one that had hit Aragorn hard in his back when they had left the camp, and the memory of the gleeful expression on his face when he had done it was enough to make the elf feel ill again.
That, he decided wryly as he tried to get to his feet, might also be because liquid fire was where his ribs had been only moments ago.

Finally, he managed to stand, and with alarm he noticed that the other men were much closer now. He looked around him, trying to push back the despair that was threatening to overtake him. If he felt like this after fighting one of the men, what were the chances of him making it alive through a fight with five more of them? Slim to none, he admitted to himself with a small smile.

This expression reminded him of Aragorn and served to bring him out of his temporary paralysis. He pushed back the pain and exhaustion and surveyed his surroundings. Geran and the others would find this body, there was no way they could miss it, and he didn't have time to hide it … but then again, perhaps they should find it … and then …

His mind working faster than his tired and hurting body could comply, Legolas quickly dragged the still body of the dead man closer to the edge, churning up the snow and disturbing the foliage so that everybody would see that there had been a fight here. He positioned him at the edge of the cliff and made sure he was still gripping his sword. The knife he himself held he threw onto a grassy patch to the left where animals, probably deer, had removed the snow to get to the grass, making it look as if it had been wrenched from him during the fight.

The sounds of the humans that were closing in on him came ever closer, and the elven prince knew that there was no more time to spare. Giving the scene in front of him a last glance, he hoped that Geran and the others were neither too clever nor possessed the ability to read tracks very well. No ranger or scout, no matter how young and inexperienced, would be fooled by this, but he counted on the fact that Geran needed to get back to the camp and didn't have time to look at this too closely.

He walked over to the cliff and carefully began to ease himself over the edge. His torn back protested so fiercely that Legolas thought he might pass out now and then, but after a moment the worst of the pain passed and he was able to think more or less clearly again. The men were coming closer, and he prayed fervently to Elbereth to lend him speed. He needed to get down this cliff before they got here or all would be in vain. His plan was rather simple: Climb down, drape himself over some stones at the bottom of the cliff and look as dead and lifeless as possible. He just hoped that the men would be fooled and think that the man he had just killed had pushed him over the cliff just when he had died; if they did not, he was rather sure that he wouldn't live for another hour.

Legolas clenched his teeth as he was slowly making his way down the rough stone wall, far too slowly for his liking. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on like this, besides, the men were coming ever closer. It was rather interesting, he thought detachedly, trying to find a foothold, it was the question of what would happen first: Whether the men would find him before he could climb down, or whether his strength would desert him and he would really fall off this rock face and plummet to his doom. He had to suppress a small, erratic giggle. He truly didn't care overly much for either possibility…

Just when he was sure that he would faint any second now, he heard the men push through the undergrowth just a few yards away from the edge of the cliff, and he felt his heart fall straight into his stomach. He was still at least forty feet above the ground, and if he didn't grow wings in the next ten seconds, there was absolutely no way for him to make it down to the ground before they reached the edge of the cliff, saw him and put a crossbow bolt or an arrow into him.

Legolas would almost have laughed aloud. That would be just perfect, he thought wryly, being killed by one of his own arrows, the palace guards would laugh about that for ages…

He heard four humans come closer, closely followed by a fifth who treaded a little bit lighter – that had to be Geran, he reasoned, feeling suddenly very calm. He glanced quickly up the rock face he was clinging to, and then down onto the snow covered ground that lay beneath him.

Legolas clenched his teeth as he came to a decision. He shortly closed his eyes, sent a quick prayer to the Valar promising good behaviour for the next few decades should he survive this, and jumped.




It was happening again, all over again, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it, not now, not then, not ever. He was back in the forest, in Mirkwood, the woods of his home, under the dark, somewhat intimidating trees he loved so much.

Somehow, he knew that this was not happening, that it had to be an apparition, a nightmare or something else of that sort, but he couldn't influence what was happening around him. He felt slightly separated from his body, as if he were floating above it, even though he could not see himself.

This was just like it had been one that certain, horrible day, the same greyish light that filtered through the trees, the same foul creatures that swarmed all around him like flocks of black birds, the same elves that fought alongside him. To his right Legolas just killed a particularly ugly orc, while Glónduil and half a dozen other elven warriors were busy dealing with the wargs that were trailing the pack of orcs they had run into, a fact that had come as a surprise for all of the parties involved.

He felt his body move to the side, knowing before he had even turned that he was avoiding a spear that was thrust at him from behind, and turned to bury his sword in the body of the orc that had nearly taken his life. Wrenching his blade free, he quickly moved forward, narrowly escaping another orc that obviously wanted to succeed where his companion had failed, namely at killing him.

He recognised this, he thought desperately, it was the same all over again…

Trying to steel himself against the pain that he knew would come in a few moments, he concentrated and attempted to move his body to the side, but he didn't seem to be able to do anything at all. His body spun and dodged when various orcs were pressing in on him, and he killed many of the foul beasts with his sword and knife, but when his blade got stuck between the ribs of a dying orc, he knew that he wouldn't be able to save himself, just as he had been unable then.

