A Light in the Caves
Rating: PG
Summary: Elrohir must bear an upsetting message to Thranduil. In his desperation the King locks Elrohir in the dungeon in a last attempt for Elrond to listen to his pleas. Legolas fears for his father's sanity and knows he must to do something to keep his father from plunging them into war between both the orcs and the elves of Imladris.
A/N: Here is a brand new fic. I do hope you like and will take a moment to review.
Pre-LOTR, AU
Chapter One
A young Elf stood quietly on the front steps to the Last Homely House. His travels were long and taxing, but the message he bore was of great import so silently and patiently would he wait for its reply.
The majestic landscape of Imladris shone brightly upon its citizens. Elves took great pride in their lands, and Elrond was no exception. Gazing about the lands, this Elf of Mirkwood could see where the stories of this land's beauty began. Somehow he felt a small amount of pride for having been able to see this jewel for himself, for few wood-elves were able to leave their troubled home in these dangerous times.
His revere was interrupted when the Lord of these lands, Elrond himself, appeared in the gateway.
"This is troubling news." Elrond began. His dark features showed the upset his heart felt. Darkness was rising and elves across the lands were beginning to feel its call.
The messenger bowed his head in affirmation. Even he, a scout in the army of Mirkwood, knew hope must be running thin if he were here now, standing in front of this powerful elven Lord. For as different as the two elves appeared, one dark of features with hair as black as obsidian, the other was light with hair that shone as gold, so was their feelings on many matters. Truly, the strain between to two lands was becoming more and more pronounced with every trip Anor would take and every time the moon would pass through its cycles.
"What should I tell my King, My Lord?"
Elrond approached the messenger, in his hand was a scroll bound in red ribbon and fixed with a seal, "Bring him this with my compliments."
Nodding, the Mirkwood Elf knew what the scroll would say.
**********
Hunting was a pastime Elrohir enjoyed immensely and today was a bright and beautiful day and even though he had yet to catch anything, it was a wonderful excuse to be out in the open lands outside of his home of Imladris.
His twin brother, Elladan was reading in the library, as usual, but the call of the outdoors was too much for the younger twin.
His horse was running in a long stride and the feel of the wind and the light filled his soul as water fills an empty goblet. The peace of the morn was about to be shattered, for in the forest a startled yell pieced the bird's song.
There was no contemplation needed. The Son of Elrond spurred his horse towards the trouble and what he found was a terrible scene.
A long elf, from his clothes of green and brown he guessed to be Silvan, was fighting a group of Orcs. Elrohir could not help but wonder how it was that they had come so close to the peaceful lands of his father, but there was no time for such pondering now, he needed to act quickly or else death would come for the young elf.
Reaching for his hunting bow, Elrohir's precise aim quickly killed two orcs attempting to bring the Mirkwood Elf down off of his horse. Three more were around the horse and they quickly turned towards the new attacker. The Imladris Elf would not be in the least deterred, his aim once more proving to be the downfall of two more of the dark creatures. The one remaining Orc knew this battle was not to be won, and turned towards the original target of their attack, throwing his crude spear into the chest of the fair haired elf. A moment later, the Orc was dead with an arrow in his throat.
Elrohir watched in fear as the elf fell from his horse. Quickly dismounting, he ran to the ground where the stranger fell.
"They are dead, do not fear."
Glazed eyes looked up at him, "Please, sir," a cough brought up blood, "take this to my King, it is of the greatest importance." The young one produced a scroll from his belt, slightly stained with blood, "It is my duty."
Taking it from his shaking hand, Elrohir nodded, "It shall be done. Rest easy, your task will be completed."
The sound of horses disturbed the quiet moment and Elrohir was relieved to see a group of his comrades.
"There is no time to waste!" Elrohir shouted, "Take him to my father for there might yet be time. Inform him that I shall complete this Elf's mission and I will return soon."
The three Nordor elves were so shocked by the dead Orcs and wounded Elf before them, they only nodded as they attended to their charge. Elrohir mounted his horse and headed towards the great Forest of Mirkwood.
