Ah! SO many typing mistakes on CH. 9! The horror! I was rereading it, because my sister wanted to see and I found so many mistakes! *wails* But the chapter was successful! *grins* Anyway, I'm sorry if my updates are going really slow. ^___^ I'm writing about four stories right now, including this one. Some of you may remember 'Mornie Utulie' since I posted that up once. I had to take it down because I couldn't guarantee quick updates, but two new stories all start around the time the Fellowship decide to enter Moria, or such like that. I don't want to say too much about the plot. ^__^ It'll be a surprise!
Well Met Indeed
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Chapter 10 – Of Insomniac Kings and Insane Lords
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They say I am a forsaken soul
One doomed to misery
Damned to the pits of Hell
For killing only me…
-The Poetry of Elfling-
Peace had settled over Mirkwood now that the vicious attacks had stopped. The tranquility of the forest had returned and the songs of the world began again, but all was not well for the King of Mirkwood and the Lord of Imladris. Insomnia had become a problem, yes, and so had insanity. It had been daily rituals for Thranduil to see the Badingor lurking on his balcony in the mid of night.
Though the creature never spoke of itself, it whispered words of Thranduil's past, spoke of warnings that made no sense, and speaking to both Elrond and Gandalf had not helped the king. He sat awake this night, as he always did, eyes wary and alert, though dark shadows hung below them.
The balcony was open and a soothing wind echoed in, but went unnoticed by the king. Letting out a sigh, Thranduil closed his eyes and sat on his bed, looking like anything but the king he was. "I wish to sleep tonight, Badingor, if you should not come out to me," he muttered. When no answer came, he leaned against the headboard of the bed, letting out another exhausted sigh. His eyelids drooped, and his eyes became blank, as all Elves did when sleeping, and the King of Mirkwood had his first fitful sleep in weeks.
Meanwhile, down the hall, Elrond of Rivendell had woken abruptly. He sat up, without a trace of sleep or exhaustion. He was dazed for a moment, and suddenly, an icy blast shot throughout him. With a soundless gasp, Elrond blinked and found himself staring at a long, slender figure sitting at the small table in Elrond's room.
His long legs were crossed and he sat, comfortably and gracefully, as if he had posed there for a reason. The Imladris Lord did not move, nor did he speak, but he did not need to, for the figure before him was standing in one fluid motion. His legs unfolded and he stood, black cape swinging about his black boots. The figure had the whitest skin Elrond had ever seen and everything he wore, even his hair, was the darkest black. He rose to his full height, which was fairly impressive and a well build.
With a catlike smile, the man before Elrond said: "Well, Elrond of Rivendell, allow me to introduce myself." But the Elf did not need an introduction, for Thranduil was correct: An icy sense of dread had filled the Lord's soul and he knew at once who it was. "Badingor," he hissed unpleasantly. If the creature was disturbed, he certainly did not let on, for his beautiful face was unfazed.
With a bored smile, the Badingor said politely, "I would rather not have you call me that, Elf. I have grown fond of the name Resulon, so if you will call me that, I would be more than happy to continue." Elrond stared at him, rather than glare, in shock. How dare he? Elrond thought, profoundly distressed. To take up the name of Thranduil's deceased son as if it were nothing!
Then calmly and coolly, the Lord replied, "Nay, you deserve neither the pleasure of having a name, nor being called the name of the second-born prince of Mirkwood." Something flashed in the Badingor's yellow eyes, and in the silver moonlight, they seemed oddly violet. Seeing Elrond studying his eyes, the Badingor explained, the gentleman act never leaving him, "Ah, it seems you have noticed my eyes. They change, my dear Elf. I can change…"
Elrond's eyes widened and he said nothing. The Badingor pressed on, "Tell me, Elrond, how long has it been since you have seen your darling wife." At this, Elrond was alarmed. He would have leapt up from the bed, but strangely, it seemed that he could not move. Instead, he clenched his hands into fists and retorted neutrally, "It has been many years, though I wonder why you ask me this." He did not try and bite back the sarcasm as he studied the demon with a chilly gaze.
The Badingor seemed delighted with the Elf's reply and he reeled back, laughing. "Oh, Elrond. You and Thranduil… the two of you never cease to amuse me," he said. Elrond bit back the desire to snap at the Badingor and instead he said in a controlled voice, "Oh, is that so." His eyes narrowed coldly and the Badingor noticed this.
