Disclaimer: I own Tirdin, Vanamire, and Nifien, nothing more!
Alright. I am so incredibly sorry for the wait, seriously, I am! But there were finals, and I was out with my friends every day of the finals until school ended, and there was Harry Potter (which I finished in 3 days. And J K Rowling sucks at death scenes. Would say/complain more, but I don't know who's read it or not), and then I was in a slump and had no clue what on earth to write before J dragged me out of it, then I was in ANOTHER slump, and then I had a bit of a personal issue nagging at me. So yeah. That is my excuse. ON WITH IT! It is very late so I cannot say any more.
Alright. Most of it was written last night, so forgive me for any spelling or grammatical errors. And there is a lot of elvish in this one, but I've put the translations in brackets beside it for your sake. The elvish was REALLY annoying because there were no words for those that I wanted to use, so some sentences may sound kind of weird in translation, but whatever.
* * *
Glimmers of dawn were teasing the world with tiny glimpses over the horizon, when Legolas woke, alone, the cool morning air biting at his bare chest. The scorched flesh on his one leg stung dully as he recounted his dream.
He had seen his father . . .his dead father . . .with his head cocked to the side at an odd angle, his eyes clouded over but wide in some unreadable expression, somewhere between pain and surprise. But what struck him most was that his father was smiling. Smiling a horrible, twisted grin that did not rid itself from his dark lips and pale face.
He couldn't quite remember if his father had spoken, but suddenly everything was moving backwards, as if rewinding. Then it stopped, and played forward again.
Arms stretched out . . .Legolas' arms, his own . . .his hands wrapped around Thranduil's neck, and with one sickening jerk and a crack, his hands, his hands snapped his own fathers neck.
He had murdered his father.
Then he had looked down in horror at his arms. They were becoming that same scorched texture of black, scalded flesh mingled with red blood and muscle tissue. All over his body, burning, burning, burning so badly he had not the strength the cry out. Long, deep cuts found their place on his body, his face slowly becoming one not his own. Before he knew it, he was changed. He was no longer Legolas the prince of Mirkwood.
He was an orc.
A filthy orc, a bloody thirsty goblin, a cruel, mindless, murderous, sadistic monster. That could not have been him, those thoughts . . .those thoughts of pain that seemed to come almost in . . .pleasure . . . No, there was no way that could have been him.
But it was.
And he remembered now what Saruman had told him. He had said that orcs were once elves. Like him. His own brethren. Whom he had battled and killed {Murdered!} over the thousands of solar years of his life.
No, I can't go blaming myself again, he chided himself mentally. I didn't know.
{So? If you didn't know that someone you saw sneaking around your house at night was your dearest friend, and you killed him, would that excuse you?}
He didn't reply to his thoughts. But he knew that word lurking beneath the surface.
{No.}
He forced the issue aside. It did not deserve his dwelling mind as much as another. The image of Thranduil, with his snapped neck and dead eyes, and that lingering grin, sprung into his mind. Is that what had happened? Had Saruman {it was not Saruman, it was you, it was you!} just . . .just snatched the life from him? From that elf who had never shown a weakness, whom had never admitted to need or to emotion . . . .how could it have happened so easily?
Only then did he hear the approaching footsteps.
Hurriedly, he dried his eyes threatening to tear, and pushed himself up, moving himself so that his legs dangled over the side of the bed.
"You're awake already?"
"Aye. Dreams and dreams and dreams . . ."
Haldir smiled kindly down at his friend, and sat next to him. It did not escape his notice Legolas' horribly slim frame, his ribs showing themselves plain and clearly through his scarred flesh. He had always had a smaller frame than most, but now it was painful to look upon.
"I know it's early, but Celeborn sent me to discuss this with you." Legolas nodded, showing he understood, but not making eye contact. "You are the eldest prince of Mirkwood. It is handed to you, the responsibility of ruling your fathers realm."
Legolas raised his eyes to Haldir's. The careful mask that seemed forever present on the prince's face was back in place, but there was a crack. Haldir saw that tiny glimmer of dread in his eyes.