Sharp, biting pain flared to life in his chest, and he looked down with wide eyes to see a wicked-looking dagger protrude from his ribcage. Once again, he fell to his knees as he had done all these centuries ago, and once again all he could do was stare wide-eyed at the goblin that stood over him, mouth twisted into a jeering smile.

Out of the corners of his eyes he saw rapid movement, and he strained to say something, strained to warn the person that was rushing up to him, but he could not. He slowly turned his head which was actually quite unnecessary, since he already knew what he would see. His eyes slowly surveyed the rest of the little clearing, noting that the battle was theirs and the last of the orcs were already trying to flee, closely pursued by the majority of the warriors of his guard. A shadow fell over his face as the orc lifted its scimitar higher, ready to bring it down onto his defenceless body, and he saw Legolas' horrified face at the far side of the glade as he turned around and noticed his predicament, realising that he would be too late to save him.

All his attention however was fixed on the figure he saw rushing up to him, fair hair that had come loose of its braids flying wildly around his head. He tried to open his mouth, to warn the elf that was coming to his aid, but once again he was powerless to change anything, and so he was forced to watch as his saviour let his long hunting dagger fly through the air with deadly accuracy, hitting the orc that was just about to kill him.

The orc's body fell to the ground with a thud, and the fair haired elf stopped in front of him, giving him one of his small, reckless smiles before he bent down to help him. Inwardly, he was screaming at the other to move, to get away from him, but he couldn't utter a word, and so the elf that had saved his life realised the danger he was in far too late.

So intent had the other elf been on helping his friend that he hadn't noticed the second orc that was lurking in the shadow of the tree, waiting for its time to strike. The elf was just beginning to turn when a scimitar came seemingly out of nowhere and connected with a sickening noise with his midsection, drawing a deep wound. The fair haired elf stared in shock at the weapon that protruded from his chest, and all he could do was stare at the one that had saved his life as he fell to the ground, eyes wide and unbelieving.

He didn't even notice that Legolas shot the orc a second later, he didn't notice that the rest of the foul creatures were driven off, he even forgot about his wound. All he could see was the bleeding, lifeless body of Amaran, his sister's fiancée which he had sworn to protect with his life.

He quickly crawled over to the body of his fair haired friend, not noticing that Legolas, Glónduil and the rest of the guards had stepped closer. He carefully turned the elf's body over, and his heart froze in his chest when he saw the damage the crude blade had inflicted. He knew that there was nothing that could have saved Amaran, he would even have died had his motherbeen there, who had then been the master healer, but that did nothing to lessen the heartache of the moment he was forced to relive.

He bedded the other's head in his lap, ignoring his own injury that was beginning to make him feel light-headed. Amaran's eyes fluttered open, stunningly green against the paleness of his skin.

"C-Cel-Celylith?" he croaked, his life draining out of him and bright eyes already dimming.

"Yes," he answered, but it were not the words he wanted to say now but the words he had spoken then, all these years ago. Now he would have pleaded him for forgiveness, but nothing he would have said now found its way past his lips. "It is I, my friend, hold on. Wait until my sister finds out you have ruined the shirt she sewed for you."

The fair haired elf grinned weakly.
"She will be furious … she is so much like you … sometimes…"

Celylith felt the answering grin spread on his face, knowing full well that it looked fake and contorted with pain and grief.
"She will be, Amaran. Please, stay awake, we need to get you back to the palace…"

He looked up into the stony, sad face of his prince, and he could read his future brother-in-law's fate there as clearly as if it had been carved in stone. A raspy breath drew his attention back to the fallen elf.

"Please, my friend," Amaran pleaded, grasping his hand in a surprisingly strong grip, "Tell your sister … tell Calowiël…"

Celylith shook his head, his mind now fully overwhelmed with the memories. He didn't care whether this was a memory, a nightmare or a hallucination, his friend was dying in front of his eyes and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

"No," he shook his head, grasping the dying elf's hand tightly. "No, you will tell her yourself, mellonamin. Save your strength, you will be alright."

Amaran minutely shook his head, his voice barely about a whisper now.
"You were always … a pathetic liar, Celylith…" He took another rasping breath, smiling at the slightly older elf, his voice a little steadier now. "Tell her that I am sorry, please … Tell her…"

He smiled slightly, the light in his green eyes slowly dying along with his body.
"Tell Calowiël that … I love her … with all my heart." Celylith felt himself nod, oblivious to the tears that streamed down his face. Amaran took a last breath and added in a whisper, "Now and forever."

Celylith waited anxiously for his friend to say more, something else than the words he had always exchanged with his sister when they had parted, but Amaran's eyes stared at the dark canopies of the trees, dim and unseeing. He didn't notice that Legolas stepped closer and finally dragged him away from the still body of the dead elf, nor did he notice that he dressed his wound; all he could see was the pale face of his sister's fiancée that seemed to have burnt itself into the insides of his eyelids.

A detached part of his mind noted that this was not real, not the present, but it hurt so much that he couldn't free his mind from its influence. And so he felt how he sat down in the shadow of a giant oak tree and began to weep helplessly for his friend and his sister's lost love, and he lost himself in the grief as he had done more than half a millennium ago.