"What was your love's name?" the Badingor put on a mask of mock questioning and he said, lips curling into a sly smile, "Was her name, by any chance, Celebrían?" How the demon knew of his wife, Elrond did not know and the lord fought back a cry of horror. His eyes widened though, he could not keep his calm mask in place and the Badingor laughed gleefully.
"And, did she look like this?" he crowed. Suddenly, he seemed to be dimming, like a candle about to die out. The details of his face and body were blurred, until all Elrond could make out in the moonlit room, was a dark figure. Slowly, the tall, lean figure shrank, to a slender, smaller figure. The details of the figure sharpened and when Elrond saw the face, he let out a chocked gasp.
In the Badingor's place was Celebrían. The same beautiful, kind face was there, the same calm smile. Elrond could not move. He wanted to leap out of his bed and race towards his beloved, but he could not move. He was frozen and his heart was torn in agony. The wife he had not seen in many, many years was standing before him, a kind smile on her beautiful face, and Elrond could. Not. Move!
"It pains you," she spoke, her voice low and tender like Elrond remembered. "Why do you not come to me? Let me embrace you… I have missed you for so long…"
Elrond stared, and he felt a burning start at his throat and eyes as he realized his wife was fading, dimming as the Badingor had done before. He stared as the one he missed and loved faded into shadow and disappeared. The Badingor did not come back and Elrond broke down, misery and grief fresh in his heart. Sobs tore from his throat, and he wept like he had never before, for he was a lord of his own realm and lords did not cry…
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"I worry for my father," Elladan said to Gandalf in the morning. The wizard looked up with an all-knowing look on his face and he nodded. The two were sitting in Thranduil's library, doing nothing in particular. "Aye, as do I," Gandalf replied, his usual mirthful eyes troubled. "Both he and Thranduil have had nightly visits from the Badingor, and I know naught of what they spoke of with him, for they do not tell me."
At that moment, Elrohir swept into the room, a wide frown on his fair face. "I have just seen Father," he announced, a slight thoughtful frown on his face. "He walked down the hall like a ghost…" Gandalf put down a book that he held in his hands. "Where does he head to?" he asked sharply. "To the Gardens, I believe," Elrohir replied, seriousness coating his usual mirthful features.
Gandalf nodded his thanks and he disappeared from the room with more grace than one his age could have. Elrohir sat down on the edge of the seat the Istar had occupied moments before. "Elladan," he said softly. His twin met his eyes and Elrohir continued, "Do you think we should speak to Father?"
"Mithrandir speaks to him now," Elladan assured. "If he fails, we should try." Elrohir nodded, though doubtfully. "Perhaps we should do something to clear our minds, my brother."
Elladan looked up from the window, interested. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, eyes brightening for mischief. Elrohir shrugged. "I know naught, but I do know that some Mirkwood Elves are going scouting this afternoon." He grinned impishly and Elladan's face curved into an identical smile. "Then, Elrohir, let us join them."
They leapt up from their seats, trying their best to cover the despair they both felt. The dark feeling was forgotten in a moment of mirth, but it was dubious at how long it would last.
Warm sunlight shined down on the twins of Imladris as they escaped outside. "I half expected Legolas to be jesting when he told us that his father's palace was built within a cave!" Elrohir snorted. Elladan grinned widely, "And to think he complains to us of Dwarves when he lives like one." The two laughed warmly, and what they found even more ludicrous was that their words were not true at all, for the Mirkwood King's palace was luxurious. The rooms of the palaces were decorated with plants and flowers, and their lingering scent doused each room with a wonderful aroma. It was, by fact, more of a forest than a cave.
As the twins passed the archery fields, they paused in their walk to watch as several Elves practiced their archery. Elladan's eyes were wide and he breathed, "Legolas was not jesting about his people's skills either, Elrohir, and to think that our little Greenleaf won the tournament King Thranduil had held!"
Elrohir nodded and they lingered on the edge of the fields to watch as arrow after arrow was fired with precise aim. It was true that the Rivendell Elves were masters of craft, but it was the Mirkwood Elves who held the legendary skill for their warriors. To see a dozen fine archers gathered on the fields like this had entranced the two Imladris brothers and they were strongly reminded of a tournament that was held many a year ago, before they had been graced with the presence of Estel.