"Tirdin . . .does he know yet? What of my brother?" A hint of panic surfaced in his voice.
"He arrived here last night. That's why I came to speak with you before he does." Legolas slumped back into a moping slouch. That guilt still hung like a great cloud over his heart. He dreaded now the encounter with his brother.
"So these issues may be what he's come to discuss with you. He does know vaguely what happened."
They lingered together a while longer, enjoying the company of each other in withdrawn silence. Suddenly Haldir stood. "I have some duties to attend to." He turned to Legolas, and looking him straight in the eye, kneeling so as to be level with him, asked seriously, "Are you going to be all right, mellon nin?"
Legolas sighed. He shrugged helplessly. It was no use hiding himself from his friend. Besides, it took too much energy.
Haldir placed his hand on Legolas' bony shoulder and gave a hard squeeze. "I'll return as soon as I can."
"I'll be here."
They smiled quietly, and Haldir departed. Another hour passed in lonely silence for Legolas, and he was just wondering where his brother could have gotten to, when his elven ears picked up soft footsteps approaching. He straightened himself, unusually nervous. He didn't have time to cover his damaged, but healing legs as a small silhouette appeared.
"Mae govannen, vinya Mirkwoodhir (greetings, new lord of Mirkwood)," came a passive voice. An elf smaller in height than most elves made his way to Legolas. Ebony hair hung limply past his shoulders, down his common choice of crimson coloured robes. But what always struck Legolas was his eyes; his eyes, like ice, so hard and cold, pale blue ice of what Legolas always thought of as frozen tears, unshed for all his life. And they locked on Legolas', unfaltering and penetrating.
"Havo dad, Tirdin (sit down, Tirdin)," Legolas said pleasantly enough, trying to ignore the title his brother had given him. It astounded him how different they both were. Legolas himself was the image of his father, and Tirdin like a twin to Vanamírë, their mother. Tirdin took a seat on a chair, pulling it closer to Legolas' bed.
"Ped tenn' nin o le mor dagnir, Legolas (speak unto me of your dark bane, Legolas)"
His voice was soft, and Legolas thought he saw a glimmer of genuine sympathy in Tirdin's eyes, but was preoccupied with the question. He shook his head, not sure how to say what was running through his head. How could he tell all he had gone through to this brother, whose face remained unchallenged by joy nor sorrow, and whose eyes remained frozen as a winter's river? It was hard to believe he even desired in the least to hear his story.
"Túl si, ped tenn' nin (come now, speak unto me)." There was almost hurt there. Almost. But Legolas was sure he imagined it. How could his refusal hurt his indestructible brother, who had survived so much without as much as a tear?
Legolas sighed and dropped his gaze. "Nin orë navar echuiro hinrín (my heart is unwilling to stir these remembrances)."
Tirdin sighed. They sat in silence for a moment.
Le baran Mirkwoodo, si (you are king of Mirkwood, now)," Tirdin said suddenly, with a cheer in his voice, evidently trying to lighten Legolas' mood. However, his small grin faltered when Legolas' features didn't move. "Man na hi nwalme edhel aiynin? Úi thalion edhel Im mel (Who is this tormented elf I behold? Not the dauntless elf I love)."
Legolas nearly started at that. Love . . .? When had either of the brothers ever showed a kind gesture to the other, let alone one of love? Tirdin must have caught his surprise. He reached out, but paused before resting his hand on Legolas' knee, and instead found his arm. Legolas raised his eyes.
Tears brimmed on Tirdin's eyes, that ice finally melting, finally letting flow those unshed tears, and Tirdin's common passive composure was cracked with an almost apologetic, hesitant grin. Something about seeing his little brother on the verge of tears startled him. Not in all of Legolas' life had he heard Tirdin speak with love, with sorrow, with anger. He had never wept, never showed his joy at anything around anyone. Suddenly seeing him with emotion brought a realization upon Legolas.
He had always seen Tirdin as indestructible, the one that nothing could break, nothing could hurt . . .he had thought him to be, something like . . .inhuman. But now he realized his mistake.