This was only the beginning of the dreams though, and they got progressively worse from then one. They weren't even real dreams, since he was well aware of the fact that they were not real and already knew what would be happening, but that made everything even worse. He tried with all his might to change the things he was forced to relive, with no success however. He couldn't take away the guilt he felt for Amaran's death, couldn't heal his sister's broken heart or convince himself that she didn't look at him with hatred and reproach in her once beautiful eyes. He couldn't protect Legolas when they got captured by orcs, he couldn't see that Glónduil was betraying their people and their allies, was betraying him and their prince…

Soon Celylith was sure that he was going insane. He couldn't bear this any longer, he just couldn't. There were so many things he should have done or said but hadn't, things he should have seen but didn't before it was too late…

He desperately tried to remember what had happened to him that had brought him here, into this situation and time and place, but the memories came back only slowly. Sometimes he thought he heard voices or felt hands on his body, but he wasn't sure about it, he wasn't sure about anything right now. Finally, he thought that the darkness that was enveloping him was lessening somewhat, and once again he heard gruff voices that spoke to each somewhere close by.

Gruff voices, he thought confused, who could that be? As he was fighting his way back to consciousness, he slowly remembered some of what happened. The men that had barred their way … the slope … and then, burning pain in his back, the feeling of falling and then – nothing…

Slowly he became aware of the fact that his back still hurt so badly that he couldn't understand how it was possible that he had missed it until now, and as he began to take in more of his surroundings, he found that he was lying on his left side, but when he tried to move there were hands that were restraining him, pressing him firmly back down.

Panic shot through him. Had he been captured? Had the men that had shot him taken him prisoner? If so, where was his prince, where was Legolas? Or was this another nightmare?

Now very determined to find out what was going on here, he redoubled his efforts to fully wake up, and slowly, the words that were being spoken to him were beginning to make sense.

"Easy, lad, easy … calm down, you are safe here…"

This voice sounded ... wrong, somehow, but his thoughts were too jumbled and confused to pinpoint why. He ceased his struggles though, both for this person's and his own sake. The pain that ripped through his body with every minute movement was so intense that he was sure that he would pass out very soon if he wasn't careful.

Finally, after an eternity, he managed to open one eye, and he was sure that he didn't possess the energy to open the second one. When it had fixed on the face that looked at him though, the other one opened on its own account and so quickly that it would have astounded every physician.

He slowly closed his eyes again and counted to five before opening them again. The picture that greeted him, however, was just the same: A bearded face with a bushy beard and beady eyes that blinked down on him.

"This is a nightmare," he croaked in Elvish, staring at the dwarven face in front of him. "Elbereth, please let it be a nightmare…"

He would have said more, but his parched throat cut off his voice right then. The dwarf simply turned to the right and told a person Celylith couldn't see,

"See? I told you he was waking up."

The elf's eyes drifted shut again, partly to combat the pain that was wreaking havoc in his body and partly to block out the sight in front of him. A dwarf! How had he got to a dwarf? More importantly, why was this dwarf caring for him? He shortly contemplated if he had finally gone insane, but his thoughts were so confused and he felt so very, very tired that he didn't have the energy to follow that train of thought any further.

Someone lifted his head and placed the rim of a cup against his lips, and after a second's hesitation he drank greedily, deciding that this water was the best he had ever had in his more than 2500 years of existence. After a while, the cup was taken away and his head bedded back onto a pillow, but Celylith still refused to open his eyes. He wasn't quite sure if he had the strength to do it anyway, and a small, irrational part of his mind was still hoping that this was a dream and that the dwarven illusion would simply disappear when he refused to acknowledge it.

This hope proved to be futile though, for after some time (he wasn't quite sure how much, since he was right now concentrating on the incredible pain in his back) the gruff voice could be heard again, calling his name.

"Master Celylith! Wake! I know you are not asleep, so wake up!"

The elf tried to ignore the voice, deciding that it was not befitting an elven warrior to talk to hallucinations. He would wake up any minute now and would see his friends or perhaps a human healer from Dale, he was sure of that…

The voice spoke again, vague annoyance in it now.
"Elf, awake! I am growing tired of this!"

Celylith groaned inwardly, but found that he had done it aloud after a few seconds. He recognised this tone of voice; it was something he had heard a lot of times in his life. It was the tone that every healer seemed to possess, may he be elf, human or, apparently, dwarf. Legolas and he had dubbed it the I-am-currently-the-master-of-your-existence-and-if-you-don't-cooperate-with-me-I-will-make-your-life-even-more-miserable-than-it-already-is-tone of voice a few decades ago when they had once again spent some time under Hithrawyn's watchful eyes.

He tried to pry his eyelids open once more, hoping with all his might to see an elven face look down on him, or even a human one. Everything was better than a dwarf; he might even have taken a troll right now.

After an eternity or two, his eyes opened again slowly, and he almost would have groaned aloud once more. The dwarf was still there, and he could even see another one standing behind him. The second dwarf looked vaguely familiar, but try as he might, he could not remember where or if he had seen him before.