*******
Traveling through the woods was not pleasant and Elrohir rode quickly and did not stop for rest. Only pausing so his mount might have some rest was done when necessary and always in the daylight hours. Thankfully, his horse did not tire to the point of needing extended rest, but would certainly be entitled to a long break upon his arrival.
Worry seeped into Elrohir's soul at the idea of facing King Thranduil. He had no clue what the message said or even what it pertained to. All he had was a promise made and his word was stronger than mithril. He would succeed in his task though he was quite unsure of the outcome.
The King of Mirkwood was becoming more and more unpredictable. As evil descended upon his lands more and more forceful he became and more and more hostile even to those nations of alliance. The situation in Mirkwood was now so desperate that the elves lived in underground dwellings protected by the magic of their race. However, without a ring of power like his father possessed, it would only be a matter of time before they would be able to hold Sauron back any longer. The Dark Lord already knocked upon their southern borders, driving them the extreme northern sections of the forest.
After the long journey in the dark, the son of Elrond came upon the outer edges of the wood-elves land. He slowed, knowing guards were more than likely watching him from the trees above. This was confirmed when a blond figure appeared before him, bow drawn and arrow aimed for his heart.
"You are a dark haired Noldor Elf, please, state your business in this realm." This Elf donned the garb of a high captain of the army, obviously in charge of the protection of their people and commanding the many others that remained hidden.
Bowing respectfully, Elrohir made sure to form his words wisely, "A messenger of yours was harmed in a skirmish outside of my home, Imladris. I made a vow to see his task completed so I stand here with a message for King Thranduil from Elrond Half-Elven."
Silence followed.
"Is he dead?" The Captain asked.
"I do not know, he was in a grave condition, but was being taken to the healers."
Nodding, the gap between them was closed by the Captain's movements. "State your name."
"I will, but to your King." A gaze was exchanged, but the blond elf relented. "As you wish. I shall take you before our King, but you weapons may not go with you."
"I understand."
******
Thranduil's court was dark and not only from pure lack of sunlight. A feel of dread crept up into Elrohir's heart as he approached the far side of the hall where the King sat on a large throne.
"My Lord," The Captain began, "this Noldor Elf brings news from the land of Imladris."
The King from atop his power looking down upon the dark featured Elrohir, the only Elf with dark hair in all the court, in all these lands.
"Thank you, Captain. Return now to your post."
"Aye, My King."
Elrohir was shocked to see that the rest of the court emptied, leaving him and the King to speak, with the exception of one other who stood beside the King. His gaze, however, was not judging, but warmer. This Elf looked far younger than the King, though the resemblance was incredible. Elrohir knew that Thranduil had a son. He guessed this was him, for Elrohir had never visited these lands before and had never met the Mirkwood King or his kin. Elrond sometimes was over protective of his children. That was part of the reason Elrohir left post haste ensuring others to tell his father of his journey.
"You name, please."
"Elrohir, My Lord."
Nodding, recognition sparked in the King's eyes, "You are one of the twins of Elrond."
"I am."
Thranduil approached Elrohir. Upon closer inspection Elrohir could see a great weariness in the King and something more. Something he couldn't quite place.
"I understand you have a message for me."
Remembering his duty, Elrohir produced the bloodstained scroll. Thranduil was hesitant, but took it. "So much blood spilt," he could hear the King mumbling under his breath.
Turning his back to the impromptu messenger, the King read the words.
"Guards!" He shouted. Immediately a well-armed group of elves appeared. "Elrond, it seems, only wishes to respond to my words with contempt." He turned back towards Elrond's son, "The Lord of that land will take me seriously. Take his son to the dungeons, lock him there until his father sees fit to heed my warnings."
For the first time, the figure who stood stoically the entire time spoke, "Father, you can not do this, he only brings the words, he did not write them!"
"Silence, Legolas!" Thranduil once more locked gazes with Elrohir, "Lock him up."