He reached out to Tirdin and pulled the smaller one close to him in a tight embrace. Tirdin tensed briefly at his sudden movement, but returned it with just as much desperate love as Legolas.
"Le nant dolen ninello (you were hidden from me)," Legolas whispered.
"Im non esgal si (I'm not hiding now)."
Legolas felt tears in his eyes. Tears of relief. He had someone to cry to now. With this thought, he suddenly realized that though Tirdin had mentioned Legolas' new title of King of Mirkwood, he had never brought into the conversation the death of their father.
"Imuva ped le nin nwalme si, vanwa er (I will tell you my torment now, lost one)."
And for that time that his brother was there, he forgot his troubles. His heart was light, even as he spoke of the evil that had befallen him.
" . . .They brought in another, then. A she-elf, called Nifien. Still she resides here. You should talk to her, Tirdin." Tirdin grinned, despite his horror at Legolas' tale. But Legolas continued on, wincing himself now and again, as he remembered beatings that he had since forgotten. By the time he had finished, it was high noon, and a servant arrived with a delicious looking meal for them both.
While they ate, Tirdin could not help but notice Legolas' ravenous appetite, in addition to his bony frame. They starved him, he thought and felt his anger rise within him. They poisoned him, beat him, mocked him, starved him. He didn't say it out loud, but he could tell Saruman had struck Legolas' mind with his cruelty. Something was cutting Legolas deeper than knives and whips and flame could ever reach. The elf was not himself.
The servant returned when they had finished and wordlessly took away their dishes. Legolas looked at Tirdin, his eyes meaningful, and finally beginning to regain their sparkle. "What of you, Tirdin?" When Tirdin looked at him questioningly, he continued. "What kept you from us all these long years, brother? I hardly know you."
Tirdin drew in his breath. Thoughts, memories, raced through his mind, his heart suddenly quickening. His mind battled his heart, his mouth caught in the crossfire.
"That is a story for another time," he compromised. He knew Legolas would be suspicious, but that didn't matter. "What of your new title, King Legolas?" he asked cheekily, changing the subject.
Legolas sighed. "That is something I had no wish for, really. And besides, I still remain a part of the Fellowship. I feel it my duty to return to them."
"But you will return to rule Mirkwood, will you not?" Tirdin could not hide his hope. He had always thought that Legolas would make a great ruler. The elves loved him, and for good reason.
Again, Legolas sighed. "I do not know. I have never wished to be ruler. My heart belongs in the freedoms of life, not one of responsibility."
"No, you never were one for that, were you." They laughed together, but awkward silence followed.
"Tirdin . . ."
"Yes?"
Legolas hesitated. What if he denied . . .No, he had to ask him anyways.
"What would you say," he spoke slowly, careful with his words, "if I asked you to rule in my place?"
Legolas almost smiled at Tirdin's astonished expression.
"I ask it as brothers, Tirdin. For I see in you one to lead our people of the darkness. You are strong, and strength is what Mirkwood needs now."
Tirdin mouthed silent words, his eyes still wide in surprise. But he looked at Legolas, and saw in him that this was no jest. He saw real need, no disillusioned plea for release. With a deep breath, he replied.
"As you wish, brother."
Legolas laughed out loud then, and his mirthful voice echoed in the trees. It felt so good to laugh again! He had no laughed in so long, and now to laugh, and with his brother, mind you! He wondered in his heart at the ways of the world, how on moment he could be broken and dead inside, and the next laughing and loving everyone with new compassion.
But there was always, always that voice in his head, telling him everything, telling him everything he wanted to forget.
{I know why you pass this to your brother.}
He listened to Tirdin telling of some misshapen maiden he had come across one day, smiling and laughing at all the right parts. But he was listening to his own voice too.
{Because you killed Thranduil.}
All signs of merriment vanished in an instant. Tirdin stopped his storytelling, confused by Legolas' sudden change of mood.
{And you wouldn't want a murderer to rule a kingdom, would you.}
"Legolas.?"
"Please, I need some time alone now." Tirdin nodded, as if he understood. "I am sorry, but my heart is fickle now and turns on me when I am most relying on it."