The first dwarf gave him a taxing look, as if trying to determine whether or not he would lose consciousness again. Celylith tightened his fragile hold on reality; he would be damned if he fainted in front of a bunch of dwarves. A moment later his resolve was put to the test when his slowly awakening senses reported a myriad of injuries and hurts to his aching brain. Apart from his back, his whole upper body seemed to be on fire, and his head and face hurt horribly.

The combined pain almost served to send him back into unconsciousness, but he somehow managed to stay awake. The first dwarf reached out and placed a hand on his forehead, barely touching the skin, but even at this small contact his head began to hurt intensely.

"He has a fever," he told the other dwarf behind him. "I need to put him back to sleep so his body can heal. He isn't out of danger yet."

Celylith knew that he should feel offended that they talked about him like this, as if he were a piece of furniture standing in a corner, but he was too tired, hot and in too much pain to really care. His mind had shut down to the level where he didn't try to make sense of the things that were going on around him anymore, he simply lay as still as possible and hoped that he would lose consciousness again.

The other dwarf nodded at the healer.
"Is he lucid? Can I talk to him?"

The other shrugged as he picked up a cup and began to slowly administer a sleeping drug to the nearly unconscious elf that would send him into the realm of dreams for the next eight to ten hours.

"I don't know, your Majesty," he admitted, giving his patient a long look. "I have never treated one of their kind before, but he said something earlier. It was in their tongue, though, so he might have been hallucinating."

Dáin nodded curtly and waited until the healer had coaxed all of the potion into the elf's mouth. He eyed the fair being with a look of pity in his dark eyes, something which he was rather sure the other would not have appreciated.

Prince Legolas' companion looked very different from when he had first seen him, but already a lot better than the last time he had laid eyes him. When Frór and his men had brought him to the mountain, he had been almost completely certain that the elf was dead, or would very soon be. Now the dried blood that had seemed to cling to every inch of his body had been washed off, but on second thought he wasn't so sure if that was really an improvement.

The silver haired being's face was so pale that it looked almost translucent, and all over his cheeks and forehead there were large and small gashes and bruises. The healers had assured him that they would heal completely, given time and if he survived the wound to his back, but right now he found it hard to recognise the fair face of the elf in the ruined one in front of his eyes.

The dwarven healer bustled off to crush some more herbs, and Dáin stepped closer to the elf.
"Lord Celylith, do you remember me? Do you know who I am?"

The king looked in vain for some sign of recognition, but the tall being's lips opened, and he whispered something he couldn't quite understand, except for the word "Nightmare", which he seemed to repeat several times. Dáin shook his head unwillingly. The elf's eyes were already beginning to drift shut again as sleep claimed him, and he knew he would have to hurry if he wanted to find out anything.

"Master Elf, where are your companions? Where are Strider and Prince Legolas?"

That seemed to catch Celylith's attention, since the blue eyes opened slowly, the white of the eyes bloodshot and red.
"Legolas is not … here?" he whispered so softly that the dwarven king could hardly understand him.

"No," Dáin shook his head. "A patrol found you yesterday night and brought you back here to the mountain. You were grievously wounded and alone."

Celylith's eyes closed again, and he didn't have the strength to open them again. Whatever that dwarf had given him, it was working, and the inviting darkness came ever closer.

"We were … ambushed," he managed, fighting against unconsciousness as long as possible now that worry had awoken in his heart. "Men … at least fifteen … tried to make for the river … I don't … know what happened … to .. the prince… Elbereth, I don't … know…"

The smaller being nodded grimly. That was making sense, considering what he had heard from Frór, Frerin and the others. So Prince Legolas and the ranger had probably been captured by the men they had talked about, and were now Valar-know-where… He turned his attention back to the elf, but refrained from asking any more questions since everyone could see that he had lost consciousness again. His pale silver hair was spread on the pillow, somehow even accentuating the whiteness of his skin and the red cuts and colouring bruises.

Dáin stepped away from the bed, the biggest one they had been able to find that was still slightly too small for the elf. He needed to convene his council, and they finally needed to come to a decision what to do about these men, and how to find them.

The dwarf clenched his teeth as he slowly made his way to the council chambers, too deeply in thought to pay much attention to the greetings he received from the dwarves whose way he crossed. The ones that had ambushed the elves and the ranger had to be the same ones that had been disturbing his miners, or they were the ones that were responsible for the disappearance and most likely death of his nephews.

'Either way, it doesn't really matter,' he decided as he climbed some steps that led up to the Hall of Thror, 'They will regret their actions, I will make sure of that!'

The King of Erebor wrenched his thoughts away from his brother's sons and took a deep breath as he looked at the dark wooden doors that barred his way and that would lead him to the council chambers. They would find these humans, he swore silently, they would find them and show them what exactly happened when one attacked the dwarves.

Dáin set his jaw and pushed the heavy doors open, silently asking himself just how he would explain all this to the Elvenking.





