*gasps* Could it be… a… a long chapter? Can I do that? Am I aloud? Hold on one moment; let me get my Author's Handbook. … Hmm… Would you look at that. It says here that long chapters are preferred. Who knew?
*loudness ensues from the background as many readers give their answers*
Oh, you did? Well why didn't you tell me?
*ducks flying vegetables*
*author peels rotten lettuce from hair* Well, despite your protests I'm sorry to say that long chapters are just not in my future criteria. And I know this because… *dramatic music plays* I've finished the story!! Yup, it's 100% done. There are 11 chapters in all. Cool huh? What? What's that? Why don't I start posting more often? Well, if I did that you guys wouldn't have time to review all the chapters. And I want everyone to have the opportunity to do so. :)
To my lovely, and numerous *grins*, reviewers -
MG87 - Yes, yes Elladan's condition was quite the upset to you, my lovely readers. Well, read on to see how our dear eldest twin fairs. And as for the cliffies, I do so enjoy them? *gives an evil grin*
Coolio02 - Why thank you!
Deana - Thank you very much. And as for our dear elf and ranger, we'll just have to see now won't we.
aragorns-gurls33 - Cliffies are evil aren't they? But I do so love them. As for the insanity and rage, ect. do not worry. I'll say no more than that that. *grins* And I place Estel at around 18 years, give or take. And the elvish I got from a wonderful wonderful sight with a program you can download called 'Dragon Flame'. It's kinda like a Sindarin to English dictionary. It's very helpful. But I sadly do not remember the address. I deleted it after I downloaded the program. But if you e-mail me (addy found in my profile) I may just have tracked it down by then, because yes, I would like to be lín mellon. Thy friend. There is no word in Sindarin for 'your'. That happens a lot though, so substitutes are necessary. I hope to hear from you soon!
silvertoekee - Cliffhangers, how do I love thee? I know, I know, I hate it when author's do it to me, then I turn around and do it to my readers. Ah well. What can a girl do? And you should know by now that I don't update quickly. *grins*
Mokingbird4 - Yes, yes it is. *grins* Thanks so much!
ElvenRanger13 - Aren't I though? *laughs maniacally*
Cosmic Castaway - I like your name, it's cool. *crosses arms angrily* But I do not respond well to threats. You should expect a very meanly worded letter in the mail. Just as soon as I find your real name, your address, and my stationary set. *grins*
elfmage - Ah yes, angst is fun. I'm glad you enjoyed it so far, I hope the same is true for the future.
LegolasLover2003 - Hehe. You actually stole it again. My 'until next time' line. And your welcome for the chapter, and yes I agree Estel needs to help Legolas. But will he? *dramatic music ensues*
CrazyStar314 - I am more than willing to offer our dear elf a hug, as I'm sure is everyone else here. *grins* Maybe if he gets enough he won't be so psychotic.
"Memories of Ilithien"
Chapter 7 - Broken and Scattered
Lindelen paced nervous circles across the battle-stained field. It had been over an hour since the Noldor warriors had returned, the orcs slain in the dark woods, but his young brother was still on the hunt. The elder prince was exhausted, after his mad run from Mirkwood, followed immediately by the battle; his body felt as if it were made of stone and his limbs barely moved. But he would not give in to the exhaustion until his brother was safe. He could not rest while he was in peril.
The eldest prince looked around the field, at all those that had helped to save his brother. At the warriors that were piling the dead carcasses. Avarilas, whose shoulders hunched in shame as he cast despairing looks towards the forest, searching for his lord and friend. The twins, one badly wounded, the other holding on to him as if to chain him to this life. And at the young human who helped to clean the ruined field, a guilty, sorrowful expression in his impossibly young eyes.
Elrond walked up beside him, leaving the few wounded elves in the care of others, as Lindelen made to start another anxious circle across the grass. When Elrond stopped beside him the much younger elf stopped pacing and bowed, hand to his heart.
"Any word?" The elf lord asked, nodding in acknowledgement as the prince straightened.
Lindelen shook his head. "The trees will not speak to me. They concentrate on him. He always had a stronger relationship with the forests than I."
"But he lives yet?" Elrond asked, one eyebrow rising in question. Lindelen nodded. "Then do not fear for him, Prince, for your brother is strong."
