Chapter Fifty-Nine: Demons Awake
A/N: I love this chapter. It's great. I hope everybody loves it too. Anyway, well, isn't it great that I'm finally updating! It's been, what, three weeks? OUCH! I'm so sorry you guys. Terrible writer's block, but that's just an excuse. All right. Oh yeah, and whoever has been bugging me about Aila having a second child … the light … well, in case you hadn't realized it, but when Findecano was born, and there was a bright light that engulfed them and was absorbed into their skin … THAT was the light. Make sense? Yeah, whatever. I thought that had been rather clear. Oh well. Enjoy.
…
Aila smiled at her son, he was still young, but in his mind she perceived the Light. His very halls were shining with the most piercing of light, pure and clean of all tormenting thoughts, as hers was blackened with.
"I am all right again," she responded, confirming. "I, however, am not what you should be worried about, but rather you should be worried about the dirt around the castle. Is the foundation fortified with stone and mortar, or is it simply dirt?"
"Why, the castle has a stone foundation, of course," replied Thranduil, as if the notion were ridiculous.
"Everywhere?" she asked and Thranduil nodded in response. Aila leaned back in her chair and heaved a huge sigh. Findecano and Legolas had returned to their seats, but were still staring apprehensively at her. "Good. Then you have nothing to worry about. You see, King Glorinul was planning to dig underneath the castle walls and raid us, when we were unaware."
"That is ridiculous," replied another noble. "They are not moles. Any underground fortification dug by men will fail without the proper supports."
"They have engineers with them. Those engineers have many plans. Already they are cutting down trees of Mirkwood to support such an underground structure, which is to house five soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, and an infinite number long as they crowd into the elven castle, where few men have been, save myself." The nobles were indeed sobered, but they were comforted by the stone that lay beneath their feet. Suddenly, Legolas sat upright and stared, wide-eyed at them all.
"I know well the structure of Mirkwood, and there is one place which is not surrounded by stone around, above, and under. One place within these walls that the men may know of." Quickly, he stood up, making towards the door. "Gather all of the elven warriors and have them meet me in the wine-cellars! It must be fortified with warriors! We will slaughter them as they come up, five by five, and kill each quickly and precisely. Boil water and oil for pouring into the hole, and find a long stone with which we may cover their man-hole with."
Quickly, he swept from the room, Findecano trailing him, bow and arrows upon the backs of both princes. King Thranduil simply sat, staring at his nobles silently.
"Well?" he asked. "What are you waiting for? An order from my son is an order from me." Grunting affirmation, the nobles and warriors stood, champions all, and exited the room quickly. Some followed after Legolas and his son, others left to the elven barracks, other yet went to more nobles. All had many duties now.
…
Glorinul was pacing his tent quickly, his hands clasped behind his back. He had entirely lost control of her mind, and his teeth were grinding, the caps of his molars reduced to mere powder. Officers came in and out, reporting, saluting, but it meant little to him. The tunnel could not, would not, work if she alerted them of his plans. He could not take back her mind, however. Once already he had tried that. Whatever that wraith was, the one that had killed so many of his wraiths with a fiery sword, whoever that wraith had represented, he never wanted to encounter it again, or that side of Aila. If she became like that wraith in the physical world, his men would run with their tails between their legs.
The tunnel was coming along, however, and the engineers were quickly tapping their way along the roof of the long, narrow cavern to find where stone did not lie. Within a few days, they were there, and Glorinul was immensely relieved. He need not worry about captivating her mind anymore. Himself, he was surprised at the speed of his engineers and workers, but he also knew that his engineers were the best in the land, and none better could be found unless you traveled all the way to Gondor.
His head engineer came into the room, and being a civilian, did not salute him, but Glorinul was still his king.
"Your Highness," he began, his voice deep and gravelly, like any true engineer. "We have located the wine cellars. The tunnel is ready for the deployment of 200 troops at one time."
"Why only 200, engineer? Why not more?" The engineer shook his head.