TBC...





dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger
mellonamin - my friend





*giggles* CLIFFhanger, you got that? Cliff, as in... *claps hand over mouth* Sorry. I always wanted to do something like that, ever since I heard the word clifhanger. Plus my alter ego's on the rampage again, and this time I am having a really hard time stopping her. I think with all this sunshine she somehow grew, like a big evil plant or something... *reads sentence again* Gosh, that's the drugs, sorry... Okay, so, I really don't know when the next chapter's coming, I hope it won't take as long as this time; I don't think I will. But reviews always help. So: Review? Please??

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Additional A/N:

Coreinha - It was my pleasure to 'not make him dead'! Yeah, Legolas is having a pretty bad time right now, I admit that. And I think that somehow, miraculously, Celylith escaped the fate of a punctured lung, because I don't think that he would have survived that long with one, or that he would have survived the journey to the mountain or the dwarven treatment. So - miracle! FF authors can be pretty powerful... *g*
TrinityTheSheDevil - Phew! I escaped the fate of being barbecued! Yay Nili! Well, I am sure Aragorn appreciates your grin at his predicament - then again, perhaps not... And I agree, Geran deserves to be shot - and worse... *evil grin* I'll see what I can do. *watches Trinity camp on her doorstep* I never understood what's so great about roasted marshmellows. *shakes head* Must be an American thing. And your second review: I'm sorry? It wasn't out of meanness (that's not a word, is it? *scratches head*), I promise you. Honestly.
Amelie - You get a far-off look in your eyes when you think about someone's pulse? Girl, you have a problem... *g* My story's to mean to be torture? Uhm, okay, if you say so... Your theory is interesting, but it's a definite No, I'm afraid. I'm sure dwarves grumble a little, but I don't think they really growl that much... Oh, and nobody's upset about the other man because he was only a hired Lake-man. Lomar said that he had hired the two Lake-men (that one and the guard that escaped) for the job, namely to capture Aragorn. So nobody cares, 'cause it wasn't one of Adruran's men. And I don't know yet what to do with Geran, and we'll see more of his dagger, never fear...
Tapetum Lucidum - *g* Yeah, for people who like Legolas that picture might have been a little bit distracting, I give you that... *g* And yes, Celylith is not very happy about owing his life to the dwarves, indeed... *snickers evilly* LOL, Ranger - Cajun style? That was interesting... Uhm, sorry, no dwarf? But I hope you won't be disappointed! Great you liked the whip, I'll tell Geran you liked it - I'm sure that he will be very pleased! *g* And of course! *hands her written invitation* You're invited to the elf hunt! If you get him you my keep him!
Gwyn - Yes, you were right! You would do the same thing? That makes you evil, then... *g* And no, there's no trick, except for the balrog I send after people that don't review.. *g* That might have something to do with it - nah, probably not...
Mouse5 - *huggles her* Thanks! That means a lot to me! You never met anything as evil as me? That's so flattering! And if I do a knife fight, it won't be in the next chapter, I'm afraid, more likely in chapter 24 or 25, I think. Sorry, they refuse to shut up. Not my fault.
LOTRFaith - Who said violence never solved anything? OF COURSE it does! *g* J/k... *watches her laugh maniacally* Uhm, okay, it's all a _very good_ idea, yes, calm down... And yes, I will most likely kill them - and rather sooner than later. Great you liked the chapter!
ManuKu - Nein - Ich hatte den Mut wirklich nicht. Ich _haette_ ihn ja gerne umgebracht, aber ich hatte Angst vor der Celylith Lives Foundation... *g* Und WARUM nehmen alle an, dass das Zwerge im Berg sind? Ich hab' das nie gesagt, ausserdem waere das doch VIEL zu einfach, nech? Und ICH habe hier niemanden durch die Mangel gedreht - das waren Geran und mein Alter Ego, ehrlich! Und dass du nicht so auf Zwerge stehst, ist schon klar, v.a. wenn man die Psycho-Zwerge aus eurer ersten Story bedenkt... *g*
Firnsarnien - Well, if I have appeased the terrible Celylith Lives Foundation, it has been worth it... *g* Well, and even IF you have a detailed map of Essex you would never find me! You don't even know the name of the house, so you have no chance! And your wargs have never smelt me, I am safe! Mhahahahaha! And _I_ am not doing anything to Legolas - it's all Geran's fault ... and my alter ego's... *g*
.Forever Spring. - *tries to speak to her in a calm, soothing voice* I know what you mean ... of course I have been throught the same with various authors ... calm down, that's it, breathe... I am sorry for posting a little late this time, but as mentioned in the A/N, it wasn't my fault. Glad you like it though, and thanks a lot for the review! *huggles*
One15 - *knuddelt zurueck* Natuerlich ist er am Leben, was dachtest du denn, dass ich 'nen Todeswunsch habe? Und du magst Nabur? Ja, er ist wirklich niedlich, vielleicht ein wenig langsam, aber suess. Und ES TUT MIR LEID! Wirklich! Aber ich hatte echt keine Zeit, und habe seit Samstag nix anderes getan als diese dumme HA zu schreiben. Und Ich kaufe mir am 26.8. auch die DVD, da kommt sie naemlich hier raus. Ich werde zu Virgin Records rennen und blitzschnell zugreifen! Mhahahahaha! Und in PotC gehe ich naechste Woche, ich wollte eigentlich schon, seit ich hier bin, aber hab es irgendwie nicht geschafft. Halo und ich treffen uns und dann geht's ab! Beileid zu deinen Zahmspangen, nachdem ich mein viertes Set verloren hatte als ich 10 war, haben meine Eltern aufgegeben... *g*