Lindelen nodded again, knowing what the ancient elf said was true, but as Elrond turned to leave he started to pace once again.
*
"I am sorry, Ada." Estel said softly, his head bowed in shame as his father gently pulled him away from the elves.
"I know you are, Estel." Elrond replied, placing a gentle hand under the boy's chin and lifting his head. "I did not come here to reprimand you." Estel nodded but would not meet the elf's wise eyes.
"Why did you release him, Estel?" Elrond asked after a moment of silence.
Estel turned away from his father again, his eyes looking out towards the horizon and the setting sun. "Estel?" The elf lord asked softly, placing a comforting hand on his foster son's shoulder.
"He said my father was weak." The young human choked out, tears filling his gray eyes. "And that is why he died. He said I only lived at Imladris because you pitied me."
Elrond sighed and pulled his youngest child into his arms, wrapping him protectively in his embrace. "Ion nin," He whispered, stroking the boy's hair as the young human moved closer to his father, burrowing into the elf's neck as the tears threatened to fall. "The prince was angry and knew what it would take to hurt you. It is not true." ("My son,")
"But he meant it." Estel cried softly, pulling away from the elf lord, wiping at the tears on his face. The rpince's statements, the vehemence behind the awful words, had made the young human wonder if perhaps all elves thought as the prince did.
"Perhaps." Elrond said, the look in his ancient eyes not betraying any feeling at all. "But you must understand, Estel, the prince has been hurt deeply by mankind. And it is not a pain that will ever fade I fear."
"I've heard all this before!" Estel shouted, gaining the attention of several others on the field. He glanced at them, embarrassed and quickly quieted, though none of the anger left his eyes. "All my years at Imladris I have been told that something happened to him. Ever since the first day we encountered each other and he threatened my life, much like he did today in the woods when I did nothing but try to help him.
And in all this time none will tell me what happened! I don't even know why the prince hates me when I have done nothing to him. I don't know why every time he saw me with Ilithien he glared at me as if he wished nothing more than to slit my throat, when I wished them nothing but happiness!"
"Estel." Elrond tried to sooth his angry son.
"No!" Estel cried, backing away from his father's hands. "I will not be calmed. I will not hear again that I cannot know. If you want me to be civil to the prince, if you want me to act as if he doesn't hate me, then I should at least be allowed the courtesy of knowing why he does."
Elrond sighed. "I cannot tell you."
"Then do not expect anything from me in the future where it concerns him." Elrond watched sadly as the young human stalked away.
'Ah, Ilithien.' He sighed to himself as the boy sat down beside his brothers. 'The two men you love most are falling to bits at my feet and I can do nothing for them. What am I to do?'
*
~
Lindelen stepped out of the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Tears brightened his royal blue eyes. "He will see no one." He whispered, the pain lacing his voice like a mourner's veil. "It is as if he cannot sense me, or anyone. He fears every touch, every voice. He cries out in his sleep, begging for them to stop hurting him. My brother has never begged for anything in his life."
"Perhaps he needs…" King Thranduil's tentative words faded away as Ilithien, the youngest of the elves present and by far the least experienced, stepped from the back of the group of anxious elves and grasped the handle of the bedroom door.
"Ilithien, do not-" Elrond started, but she gently held up a hand, her eyes imploring his silence. The king had requested the great healer's help the moment he learned of what condition his son had been found in, and Ilithien had come with him, not surprising to anyone. But for all his knowledge the elf lord could do nothing for the torment in the prince's soul.
"I know what I am doing." She said softly, confidently. "Trust me."
She entered the room silently, leaving the door slightly ajar so that those outside could see, but clearly stating they were to stay out. She walked over to the bed that the injured prince lay on and sat down beside him. Those left in the hallway cringed when he whimpered and pulled away from her in his sleep.
This had happened innumerable times since the young prince had been brought back to his home. Many had tried to comfort him, pulling him into their arms and whispering soothing words into his ear as they rocked him or held him close. But it had done nothing but cause the prince to panic, to fight them.
Ilithien did none of these things. She did not even move to touch him when he pulled away. She simply sat in silence, staring down at the frightened prince. After a moment the elves in the hallway heard a soft voice float out from the room.
She was singing.