"That many feet, so much vibration …" he trailed for a moment, and shook his head once more in distress. He could hardly fathom it. "The supports would give way and you would find yourself with dead bodies on your hands before we even headed into battle. Of course, the soldiers would be lost, but the tunnel as well. The vibrations and caving in of the tunnel would alert the elves, and your plan would be for nothing. They would only be more infuriated than they are now. I have seen their bows and none have longer distance than their long bows. Also, I have heard that their engineers are good as well, and can design long-shot bows, which can easily reach out campsite."
"I already know this."
"Then you realize we must draw back our camp?"
"No," responded Glorinul, sneering. "If we draw back any further, it would not be a siege. It would be a picnic in the forest. We are not here to picnic."
"We are here to kill," grunted the engineer in response. Glorinul smiled at the well-known phrase.
"We are here to kill elves."
…
Aila's eyes fled down the brittle pages of the old book placed before her. Galadriel was pacing about the room before her, her long, wavy hair ticking her waist as she strode ceaselessly, awaiting Aila's eyes to partake the words on the page.
But ever as Aila tried, her eyes did not see the words on the pages. Could not see the words on the pages. The brittle pages were old, the ink worn beyond any recollection.
"I cannot," said Aila. Galadriel turned to her, frowning, ceasing her never-ending strut across the hard stone floor. The ornate tiles were chill under her feet. "I am sorry, I cannot."
"You can," replied Galadriel, her surreal blue eyes gazed piercingly into Aila's until the immortal human was forced to look away, back to the pages. "The book will be read by who it wants to be read by. It has a mind of its own." Again, Aila knew Galadriel was speaking in riddles. She fingered Greenleaf, which was still on her finger. In riddles Galadriel has spoken, millennia ago, when she had placed the ring upon her left ring finger, signifying marriage. Marriage to Greenleaf. Marriage to Legolas Greenleaf. Before she even realized her love, but should have.
How much easier would their trip had been, if they had had each other? And still, they had had each other, on levels far lower than they should have. Purely platonic friends, it seemed, save for the elf's burning passion, which he hid so well, and Aila's own denial. "A mind of its own." The words echoed in Aila's mind, and she sat thinking. A mind of its own. A mind she could tap into … a mind she could explore … a mind she could read.
She focused her eyes upon the first brittle page of the book, but they glazed over, and soon she was launched into a world so different from her own.
The book's mind was not elaborate, nor was it anywhere near the labyrinth caverns of her own. It was one large room. A huge library, a circle of bookcases, lined and stuffed with books. There was also a whispering. A whispering far off, and it resonated in the back of her own mind, and she heard it, she pondered upon it, but of it she found no meaning.
"The son may rest.
In stone.
In peace.
To ever save the elven race.
His light hath never shone."
It was like some strange sort of diffusion. She felt, in the physical world, her mind explode with pain, her wraiths in a frenzy as they hurried to make up for time lost, and they hauled information from this room into the very bowels of her brain until even the hallways were lined with books and entire rooms were filled. A migraine raged and Galadriel watched, nonplussed and wondered little. In her soft, elven heart, she knew what was happening.
Far off, Aila was aware of Legolas in the wine cellars, darting about like a blood-hound, searching for the scent of the men, waiting for the kill. She was aware of Findecano, far off in the corner, watching his father fervently, but there was no expression on his face, no will to fight the men, no will for much except observing. In his mind she was aware of a taint, but then it was gone and the light within his mind flickered, but shone strongly, if not as strong as before.
Suddenly, she felt her wraiths and herself catapulted, and she landed in the physical world upon her back, her chair lying prone next to her where she had fallen backwards.
"Are you aware now, little one?"
"Uma," she responded in elfish, acknowledging the affirmative and signaling her strange experience. She was not in any condition to relate it to the elven queen, but Galadriel knew. Aila had come into her powers, if she had no need to use them as of yet.
"You are not yourself?" Galadriel asked, but it was not really a question.
"I was never myself," Aila responded, flexing her fingers as if they were new to her. There was a strange new glint in her eyes. "I am myself now." For a moment, Galadriel was afraid, wondering exactly what ancient spirit she had awoken in Aila by having her enter the mind of the ancient book, but she knew that if the elves were to defeat the men, this spirit must have Aila's body, her powers through the scripture.
"Good," she replied.