Tirdin stood, and embraced his brother ere he left. As soon as he was out of sight, Legolas' muscles tensed visibly. That voice was not his own.
{Who are you?}
{You know who I am. And I can tell you who you are.}
{I know who I am.}
{You're a murderer.}
Legolas tensed more as the voice spoke, almost with glee.
{Get out.}
The voice laughed.
{Make me.}
* * *
ALRIGHT! I BETTER GET A GOOD LOAD OF REVIEWS, BECAUSE THAT ELVISH STUFF TOOK ME FOREVER AND I AM VERY TIRED AND IT IS 11:15 AT NIGHT!
*breath in, breath out *
Okay, I'm done. That chapter turned out WAY differently than planned. I was going to make Tirdin all hostile, but yeah. Weird. Oh, and the responses to reviews may not be all they're cracked up to be.
Angel of Death: Ah, liking Nifien better? Hm. I have more planned for her. ^.^
Skye: Well, sorry if you still don't know much about Tirdin, but you will. I'll find a way. I've got him figured out. That's a start.
GemGemJoo: Yes! Thank you for getting me out of the slump! THANK YOU!
Goma-Ry Immortal Vampire: I still love him too. I mean, how can we not?
Erhothwen: More angst on its way!
Sweet-n-sour-slytherin: His brother is here. I'm only having one brother, too many characters screws me up.
Lady of the Forest: You feel his pain? Wow, do I feel sorry for you! Heh
Ankhesanamun: Beat em and eat em, that's the way to go, yup!
Toby: Oh, far from the end, my friend! Far from it!
Merrylyn: Chocolate always makes things better. Too bad my mom has started hiding the chocolate chips from me.
Lia Strife: You are interesting. I thought you would like Tirdin. I think you'll like him more once I kind of remember myself and explain about his past and stuff.
Nay: Screw you. I want a virgin margarita.
That's it for now! GOOD NIGHT FOLKS! I will seriously try my hardest not to keep you delayed for so long any longer!
~Searcher of Souls~
Alright. I am so incredibly sorry for the wait, seriously, I am! But there were finals, and I was out with my friends every day of the finals until school ended, and there was Harry Potter (which I finished in 3 days. And J K Rowling sucks at death scenes. Would say/complain more, but I don't know who's read it or not), and then I was in a slump and had no clue what on earth to write before J dragged me out of it, then I was in ANOTHER slump, and then I had a bit of a personal issue nagging at me. So yeah. That is my excuse. ON WITH IT! It is very late so I cannot say any more.
Alright. Most of it was written last night, so forgive me for any spelling or grammatical errors. And there is a lot of elvish in this one, but I've put the translations in brackets beside it for your sake. The elvish was REALLY annoying because there were no words for those that I wanted to use, so some sentences may sound kind of weird in translation, but whatever.
* * *
Glimmers of dawn were teasing the world with tiny glimpses over the horizon, when Legolas woke, alone, the cool morning air biting at his bare chest. The scorched flesh on his one leg stung dully as he recounted his dream.
He had seen his father . . .his dead father . . .with his head cocked to the side at an odd angle, his eyes clouded over but wide in some unreadable expression, somewhere between pain and surprise. But what struck him most was that his father was smiling. Smiling a horrible, twisted grin that did not rid itself from his dark lips and pale face.
He couldn't quite remember if his father had spoken, but suddenly everything was moving backwards, as if rewinding. Then it stopped, and played forward again.
Arms stretched out . . .Legolas' arms, his own . . .his hands wrapped around Thranduil's neck, and with one sickening jerk and a crack, his hands, his hands snapped his own fathers neck.
He had murdered his father.
Then he had looked down in horror at his arms. They were becoming that same scorched texture of black, scalded flesh mingled with red blood and muscle tissue. All over his body, burning, burning, burning so badly he had not the strength the cry out. Long, deep cuts found their place on his body, his face slowly becoming one not his own. Before he knew it, he was changed. He was no longer Legolas the prince of Mirkwood.