Her voice was soft, barely discernable even to the elves sharp ears, and melodic as all elven voices are. But there was nothing extraordinary about her voice, nothing to set her apart from any other. The prince himself could capture entire courts in rapture as he sang, his voice stirring their very souls with songs of love or valor.
But now they listened in awe as this elf maiden, barely more than a child in their eyes, sang a gentle song, a babe's lullaby, to their prince; and watched, amazed, as the features on his distressed face relaxed and his body sank gradually into the mattress, peacefully asleep for the first time since he had been returned home.
Ilithien stayed by his side until the song had finished, then silently stood and left the room, closing the door behind her. The other elves, all far older and more experienced than she, and none able to calm the prince as she had, stared in awe.
"How…" Lindelen trailed off, at a loss for words.
"Your mother used to sing that song to him when he was a child." She stated softly. "He told me so, many years ago."
"But how did you know it would work?" Elrond asked, completely entranced by this young maid.
"His mind is not in a place right now that he understands the things you say to him. Your words of safety and peace fall deafly, as if you had not even said them for his mind will not let them comprehend. I believe he is inadvertently trying to protect himself by blocking out all that is around him. The song appealed to his subconscious. His mother is long lost, yet he still finds comfort in her, deep inside himself. And for now, that is the only place you may be able to reach him. Far away from this world and the things in it."
She shrugged, then walked away to leave them to their thoughts.
"That child," Elrond said, once she was out of earshot. "Is a miracle."
~
Lindelen stopped pacing and cast another look at the dark trees. It was almost night, the sun nothing but a fiery sliver in the west, tiny stars starting to twinkle in the opposite horizon. It did not matter to the elves if it grew dark, but the eldest prince of Mirkwood was now very worried for his brother. He sent one more look towards the other elves then, grabbing his bow from it's place at his back, started towards the shadowy woods.
But he had no need, for at that moment a dark figure stepped out from their dark branches, a determined look set on his blood smeared face.
The youngest prince strode across the field into the midsts of the dead bodies, his dark eyes searching for something amongst the carcasses, many of which he had created. In moments he spotted it, grabbing the blood covered knife from the ground, pulling it from the chest of an orc, then he straightened and continued on, past the bodies, past the pile of flesh the others had created and on towards the mountains.
*
Elladan, his eyes half closed against the intense pain in his side, saw the Mirkwood prince as he emerged from the woods. The look in his empty eyes sent chills down the twin's spine. He squeezed his twin's leg, gaining the younger elf's attention, and pointed at the retreating form.
"Nor-an ho." He said, in too much pain to bother with any language but his own. Elrohir started to protest, but Elladan fixed his eyes with a glare that reminded the younger twin very much of his father. "Elrohir, e baurna le im." Elladan hissed, a wave of fire coursing up his side. ("Go to him.") ("…, he needs you [more than] I.")
Elrohir looked down into his twin's identical eyes; a pain that mirrored his own, though for a different purpose, looked back at him. His brother needed him, Elrohir knew. Needed his strength while his was gone. But the younger twin also knew that his brother would live, and their friend was still in great danger of this. With regret and acceptance Elrohir nodded and quickly stood, though it tore his heart to leave his brother's side. As always a part of him stayed with his twin as he made to go after the prince.
Elrohir's abandoned place at Elladan's side was promptly replaced by Estel; the young human glared at the retreating back of the prince as his brother followed after him.
*
Avarilas watched Legolas as he emerged from the forest, watched as he reclaimed his knife from the orc's body and as he started his purposeful stride across the blood soaked field. But he did not follow him. He could not. He had failed his prince, again.
From birth Avarilas had been trained to protect the prince, placed in his service at the young age of 150 years, he had been with him for all the long centuries since. And now he had failed him a second time. No, he could not face his prince.
*
Lindelen quickly ran after his brother.
"Daro sen, muindor." He beseeched Legolas in their own tongue, grabbing the younger elf's shoulder and halting his resolute progress across the field, his own exhaustion pushed aside once again. ("Stop this, brother.")
Legolas pulled out of his grasp and continued towards the dark mountains; threatening piles of stone, their tops blood red from the setting sun. "The orcs of this band are dead." He said, his voice harsh, cruel; a far cry from the beauty of that which his brother had last heard in their home. "The trees told me that none escaped."
"If they are dead then where do you go?" Lindelen asked, once again reaching for his brother. But this time Legolas spun away from his hands, his pace quickening.