"It is more than good," responded the spirit, speaking through Aila's voice, gazing in wonder in a mirror that was placed on the wall. Looking at the body, remembering the information that was given to Aila through the book, the spirit given to her body. Little did Galadriel know of this spirit, or she would not have allowed Aila to enter the book.
Little did she know. It was worse than good.
…
Aila walked down the musty steps into the wine cellar, dodging between the bustling warriors, who through her half-salutes and verbal greetings. She responded pleasantly, until she reached the dusty floor, her footsteps bringing up the soil that others had brought there, as she walked through the labyrinth of columns of aging wine bottles, kegs, and barrels of grapes, waiting to be crushed. Her eyes darted everywhere, looking for two familiar faces, which the spirit would recognize through Aila's memories.
Legolas was far off when she spotted him, speaking with some elf-engineers, pointing to various points across the dusty floor. Aila did her best to pull the spirit away from Legolas, and her eyes fell upon Findecano, who was watching in a dark corner, his nose sniffing and his eyes alert to all that was going on.
"Findecano," she said. Coming towards him, he looked up at her and smiled.
"Mother," the young prince said. The spirit within Aila was reveling in him. This young elf looked so healthy, so strong, his mind was pure and untainted like Aila's, so much easier to control, to possess.
"Findecano," she said again, trying hard to keep herself away from him. She knew what the spirit within her was trying to do, by pushing her feet closer to her son. "Findecano," she gasped out, fighting the spirit, willing her feet to walk back, but she continued advancing. "Run, run from me, Findecano."
"What is it, Mother? What is wrong?" He took a step to her, and she stopped. He grasped her forearm. Aila could hear laughing in her mind, before it faded and was gone. She looked at Findecano. His eyes widened and a noise issued from his throat, a half a gasp, half a sound a wounded animal would make as it died. He was being possessed.
She brought her hands up and gripped his shoulders tightly, as his grip on her forearm faltered and broke. His bright blue eyes clouded over and darkened, so that they were the deepest azure blue Aila had ever looked upon, darker than the sea.
"Findecano …" she said. "Findecano, my son!"
"Now this," grinned Findecano, "is even better than before. Such strength!" He pried Aila's hands from him, though she tried desperately to restrain him, and he walked over to his father to listen to the conversation that passed between them. Aila could do nothing.
…
Findecano joined the small group of elven engineers and his father, listening intently on the conversation. The spirit within him knew little of what was going on, but after searching the boy's brain, he easily found his needed information.
"They could come up anywhere in the wine cellar," said one of the engineers. Legolas' face set with determination. At his back, several steps behind him, were many warriors and soldiers of the Mirkwood army, as well as many Lothlorien and Ithilien warriors. Another of the engineers, the head-engineer, the most trusted of the lot, shook his head.
"No. We have studied the vibrations of the floor," he produced a small instrument, strange and foreign to Legolas, but he trusted the engineers. The head-engineer placed it upon the floor. The water set within the seemingly simple glass vial started to vibrate violently. The engineer pushed it across the floor upon its wheels. The shaking increased, then lessened, and increased as he pushed it back to the spot.
"They are still tunneling," he continued. "We can track them with this. Otherwise, the only way to tell if they are coming up is with our eyes. Are there ruptures in the dust? A dust cloud above it, to signify them digging upwards? Is the vibrating of the vial consistent and stay in one spot? These are the questions we must ask ourselves as we wait. They could come up any minute."
Legolas extended his hand and shook hands with the head-engineer.
"Engineers are useless to us now," he responded, "though you have done your jobs well, and I thank you for that. But you are not warriors, and I would not risk your lives needlessly. Stay near to this cellar. I will send word up when we need you here again, if need be. Please, go back to the sunshine and await a message." The engineers nodded their heads, beginning to leave, but Legolas restrained them for one moment more. "And tell them to bring down the oil and water … large cauldrons of it." Turning from the engineers, Legolas turned to the warriors. "Keep on your guard. Watch the floor for anything suspicious. Keep your weapons at ready and alert me if you spot anything strange."
Legolas turned, finally, to Findecano and gave his son a half-hearted grin. "I want you to go back to my father, Findecano."