He was an orc.
A filthy orc, a bloody thirsty goblin, a cruel, mindless, murderous, sadistic monster. That could not have been him, those thoughts . . .those thoughts of pain that seemed to come almost in . . .pleasure . . . No, there was no way that could have been him.
But it was.
And he remembered now what Saruman had told him. He had said that orcs were once elves. Like him. His own brethren. Whom he had battled and killed {Murdered!} over the thousands of solar years of his life.
No, I can't go blaming myself again, he chided himself mentally. I didn't know.
{So? If you didn't know that someone you saw sneaking around your house at night was your dearest friend, and you killed him, would that excuse you?}
He didn't reply to his thoughts. But he knew that word lurking beneath the surface.
{No.}
He forced the issue aside. It did not deserve his dwelling mind as much as another. The image of Thranduil, with his snapped neck and dead eyes, and that lingering grin, sprung into his mind. Is that what had happened? Had Saruman {it was not Saruman, it was you, it was you!} just . . .just snatched the life from him? From that elf who had never shown a weakness, whom had never admitted to need or to emotion . . . .how could it have happened so easily?
Only then did he hear the approaching footsteps.
Hurriedly, he dried his eyes threatening to tear, and pushed himself up, moving himself so that his legs dangled over the side of the bed.
"You're awake already?"
"Aye. Dreams and dreams and dreams . . ."
Haldir smiled kindly down at his friend, and sat next to him. It did not escape his notice Legolas' horribly slim frame, his ribs showing themselves plain and clearly through his scarred flesh. He had always had a smaller frame than most, but now it was painful to look upon.
"I know it's early, but Celeborn sent me to discuss this with you." Legolas nodded, showing he understood, but not making eye contact. "You are the eldest prince of Mirkwood. It is handed to you, the responsibility of ruling your fathers realm."
Legolas raised his eyes to Haldir's. The careful mask that seemed forever present on the prince's face was back in place, but there was a crack. Haldir saw that tiny glimmer of dread in his eyes.
"Tirdin . . .does he know yet? What of my brother?" A hint of panic surfaced in his voice.
"He arrived here last night. That's why I came to speak with you before he does." Legolas slumped back into a moping slouch. That guilt still hung like a great cloud over his heart. He dreaded now the encounter with his brother.
"So these issues may be what he's come to discuss with you. He does know vaguely what happened."
They lingered together a while longer, enjoying the company of each other in withdrawn silence. Suddenly Haldir stood. "I have some duties to attend to." He turned to Legolas, and looking him straight in the eye, kneeling so as to be level with him, asked seriously, "Are you going to be all right, mellon nin?"
Legolas sighed. He shrugged helplessly. It was no use hiding himself from his friend. Besides, it took too much energy.
Haldir placed his hand on Legolas' bony shoulder and gave a hard squeeze. "I'll return as soon as I can."
"I'll be here."
They smiled quietly, and Haldir departed. Another hour passed in lonely silence for Legolas, and he was just wondering where his brother could have gotten to, when his elven ears picked up soft footsteps approaching. He straightened himself, unusually nervous. He didn't have time to cover his damaged, but healing legs as a small silhouette appeared.
"Mae govannen, vinya Mirkwoodhir (greetings, new lord of Mirkwood)," came a passive voice. An elf smaller in height than most elves made his way to Legolas. Ebony hair hung limply past his shoulders, down his common choice of crimson coloured robes. But what always struck Legolas was his eyes; his eyes, like ice, so hard and cold, pale blue ice of what Legolas always thought of as frozen tears, unshed for all his life. And they locked on Legolas', unfaltering and penetrating.
"Havo dad, Tirdin (sit down, Tirdin)," Legolas said pleasantly enough, trying to ignore the title his brother had given him. It astounded him how different they both were. Legolas himself was the image of his father, and Tirdin like a twin to Vanamírë, their mother. Tirdin took a seat on a chair, pulling it closer to Legolas' bed.