Thranduil had sent messages to both Imladris and Lothlorien, announcing that Mirkwood was to hold a tournament for the finest warrior in the realm of the Elves. The Wood-Elves dominated the archery fields, in which both Elladan and Elrohir failed miserably at. It was then that Elladan and Elrohir met Legolas. He was younger than most of the competitors, and was thought of a lesser threat than twins.
Legolas, however, shocked hundreds as he bested many of the archers there. Arrow after arrow was shot, and the elves of the three kingdoms watched, spell bound, as Legolas ruled the fields without a thought. By the time his quiver was empty, Legolas looked content with the tournament, and he seemed ready to be off.
Elladan and Elrohir had met with him, after the archery session and spoke to him vigorously. Legolas seemed both embarrassed and perplexed at the brothers' kinds words, and he said to them, "It is just something I love doing and I do not think I should speak so soon, sons of Elrond-" here, he grinned and laughed, "-for the sparring turn of the tournament is beginning now. The best of luck to you two."
"Wait just a minute," Elladan had said, with a grin on his face, "why do you not join Elrohir and I? We are on our way there as well." Legolas had smiled brightly and nodded enthusiastically. The sparring session had started with a clash of blades from Lothlorien and Rivendell. The victory had belonged to the Golden Woods, but Rivendell was not far behind. Each kingdom rose to victory more than once, until only the finalists from each kingdom had ascended: Haldir the Tall Watcher Lorien, Elladan, son of Elrond of Rivendell (Elrohir had come in a close victory), and Legolas the Crown Prince of Mirkwood.
The battles were hard, tense, but an amazing sight to behold. Each competitor fought against their opponent fiercely, and from the stands, both Elrond and Thranduil watched proudly as their sons fought with amazing skill. The three Elves spun, parried, thrust their blades and the silver blades flashed in the dying sun, but it was at the end when Haldir outbest both Rivendell and Mirkwood Elf in sparring, so it was determined: Lorien had the best of swordsmen, Mirkwood had her legendary archers, and Rivendell? Ai, for the Elves of Rivendell, neither title nor prize was bestowed upon them that day, but Elrond of Rivendell was brimming with pride, for Elves of craft hardly did as well as his people had done that day.
Elrohir was drawn from his memories as Elladan nudged him lightly in the ribs. "Ai! Let us hurry if we are to scout the legendary spiders of Mirkwood." Elrohir nodded and the two hurried towards the Gate of Mirkwood and when the twins arrived, they gave a relieved sigh. "Ah, we have caught you in time!" Elrohir exclaimed approaching the small group of Mirkwood scouts.
The supposed captain must have recognized them as Elrond's sons, for he bowed graciously and said, "Hail and well met to you, sons of Elrond. Pray tell, what brings you here?" Elladan smiled brightly and said, "My brother, Elrohir, and I would like to join you on your scouting mission." The blond Elf looked from Elladan to Elrohir, a slight frown on his face. "Ah, perhaps another time. If what Prince Legolas has told is true, than Lord Elrond must not know about this."
Elrohir and Elladan exchanged exasperated, though amused, looks. Had Legolas told everyone about them? "Ai, please!" Elrohir pleaded, "We grow bored of wandering the halls of Mirkwood without a single thought. Your king has shown us great hospitality, but we desire to be out in the woods." Elladan grinned knowing that he could not have said it better himself.
The captain looked reluctant, but he nodded and sweeping his hand out to his warriors, who looked on alertly. "Then this is well," he said to them, a smile pulling at his face, "for two of my warriors will not be joining us on this trip." Elladan nodded and smiling at his brother, he leaned forward and said to the blond captain before him, "I am Elladan of Rivendell, and this is Elrohir."
The young captain looked overwhelmed that identical twins would be joining them, but the eyes of the Elves catch on quickly. "I am Syndek," he said to them, a fair eyebrow rising slowly, "and how will my warriors and I tell the two lords of Rivendell apart?"
"That is simple," Elrohir said quickly, ignoring his brother's open mouth. "Just keep in mind that I, Elrohir, am the fairer one." This earned him an irritated smack on the back of his head from his brother and a merry chuckle from the captain. Elladan cleared his throat and dismissed the evil look from his twin and said to Syndek, who watched all this with amusement, "Now then, shall we start?"