"Why, Father?" Findecano asked.
"Because, Findecano …" Legolas could not think of any other way to put it: "Your skills as a warrior are lacking. I would not risk your life needlessly." Findecano felt rage within him and the spirit realized it was not just his own.
"You would not risk the engineers' lives needlessly either. I suppose I am simply an engineer to you, a soft-hearted, tender-handed brain." Findecano scoffed at his father, and Legolas was surprised. Aila had already shrunk away back into the castle, in search of Galadriel to find out what she had let loose. Legolas shook his head.
"You know it is not like that, my son. You are important to the elves."
"You've said that before, haven't you? Haven't you, Father? I've heard the stories. You fell in love with my mother because she was important to the elves, as the Light Bearer. Did you only love her for that?" Legolas flared with anger.
"How dare you accuse me of that, as your own father?! Leave at once. I will not have you down here!" Findecano was about to open his mouth in response when another voice came calling his father.
"Prince Legolas, quickly, there are vibrations … they are tunneling upward!"
"Findecano," Legolas said, his jaw set, his eyes icy. "Findecano, you must leave."
"Yes, Father," Findecano responded all too coldly.
"Prince Legolas!" Behind him, within those few moments, Legolas could hear sizzling oil and boiling water being hauled in large cauldrons down the cellar stairs, blocking the exit from his warriors. But he wanted no exit. There was no need for a retreat. This was his home, and he wasn't about to leave it to the men, nor his people.
He spun around only to see human heads popping from the ground. The attack had begun, and Legolas grinned a little before jumping into the fray himself, whipping out his short elven blades, ready to wreak havoc on the aggressors. This would be a great day in elven history, and a terrible story for the men.
…
A/N: Finally, eh? Yeah, I know. It's been a while, hasn't it. Whoever told me that Findecano was acting like a jerk in the last chapter … (hadn't realized that he actually was) gave me the greatest idea for the rest of my plot. SO THANKS! It's thanks to whoever that was that I updated! Finally! So everybody should thank them! I had a great revelation to that in my English class on Friday, while I was reading the Silmarillion! All Hail!
A/N: I love this chapter. It's great. I hope everybody loves it too. Anyway, well, isn't it great that I'm finally updating! It's been, what, three weeks? OUCH! I'm so sorry you guys. Terrible writer's block, but that's just an excuse. All right. Oh yeah, and whoever has been bugging me about Aila having a second child … the light … well, in case you hadn't realized it, but when Findecano was born, and there was a bright light that engulfed them and was absorbed into their skin … THAT was the light. Make sense? Yeah, whatever. I thought that had been rather clear. Oh well. Enjoy.
…
Aila smiled at her son, he was still young, but in his mind she perceived the Light. His very halls were shining with the most piercing of light, pure and clean of all tormenting thoughts, as hers was blackened with.
"I am all right again," she responded, confirming. "I, however, am not what you should be worried about, but rather you should be worried about the dirt around the castle. Is the foundation fortified with stone and mortar, or is it simply dirt?"
"Why, the castle has a stone foundation, of course," replied Thranduil, as if the notion were ridiculous.
"Everywhere?" she asked and Thranduil nodded in response. Aila leaned back in her chair and heaved a huge sigh. Findecano and Legolas had returned to their seats, but were still staring apprehensively at her. "Good. Then you have nothing to worry about. You see, King Glorinul was planning to dig underneath the castle walls and raid us, when we were unaware."
"That is ridiculous," replied another noble. "They are not moles. Any underground fortification dug by men will fail without the proper supports."
"They have engineers with them. Those engineers have many plans. Already they are cutting down trees of Mirkwood to support such an underground structure, which is to house five soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, and an infinite number long as they crowd into the elven castle, where few men have been, save myself." The nobles were indeed sobered, but they were comforted by the stone that lay beneath their feet. Suddenly, Legolas sat upright and stared, wide-eyed at them all.
"I know well the structure of Mirkwood, and there is one place which is not surrounded by stone around, above, and under. One place within these walls that the men may know of." Quickly, he stood up, making towards the door. "Gather all of the elven warriors and have them meet me in the wine-cellars! It must be fortified with warriors! We will slaughter them as they come up, five by five, and kill each quickly and precisely. Boil water and oil for pouring into the hole, and find a long stone with which we may cover their man-hole with."