"Ped tenn' nin o le mor dagnir, Legolas (speak unto me of your dark bane, Legolas)"
His voice was soft, and Legolas thought he saw a glimmer of genuine sympathy in Tirdin's eyes, but was preoccupied with the question. He shook his head, not sure how to say what was running through his head. How could he tell all he had gone through to this brother, whose face remained unchallenged by joy nor sorrow, and whose eyes remained frozen as a winter's river? It was hard to believe he even desired in the least to hear his story.
"Túl si, ped tenn' nin (come now, speak unto me)." There was almost hurt there. Almost. But Legolas was sure he imagined it. How could his refusal hurt his indestructible brother, who had survived so much without as much as a tear?
Legolas sighed and dropped his gaze. "Nin orë navar echuiro hinrín (my heart is unwilling to stir these remembrances)."
Tirdin sighed. They sat in silence for a moment.
Le baran Mirkwoodo, si (you are king of Mirkwood, now)," Tirdin said suddenly, with a cheer in his voice, evidently trying to lighten Legolas' mood. However, his small grin faltered when Legolas' features didn't move. "Man na hi nwalme edhel aiynin? Úi thalion edhel Im mel (Who is this tormented elf I behold? Not the dauntless elf I love)."
Legolas nearly started at that. Love . . .? When had either of the brothers ever showed a kind gesture to the other, let alone one of love? Tirdin must have caught his surprise. He reached out, but paused before resting his hand on Legolas' knee, and instead found his arm. Legolas raised his eyes.
Tears brimmed on Tirdin's eyes, that ice finally melting, finally letting flow those unshed tears, and Tirdin's common passive composure was cracked with an almost apologetic, hesitant grin. Something about seeing his little brother on the verge of tears startled him. Not in all of Legolas' life had he heard Tirdin speak with love, with sorrow, with anger. He had never wept, never showed his joy at anything around anyone. Suddenly seeing him with emotion brought a realization upon Legolas.
He had always seen Tirdin as indestructible, the one that nothing could break, nothing could hurt . . .he had thought him to be, something like . . .inhuman. But now he realized his mistake.
He reached out to Tirdin and pulled the smaller one close to him in a tight embrace. Tirdin tensed briefly at his sudden movement, but returned it with just as much desperate love as Legolas.
"Le nant dolen ninello (you were hidden from me)," Legolas whispered.
"Im non esgal si (I'm not hiding now)."
Legolas felt tears in his eyes. Tears of relief. He had someone to cry to now. With this thought, he suddenly realized that though Tirdin had mentioned Legolas' new title of King of Mirkwood, he had never brought into the conversation the death of their father.
"Imuva ped le nin nwalme si, vanwa er (I will tell you my torment now, lost one)."
And for that time that his brother was there, he forgot his troubles. His heart was light, even as he spoke of the evil that had befallen him.
" . . .They brought in another, then. A she-elf, called Nifien. Still she resides here. You should talk to her, Tirdin." Tirdin grinned, despite his horror at Legolas' tale. But Legolas continued on, wincing himself now and again, as he remembered beatings that he had since forgotten. By the time he had finished, it was high noon, and a servant arrived with a delicious looking meal for them both.
While they ate, Tirdin could not help but notice Legolas' ravenous appetite, in addition to his bony frame. They starved him, he thought and felt his anger rise within him. They poisoned him, beat him, mocked him, starved him. He didn't say it out loud, but he could tell Saruman had struck Legolas' mind with his cruelty. Something was cutting Legolas deeper than knives and whips and flame could ever reach. The elf was not himself.
The servant returned when they had finished and wordlessly took away their dishes. Legolas looked at Tirdin, his eyes meaningful, and finally beginning to regain their sparkle. "What of you, Tirdin?" When Tirdin looked at him questioningly, he continued. "What kept you from us all these long years, brother? I hardly know you."
Tirdin drew in his breath. Thoughts, memories, raced through his mind, his heart suddenly quickening. His mind battled his heart, his mouth caught in the crossfire.
"That is a story for another time," he compromised. He knew Legolas would be suspicious, but that didn't matter. "What of your new title, King Legolas?" he asked cheekily, changing the subject.