Fliewatuet - Oh yes, the Celylith Lives Foundation did work. I never really wanted to kill him anyway, but you guys, uhm ... persuaded me definitely not to. *g* And you are right, poor Celylith is really not too happy to find himself in Erebor. *shakes head* How did you guess? LOL, my cruelty is unprecedented? That is a very nice thing to say, but a little bit exaggerated, I think. It wasn't that bad. *modest smile*
Alilacia - *nods* It was 100.6 °F in Kent, which isn't too far from Essex, as you know. *shrugs* Might have been only 99.9 °F though. *g* I love London, I've been there lots of times, but it's really not possible to see it in one day. So I decided to show my sister all the tourist stuff, you know, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Tower Bridge, British Museum, that kind of thing. Was nice though. *g* You're right btw, the last person who got that look is dead now, so that mean Hanar will die too - surprise, surprise... And yes, if I ever visit Plymouth, I'll definitely let you know. I love meeting people I know from here! Most of them are insane though... *g*
Cestari - Well, I guess Hanar, Geran and Adruran are on no-one's favourite list right now... I wonder why? I think they're adorable! *huggles them* And no - *gives her dark, threatening glare* - you won't feed them to your pet, I still need them, you hear me? No harming my characters!
Veryawen - *hangs head* Am I that predictable? But it's true, I never really intended to kill Celylith. And sorry, but Elrond will definitely not come and rescue anybody, since he's in Rivendell and the passes are closed. I'm not sure about Thranduil yet, but I think he won't come either. shrugs* We'll see. Thanks a lot for reviewing!
Sirithiliel - Well, usually I am not that nice to my characters either, but you, the Cellyith Lives Foundation and all that ... I was scared... *g* I am not using a beta at all, I just read it once or twice and check about every other word in the dictionary. I'm too lazy to send everything to another person and wait till it comes back and all that...
Strider's Girl - *sniffs* So I'm not evil anymore? *wails* But I LOVE to be evil! Wahahahahahah! Well, thanks for your kind words anyway, I guess... *sniffs* Not evil ... not fair...
Firniswin - Uhm, well, it _was_ soon? Okay then, not really, but hey.... *shrugs* Thanks for the review!
Imbefaniel - *g* I knew you guys would notice the face bit... And the caves: I don't know? They somehow always seem to end up in the vicinity of on mountain or another... And don't worry about Legolas' back, he's an elf, he heals quickly, and Aragorn will make sure there won't be any scarring - I think. *g* Hope everything's fine with your ex!
A Person - I know, it's kinda clichee, isn't it? I really thought about killing him for good, but I couldn't do that to you guys, not after Nólad in the last story - and there was always the Celylith Lives Foundation, they are really scary... You don't like cliffies? *reads next chapters* Uhm, okay, then don't read on, it wouldn't be good for your health, I think. And yes, you are making very serious threats. *nods* Very.
CrazyLOTRfan - Well, I guess Celylith would love to come back and kill all of the men, but to be honest I don't think that Celylith will be of much use in that way in the immediate future. I mean, it's a bad injury and a bad fall, and he may be an elf, but he's not Superman! Or Superelf, in this case... *g* And I thought you liked cliffies? Huh?
Bec - Uhm, yes, the update soon bit - sorry? I'm sorry, as I said in the A/N, nothing I could do... And Thranduil doesn't even know that Legolas is in trouble, for all he knows he is merely visiting Dale and coming back soon... But perhaps he is getting impatient, who knows? Thanks for the review!
Sirith - Oh, thank you! *blushes* Great you like my weird little story! I hope the waiting wasn't too bad, sorry for letting you wait! Thanks a lot for reviewing!
Zam - Oh, you do? Have a German exchange student, I mean? *evil grin spreading over face* Okay, I want you to do this: Go to him/her and tell her/him the following words (you may write them down if you want to): "Hallo, bitte tu mir und der Welt einen grossen Gefallen und schlag sie, und ihre Schwester auch. So hart wie du kannst. Vertrau mir, sie verdienen es. Falls du es getan hast: Gratulation! Ich und viele andere Menschen beneiden dich! Gut gemacht!" *giggles* And if you're lucky she or he may even translate for you... *evil grin* You are turning orcs into orc toasties? *wide eyes* Okay, if you want to, they're your horde, after all... YOU are distributing these whips? I knew it! That explains a lot! *sighs tiredly* No, Geran and Hanar are NOT gay! You hear me? NOT! They're just sadists! *reads definition of sadism* "The gaining of pleasure or sexual gratification from the infliction of pain and mental suffering on another person" Uh, crap, just ignore the sexual gratification bit, okay? *burows head in hands* Oh dear...
TigerLily713 - A puppy dog? Well, how do I say this ... no? Not really, anyway... And you are right, fighting anything BUT a puppy dog may prove difficult for Aragorn...