Quickly, he swept from the room, Findecano trailing him, bow and arrows upon the backs of both princes. King Thranduil simply sat, staring at his nobles silently.
"Well?" he asked. "What are you waiting for? An order from my son is an order from me." Grunting affirmation, the nobles and warriors stood, champions all, and exited the room quickly. Some followed after Legolas and his son, others left to the elven barracks, other yet went to more nobles. All had many duties now.
…
Glorinul was pacing his tent quickly, his hands clasped behind his back. He had entirely lost control of her mind, and his teeth were grinding, the caps of his molars reduced to mere powder. Officers came in and out, reporting, saluting, but it meant little to him. The tunnel could not, would not, work if she alerted them of his plans. He could not take back her mind, however. Once already he had tried that. Whatever that wraith was, the one that had killed so many of his wraiths with a fiery sword, whoever that wraith had represented, he never wanted to encounter it again, or that side of Aila. If she became like that wraith in the physical world, his men would run with their tails between their legs.
The tunnel was coming along, however, and the engineers were quickly tapping their way along the roof of the long, narrow cavern to find where stone did not lie. Within a few days, they were there, and Glorinul was immensely relieved. He need not worry about captivating her mind anymore. Himself, he was surprised at the speed of his engineers and workers, but he also knew that his engineers were the best in the land, and none better could be found unless you traveled all the way to Gondor.
His head engineer came into the room, and being a civilian, did not salute him, but Glorinul was still his king.
"Your Highness," he began, his voice deep and gravelly, like any true engineer. "We have located the wine cellars. The tunnel is ready for the deployment of 200 troops at one time."
"Why only 200, engineer? Why not more?" The engineer shook his head.
"That many feet, so much vibration …" he trailed for a moment, and shook his head once more in distress. He could hardly fathom it. "The supports would give way and you would find yourself with dead bodies on your hands before we even headed into battle. Of course, the soldiers would be lost, but the tunnel as well. The vibrations and caving in of the tunnel would alert the elves, and your plan would be for nothing. They would only be more infuriated than they are now. I have seen their bows and none have longer distance than their long bows. Also, I have heard that their engineers are good as well, and can design long-shot bows, which can easily reach out campsite."
"I already know this."
"Then you realize we must draw back our camp?"
"No," responded Glorinul, sneering. "If we draw back any further, it would not be a siege. It would be a picnic in the forest. We are not here to picnic."
"We are here to kill," grunted the engineer in response. Glorinul smiled at the well-known phrase.
"We are here to kill elves."
…
Aila's eyes fled down the brittle pages of the old book placed before her. Galadriel was pacing about the room before her, her long, wavy hair ticking her waist as she strode ceaselessly, awaiting Aila's eyes to partake the words on the page.
But ever as Aila tried, her eyes did not see the words on the pages. Could not see the words on the pages. The brittle pages were old, the ink worn beyond any recollection.
"I cannot," said Aila. Galadriel turned to her, frowning, ceasing her never-ending strut across the hard stone floor. The ornate tiles were chill under her feet. "I am sorry, I cannot."
"You can," replied Galadriel, her surreal blue eyes gazed piercingly into Aila's until the immortal human was forced to look away, back to the pages. "The book will be read by who it wants to be read by. It has a mind of its own." Again, Aila knew Galadriel was speaking in riddles. She fingered Greenleaf, which was still on her finger. In riddles Galadriel has spoken, millennia ago, when she had placed the ring upon her left ring finger, signifying marriage. Marriage to Greenleaf. Marriage to Legolas Greenleaf. Before she even realized her love, but should have.
How much easier would their trip had been, if they had had each other? And still, they had had each other, on levels far lower than they should have. Purely platonic friends, it seemed, save for the elf's burning passion, which he hid so well, and Aila's own denial. "A mind of its own." The words echoed in Aila's mind, and she sat thinking. A mind of its own. A mind she could tap into … a mind she could explore … a mind she could read.