Legolas sighed. "That is something I had no wish for, really. And besides, I still remain a part of the Fellowship. I feel it my duty to return to them."
"But you will return to rule Mirkwood, will you not?" Tirdin could not hide his hope. He had always thought that Legolas would make a great ruler. The elves loved him, and for good reason.
Again, Legolas sighed. "I do not know. I have never wished to be ruler. My heart belongs in the freedoms of life, not one of responsibility."
"No, you never were one for that, were you." They laughed together, but awkward silence followed.
"Tirdin . . ."
"Yes?"
Legolas hesitated. What if he denied . . .No, he had to ask him anyways.
"What would you say," he spoke slowly, careful with his words, "if I asked you to rule in my place?"
Legolas almost smiled at Tirdin's astonished expression.
"I ask it as brothers, Tirdin. For I see in you one to lead our people of the darkness. You are strong, and strength is what Mirkwood needs now."
Tirdin mouthed silent words, his eyes still wide in surprise. But he looked at Legolas, and saw in him that this was no jest. He saw real need, no disillusioned plea for release. With a deep breath, he replied.
"As you wish, brother."
Legolas laughed out loud then, and his mirthful voice echoed in the trees. It felt so good to laugh again! He had no laughed in so long, and now to laugh, and with his brother, mind you! He wondered in his heart at the ways of the world, how on moment he could be broken and dead inside, and the next laughing and loving everyone with new compassion.
But there was always, always that voice in his head, telling him everything, telling him everything he wanted to forget.
{I know why you pass this to your brother.}
He listened to Tirdin telling of some misshapen maiden he had come across one day, smiling and laughing at all the right parts. But he was listening to his own voice too.
{Because you killed Thranduil.}
All signs of merriment vanished in an instant. Tirdin stopped his storytelling, confused by Legolas' sudden change of mood.
{And you wouldn't want a murderer to rule a kingdom, would you.}
"Legolas.?"
"Please, I need some time alone now." Tirdin nodded, as if he understood. "I am sorry, but my heart is fickle now and turns on me when I am most relying on it."
Tirdin stood, and embraced his brother ere he left. As soon as he was out of sight, Legolas' muscles tensed visibly. That voice was not his own.
{Who are you?}
{You know who I am. And I can tell you who you are.}
{I know who I am.}
{You're a murderer.}
Legolas tensed more as the voice spoke, almost with glee.
{Get out.}
The voice laughed.
{Make me.}
* * *
ALRIGHT! I BETTER GET A GOOD LOAD OF REVIEWS, BECAUSE THAT ELVISH STUFF TOOK ME FOREVER AND I AM VERY TIRED AND IT IS 11:15 AT NIGHT!
*breath in, breath out *
Okay, I'm done. That chapter turned out WAY differently than planned. I was going to make Tirdin all hostile, but yeah. Weird. Oh, and the responses to reviews may not be all they're cracked up to be.
Angel of Death: Ah, liking Nifien better? Hm. I have more planned for her. ^.^
Skye: Well, sorry if you still don't know much about Tirdin, but you will. I'll find a way. I've got him figured out. That's a start.
GemGemJoo: Yes! Thank you for getting me out of the slump! THANK YOU!
Goma-Ry Immortal Vampire: I still love him too. I mean, how can we not?
Erhothwen: More angst on its way!
Sweet-n-sour-slytherin: His brother is here. I'm only having one brother, too many characters screws me up.
Lady of the Forest: You feel his pain? Wow, do I feel sorry for you! Heh
Ankhesanamun: Beat em and eat em, that's the way to go, yup!
Toby: Oh, far from the end, my friend! Far from it!
Merrylyn: Chocolate always makes things better. Too bad my mom has started hiding the chocolate chips from me.
Lia Strife: You are interesting. I thought you would like Tirdin. I think you'll like him more once I kind of remember myself and explain about his past and stuff.
Nay: Screw you. I want a virgin margarita.
That's it for now! GOOD NIGHT FOLKS! I will seriously try my hardest not to keep you delayed for so long any longer!
~Searcher of Souls~