LadySandrilene2 - No, things are never bad enought! Mhahahahahaha! *calms down slightly* Sorry, that happens all the time here... And don't worry, there will be H/C, just a little later, but there definitely will be some. *nods* Yes. And no, I don't like Rashwe overly much - he's only a horse, for cryin' out loud! But don't tell him that or I might still get killed here... *g*
Critternut - Where did I come up with the whip thingy ... I dunno, really. Probably another boring lecture - they tend to give me nasty ideas... *g* And no, I don't think that Geran is very popular right now - I wonder why? I have no idea, really... And I really don't think that Celylith himself will come to Aragorn's and Legolas' rescue - I mean, hey! He barely survived in the first place! I don't think he will be able to hold his sword for one or two weeks to come! You have nine cousins? Wow, I have ... *counts* five. That's not really much... Hope you have lots of fun with yours though!
Stacee Phelps - LOL, 'the biggest cliffy in the history of cliffies'? It's not _that_ bad, calm down ... the next chapter's here! A bit too late, I know, but it's here! Yay Nili! *g*
Alex Mistress Squirrel - Uhm, what about yoiur favourite ranger? I don't know - will he live or get eaten by whatever's in the cave? We might never know! LOL, j/k, just read on and you'll see ... kinda, anyway... *evil grin*
Leggylover03 - *wryly* You would. Love Aragorn's situation, I mean. *wide, surprised eyes* You love ranger pain? Really? Who'd have thought? I never thought you would, really... *g*
Aratfeniel - Oh, you're taking ballet classes? I did too, from when I was 6 to when I was 11 years, I think. Then my feet decided that they had enough and quit on me. *shrugs* Probably for the best, too. *hangs head* So you didn't really like the other torture? *sniff* Okay then... *shuffles off* And Celylith's reaction is not exactly what you would describe as 'overjoyed'... *snickers*
Maranwe1 - LOL, that would be very possible, I think - Celylith wakes up and promptly has a heart attack when he sees who he's with... *g* Yup, Geran's all that and more, you're right, but I still kinda like him. I don't know why either, I liked Donyc in my last story too. I have a weak spot for EDs, I guess... *grins sheepishly* This story ... well, I don't really know yet how long it's going to be, but I think about 25 chapters. Plus/minus one or two, I think, probably plus, knowing me... *g*
Carrie - You know, for a second I thought you were another Carrie I know, and was beginning to wonder why she hadn't signed in, but then I noticed that you were not her but you - if you see what I mean. But it's always great to see a new reviewer, so let me huggle you! *huggles her* Okay, done. The salt thing does sound quite bad, btw - and I think I know what you mean, my mother's obsessed with Iodine - which is just as bad as salt in my opinion... It's great you like my insane little story though, and thank you very much for your review! Reviews help me so very much! *huggles again* Thanks!
Brethil, Estelle - Well, that is a weird screen name if I ever saw one... *g* I like it though, it's unusual and that's always good. And I don't know yet about Thranduil, technically he knows that Legolas is going to visit Dale and will be gone for a while, so there's no real need to worry for him. Perhaps he's going to send some warriors to investigate though, I don't know yet. Thanks for the review!
Sr - You can chase her for me, too. Halo takes forever to update anything! It's just horrible! *looks at her own story which is several days too late* Uhm, shutting up now... *sheepish grin*
Elenora1 - I nearly sent you into cardiac arrest? *puts hands together, Mr. Burns-style* Excellent... So you like elf-torture? To be honest, Legolas is no favourite of mine (on my fav elves list he comes fifth), I just torture him too to be fair. I can't only torture Aragorn, it would be mean. *g* *stops gleefully rubbing her hands together in utter delight at all your discomfort* Uhm, no, I don't do that! Really, I feel very bad aboutn what I do to you and my poor characters ... not. *g* Well, I do hope that you didn't go splat on the floor, this time I really am sorry for letting you wait so long. *points at her ear* It's its fault, not mine!
Bailey - *g* Yes, he lives, I really don't understand how anybody could think differently. *shakes head* You're far too trusting... *gulp* Well, I didn't update on Tuesday or Wednesday, so what are you planning? Huh? Always remember: I can't write more when I'm dead, okay? Okay?
Marbienl - *pats her back* I don't think anyone can truly win with FF.net - they're simply too evil and weird... Well, to be honest I don't think that moving your head in any direction is a good idea when somebody is holding a knife to your throat! I wouldn't move at all... *g* I agree, it's a good thing Legolas heals faster than men . he will _definitely_ need that, yes... *evil grin* And I will what kind of death I can come up with for Geran, but NO, it wil NOT be being skinned alive. *shakes head* You people... *catches her* DON'T slap my characters, you hear me? Especially not Frór, he's already unhappy about being in this whole story in the first place! LOL, Celebrían is waiting in that cave? That would be horrible indeed - mothers-in-law are creatures from hell... *g* *looks at Marbienl's dwarven army* I don't think they want to dig, Mar... They look kinda lifeless, too...*g* Well, my dwarves won't act like Gimli in TTT, sorry! I'm writing books here - more or less, that is! Thanks a lot for your great review!