"I go to their lair in the mountains." He said, his words as cold as ice.
"Legolas, stop this. It is folly, you cannot kill them all!" Lindelen cried, following his brother closely.
"Watch me." Legolas hissed.
"Legolas, look at yourself!" Lindelen exclaimed, gesturing at his brother's body.
The prince looked, lightly speaking, horrifying.
His once royal clothes were soaked through in blood, the disgusting black of the orcs and crimson red of his own. They were torn in innumerous places, barely holding on to the prince's lean body as he walked on. Blood, dirt, and twigs from the forest coated his formerly shining hair in a grotesque mask. The same covered the skin of his face; it's once sharp angles and royal frame now hidden beneath layers of filth.
And that which went beyond his physical appearance was somehow more frightening. His eyes burned with hatred, their deep blue depths drowning the older prince in their flames of rage. His breath came out in ragged, icy gasps, racing past his blood stained lips in frosty puffs. And his hands, once the steady, skilled hands of a legendary archer, now shook uncontrollably, gripping his bloodied knives as if they were a lifeline.
The sight of his once proud, regal brother, now broken and scattered into a wind that tore the pieces away like fallen leaves, horrified the heir of Mirkwood. Lindelen could nearly forget that this creature before him was his brother, so changed he had become in the past weeks.
Legolas just kept walking, ignoring his brother's desperate words.
Another voice called out from behind them as a new elf joined their pace on the plain. "Legolas, daro!" Elrohir demanded. ("… ,stop!")
For this Legolas stopped, and Lindelen sighed in relief; until he saw the dangerous fire in his brother's eyes. Legolas spun around to face the Noldor elf, his blood-matted hair whipping him in the face. His stained lips curled back in a sneer and a growl escaped his throat.
"Do not speak to me." He hissed at Elrohir; the rage in his eyes stopped the elf in his tracks. "This is your fault." He spat, a wave of grief crossing his eyes, quickly replaced with hatred. "It is your fault Ilithien is dead. You were supposed to protect her! You should have protected her! But you couldn't. Once again you and your pathetic brother were too weak. You abandoned her, just like your mother. She died because you could not help her!"
Elrohir, despite the cruelty of the remarks, forced them to fall away from him. He knew his friend; he knew he did not mean what he said. "Legolas, you can't-"
Legolas growled again and spun back around, ignoring Elrohir's words, returning to his march towards the mountains. But Elrohir would not give up that easily. He reached out a hand, grabbing the prince's shoulder, trying to restrain him. Legolas spun around once more, bringing his clenched fist up into the spin. And, using the force of his body, he struck Elrohir with the double force of his fist and the back of his knife.
The Noldor, propelled by the force of the blow, reeled away from the prince, landing with a thud in an ungraceful heap on the ground. An angry cry rang out from the forest's edge behind them. Legolas turned and started running for the mountains.
*
Estel had watched the exchange from his place with Elladan, unable to hear, but still able to see the long distance they had gone, even in the darkening light. Elladan as well had watched, and screamed in anger when the prince had struck his brother. He nearly screamed again in frustration when he remembered that he was in no condition to go after the elf that had dared to attack his twin.
Estel was though, and he went with a vengeance.
To Be Continued…
*gasp* What have I done? Poor Legolas, poor Elrohir, poor Elladan. But as you can see, I did not kill anyone off. I couldn't. Especially not one of the twins. I love them too much. Other than Legolas they are my favorite characters. And they get to little time in the books. *cries* Oh well. Tolkien will do as Tolkien will do. It is up to us fanfiction author's to manipulate his great works into the way we want them. *grins*
And just FYI, that's about all the info you're going to be getting on Legolas' reasoning behind his hatred for men in this story. But never fear because I already have plans for my next story which will give you the rest of the information. *grins*
So yes, my story is done, and I may start posting more often, say… twice a week instead? But, now I'm going to do what I HATE other author's do (I'll despise myself later) and say that I'll only update more often if I continue to receive, at the very least, the same amount of reviews per chapter as I have in the past. If I think that updating more often makes you guys lazy and not review *grins*, then I'll stop. K? So, I will post the next chapter, probably Wednesday of Thursday. I love you all! You encourage me to be a better writer.
Until next time…
Adrienne