She focused her eyes upon the first brittle page of the book, but they glazed over, and soon she was launched into a world so different from her own.
The book's mind was not elaborate, nor was it anywhere near the labyrinth caverns of her own. It was one large room. A huge library, a circle of bookcases, lined and stuffed with books. There was also a whispering. A whispering far off, and it resonated in the back of her own mind, and she heard it, she pondered upon it, but of it she found no meaning.
"The son may rest.
In stone.
In peace.
To ever save the elven race.
His light hath never shone."
It was like some strange sort of diffusion. She felt, in the physical world, her mind explode with pain, her wraiths in a frenzy as they hurried to make up for time lost, and they hauled information from this room into the very bowels of her brain until even the hallways were lined with books and entire rooms were filled. A migraine raged and Galadriel watched, nonplussed and wondered little. In her soft, elven heart, she knew what was happening.
Far off, Aila was aware of Legolas in the wine cellars, darting about like a blood-hound, searching for the scent of the men, waiting for the kill. She was aware of Findecano, far off in the corner, watching his father fervently, but there was no expression on his face, no will to fight the men, no will for much except observing. In his mind she was aware of a taint, but then it was gone and the light within his mind flickered, but shone strongly, if not as strong as before.
Suddenly, she felt her wraiths and herself catapulted, and she landed in the physical world upon her back, her chair lying prone next to her where she had fallen backwards.
"Are you aware now, little one?"
"Uma," she responded in elfish, acknowledging the affirmative and signaling her strange experience. She was not in any condition to relate it to the elven queen, but Galadriel knew. Aila had come into her powers, if she had no need to use them as of yet.
"You are not yourself?" Galadriel asked, but it was not really a question.
"I was never myself," Aila responded, flexing her fingers as if they were new to her. There was a strange new glint in her eyes. "I am myself now." For a moment, Galadriel was afraid, wondering exactly what ancient spirit she had awoken in Aila by having her enter the mind of the ancient book, but she knew that if the elves were to defeat the men, this spirit must have Aila's body, her powers through the scripture.
"Good," she replied.
"It is more than good," responded the spirit, speaking through Aila's voice, gazing in wonder in a mirror that was placed on the wall. Looking at the body, remembering the information that was given to Aila through the book, the spirit given to her body. Little did Galadriel know of this spirit, or she would not have allowed Aila to enter the book.
Little did she know. It was worse than good.
…
Aila walked down the musty steps into the wine cellar, dodging between the bustling warriors, who through her half-salutes and verbal greetings. She responded pleasantly, until she reached the dusty floor, her footsteps bringing up the soil that others had brought there, as she walked through the labyrinth of columns of aging wine bottles, kegs, and barrels of grapes, waiting to be crushed. Her eyes darted everywhere, looking for two familiar faces, which the spirit would recognize through Aila's memories.
Legolas was far off when she spotted him, speaking with some elf-engineers, pointing to various points across the dusty floor. Aila did her best to pull the spirit away from Legolas, and her eyes fell upon Findecano, who was watching in a dark corner, his nose sniffing and his eyes alert to all that was going on.
"Findecano," she said. Coming towards him, he looked up at her and smiled.
"Mother," the young prince said. The spirit within Aila was reveling in him. This young elf looked so healthy, so strong, his mind was pure and untainted like Aila's, so much easier to control, to possess.
"Findecano," she said again, trying hard to keep herself away from him. She knew what the spirit within her was trying to do, by pushing her feet closer to her son. "Findecano," she gasped out, fighting the spirit, willing her feet to walk back, but she continued advancing. "Run, run from me, Findecano."
"What is it, Mother? What is wrong?" He took a step to her, and she stopped. He grasped her forearm. Aila could hear laughing in her mind, before it faded and was gone. She looked at Findecano. His eyes widened and a noise issued from his throat, a half a gasp, half a sound a wounded animal would make as it died. He was being possessed.
She brought her hands up and gripped his shoulders tightly, as his grip on her forearm faltered and broke. His bright blue eyes clouded over and darkened, so that they were the deepest azure blue Aila had ever looked upon, darker than the sea.
"Findecano …" she said. "Findecano, my son!"