Aron - Yes, Geran IS nasty, and so are his 'toys', I'll admit that. Uhm, okay, that did sound wrong, just ignore it, will you? *g* Memory wipe for Geran? That would be interesting, yes ... but I guess he would still be a nasty person. *shrugs* That's what he is, really. LOL, you know, when I read that part about Geran being so impressed that he worships Legolas as his God, I automatically thought of Star Wars ROTJ, when C-3PO is being worshipped by the Ewoks. *glares at Aron* See what you've done? Now I think of Legolas as C-3PO, great... *g* And yes, I think 'Poor Everyone' would sum it uip quite nicely...
Nilbrethiliel - *g* Wusst' ich's doch, dass dir die kleine Szene mit dem Spruch gefallen wuerde! Ich habe es eigentlich nur 'reingebracht weil wir da vor 'ner Weile drueber geredet hatten... Und na ja, ich glaube in Aragorn's Fall waere no company garantiert besser als this company... *fieses Grinsen* 'Nur ein toter Autor ist ein guter Autor'? Hallo? Auf was bist du denn, du bist doch auch ein Autor, du Depp! *schuettelt Kopf* Wirklich... Schoen, dass du die Zwerge magst, ich mag sie auch, sie sind so schoen grummelig! Sehr nett... Danke fuer deine review und die HA ist fertig! Yay Nili!
TrustingFriendship - *g* Now I have this weird picture in my head of Galadriel as a psychiatrist... I'm sure Elrond would be thrilled to have someone who can take care of his youngest sanity - or insanity... Well, the question of 'what is in there with Aragorn...friend or foe' answers itself, don't you think? This is _my_ story, so have a guess... *evil grin*
NaughtyNat - That's it! A cute, little fluffy bunny that points Aragorn into the direction out of the cave! And it gives him some carrots too! That would be very nice indeed, but this being not a perfect world.... *g* Thanks for reviewing! I missed you when you were away!
Amadaun - Hi! *huggles* It's always great to 'meet' a new reviewer! And I am very glad I brought forth your happy dance, I was just too afraid of the Celylith Lives Foundation to really kill him. And don't worry about your family, they all get used to it - after a year or two, that is. I know exactly what you mean, my family think I'm crazy ... hm, they might be right there... *g* Oh, Gosh, you want recs? Well, Siri's stories are great, Littlefish, Thundera Tiger. Those are the great three in my opinion, they write several times better than me or anyone else. Thanks for your review!
Andboriel Swann - Well, if you don't like cliffies, you just might be reading the wrong story here... *g* I like them, kinda, that is. I LOVE them when I write them, when I have to read them though, it's an entirely different thing... And no, the men don't know whom they have captured. For them they're only a random elf from Mirkwood and a ranger. Thanks a lot for reviewing, they help me immensely!
Alisha B - *embarassed* Well, this time you wouldn't have had to hurry. I'm surprised - and more than a little bit thankful - that you haven't started nagging me yet... As mentioned in the A/N, there's no thunderstorm here and I am still late with this! Wahhh! I'm so sorry, can you forgive me? Please? *puppy-dog-look* Don't worry though, Celylith is about to wake up, just read on. *g* Yes, bad guys are terribly stupid, just like in Austin Powers. "Why don't you kill them? They might get away!" 'No, I will just put them into an easily escapable situation and assume that everything went according to plan...' LOL, it's always like that... I'm very glad to hear that you didn't get blown away or something! I would hate to lose one of my favourite reviewers! *huggles Alisha* Thanks for your TWO reviews!
Vampy2k - Trust me, I WILL add at least Glorfindel to the next story, because I have promised Cathy (XsilicaX), who is a little bit obsessed with the dear golden haired elf. I wouldn't want to see what happens if I break that promise... *shudders* Thanks for your review!
Eva27 - I always wanted to go to Canada - perhaps I will some day. You never know. A friend of mine was an exchange student there for a year and still tells everybody how wonderful and beautiful it is... *g* Great to hear you still like the story, but: I'm confused. You said you would hook me and Cyd up, and then you signed with 'Cyd'? Huh? How does that work? And I'll see what I can do about the curses, the thing is that Sindarin is not exactly the best language for cursing - Quenya is worse, though. But I'll see.
Halo - Great! I thought you were cross with me or something... I'll send you an email, we have to meet either Sunday or next week! WE HAVE TO!!!! Sorry for your screen though, I know how horrible it can be... *huggles Halo*
Asha Dreamweaver - Uhm, thank you? Great you like it, and thanks a lot for the review! It isn't really soon, but I hope I didn't let you wait TOO long... *g*
ThE iNsAnE oNe - Sorry Miki, I just got your review a second ago but don't have time to read it and reply. I'm sure that it's great as usual though, thanks! *huggles her* Will it it tomorrow!

Once again, SORRY for not updating any sooner. Blame my ear, not me. Any weird comments are the fault of my friend Ibuprofen. Thanks a lot for all your wonderful reviews!! *dances off to chase pink elephants*