"Now this," grinned Findecano, "is even better than before. Such strength!" He pried Aila's hands from him, though she tried desperately to restrain him, and he walked over to his father to listen to the conversation that passed between them. Aila could do nothing.
…
Findecano joined the small group of elven engineers and his father, listening intently on the conversation. The spirit within him knew little of what was going on, but after searching the boy's brain, he easily found his needed information.
"They could come up anywhere in the wine cellar," said one of the engineers. Legolas' face set with determination. At his back, several steps behind him, were many warriors and soldiers of the Mirkwood army, as well as many Lothlorien and Ithilien warriors. Another of the engineers, the head-engineer, the most trusted of the lot, shook his head.
"No. We have studied the vibrations of the floor," he produced a small instrument, strange and foreign to Legolas, but he trusted the engineers. The head-engineer placed it upon the floor. The water set within the seemingly simple glass vial started to vibrate violently. The engineer pushed it across the floor upon its wheels. The shaking increased, then lessened, and increased as he pushed it back to the spot.
"They are still tunneling," he continued. "We can track them with this. Otherwise, the only way to tell if they are coming up is with our eyes. Are there ruptures in the dust? A dust cloud above it, to signify them digging upwards? Is the vibrating of the vial consistent and stay in one spot? These are the questions we must ask ourselves as we wait. They could come up any minute."
Legolas extended his hand and shook hands with the head-engineer.
"Engineers are useless to us now," he responded, "though you have done your jobs well, and I thank you for that. But you are not warriors, and I would not risk your lives needlessly. Stay near to this cellar. I will send word up when we need you here again, if need be. Please, go back to the sunshine and await a message." The engineers nodded their heads, beginning to leave, but Legolas restrained them for one moment more. "And tell them to bring down the oil and water … large cauldrons of it." Turning from the engineers, Legolas turned to the warriors. "Keep on your guard. Watch the floor for anything suspicious. Keep your weapons at ready and alert me if you spot anything strange."
Legolas turned, finally, to Findecano and gave his son a half-hearted grin. "I want you to go back to my father, Findecano."
"Why, Father?" Findecano asked.
"Because, Findecano …" Legolas could not think of any other way to put it: "Your skills as a warrior are lacking. I would not risk your life needlessly." Findecano felt rage within him and the spirit realized it was not just his own.
"You would not risk the engineers' lives needlessly either. I suppose I am simply an engineer to you, a soft-hearted, tender-handed brain." Findecano scoffed at his father, and Legolas was surprised. Aila had already shrunk away back into the castle, in search of Galadriel to find out what she had let loose. Legolas shook his head.
"You know it is not like that, my son. You are important to the elves."
"You've said that before, haven't you? Haven't you, Father? I've heard the stories. You fell in love with my mother because she was important to the elves, as the Light Bearer. Did you only love her for that?" Legolas flared with anger.
"How dare you accuse me of that, as your own father?! Leave at once. I will not have you down here!" Findecano was about to open his mouth in response when another voice came calling his father.
"Prince Legolas, quickly, there are vibrations … they are tunneling upward!"
"Findecano," Legolas said, his jaw set, his eyes icy. "Findecano, you must leave."
"Yes, Father," Findecano responded all too coldly.
"Prince Legolas!" Behind him, within those few moments, Legolas could hear sizzling oil and boiling water being hauled in large cauldrons down the cellar stairs, blocking the exit from his warriors. But he wanted no exit. There was no need for a retreat. This was his home, and he wasn't about to leave it to the men, nor his people.
He spun around only to see human heads popping from the ground. The attack had begun, and Legolas grinned a little before jumping into the fray himself, whipping out his short elven blades, ready to wreak havoc on the aggressors. This would be a great day in elven history, and a terrible story for the men.
…
A/N: Finally, eh? Yeah, I know. It's been a while, hasn't it. Whoever told me that Findecano was acting like a jerk in the last chapter … (hadn't realized that he actually was) gave me the greatest idea for the rest of my plot. SO THANKS! It's thanks to whoever that was that I updated! Finally! So everybody should thank them! I had a great revelation to that in my English class on Friday, while I was reading the Silmarillion! All Hail!