The captain nodded, a smile still on his fair face. Quietly, the scouts slid outside the Gates of Mirkwood quietly, and their departure went unnoticed. As the silver gates swung shut silently, the Elves entered the dark forest of Mirkwood. Eyes were alert and wary, and the warriors tensed at every sound.
Further into the forest the Elves walked, watching. Finally, when Syndek decided they had ventured deeply enough, he gave a signal and the Elves stealthily leapt up into a tree, with the grace that their kind only seemed to possess. Elladan and Elrohir followed this, all with the thrill and rush of excitement.
The Elves made their way through the trees, and all this was done without a spoke word. One by one, Elves began to drift off in small groups of three, four, or two in different directions. Syndek and another lithe blond Elf appeared at the twins' side and the captain said, "The others have gone west, north, and south, so let us head east." Without another word, the two Mirkwood Elves disappeared and Elladan and Elrohir followed in pursuit.
Chasing Legolas through the small forests of Rivendell had taught the two brothers the skill of tracking, an they followed the two blond Elves easily, and although no sight of either Elf was visible, the twins followed the occasional out of place rustles in the leaves of the trees, that would go unnoticed to many.
When the four Elves drew to a halt, Syndek awarded them with a smile and praise: "You have done much better than I have expected!" Elladan and Elrohir grinned, pleased with his compliment and they shrugged it off, as if it were nothing and it was here that the two had gotten a clear view of the other silent warrior.
With his extremely light eyes, and white blond hair, the Elf looked as oddly out of place as the two Nolder Elves. Seeing the two studying him, the one explained in a quiet, "I am Túrinden, son of Renalé. I have journeyed here from the Woods of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel." Elladan's eyes widened slightly and he thought, What a trip this is! First I am meeting Mirkwood Elves and now Lorien Elves; with the presence of both my brother and I, Elves from the three kingdoms are all here. This gets stranger and stranger!
It seemed that Elrohir was having a similar thought, and he asked Túrinden, "What brings you here, son of Renalé?" The Lorien Elf answered politely, "My business if my own, I'm afraid." Elrohir gave an understandable nod, for if others asked what his family was doing in the halls of the Mirkwood King, he would have given a similar answer.
Suddenly, all the Elves stiffened, for they had heard, or rather sensed, a presence among them. Immediately, Syndek had drawn an arrow, and the other three did the same without question. Then creeping slowly farther out on the thick branch, Syndek peered out with keen eyes and suddenly, he fired his arrow off to his right.
A moment after the twang of the bow, a scream sounded from the thick branches of another tree. A huge spider came tearing out of the branches, four of its eight legs reeling towards the sky. "Now," Syndek whispered, and the four Elves leapt down from the tree. "Aim for the underside!" Syndek hollered at them above the screams of the spider. "It is the most vulnerable-"
He was cut off by a clawed leg rushing towards his head. The Elf grunted and he dropped to the ground, only to leap back up and fire an arrow had flew into the eye of the beast. The spider reeled, screaming more loudly than ever. Its scream echoed on throughout the forest, but it was unlikely that any others would hear, for because of its thin body and foam bubbling at its mouth, which only occurred when a spider had been driven to the brink of insanity by starvation, Syndek knew this spider was a rogue spider that lived its life in the deserted territory of a former nest.
As Syndek drew the attention of the large, purple spider, Elladan raised his bow and aiming, he fired the arrow precisely where he meant to, the spider's neck. With an arrow protruding from its neck, and another from its eye, the spider wailed and screamed turning to face Elladan. It was then that Elrohir struck. With a blade, he leapt to the spider's side unnoticed, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he had spilt open the spider's side.
Blood fell to the ground in gushing torrents and Elrohir jumped away grimly, sword clutched tightly.
Túrinden had approached the spider from the top and leaping down from the trees, he landed lightly on the spider's hairy back. He crouched down and held on tightly as the spider bucked wildly, in agony of its wounds. When the spider stilled for the slightest moment, Túrinden raised his blade and rammed it down into the spider's neck and dark blood splashed everywhere.
The Lorien Elf leapt off the spider's back with a look of disgust blemishing his fair face. The spider collapsed, with a wheezing last breath and lay dying, getting no pity from the four Elves and suddenly, with its last breath, the spider spit out a venomous vapor. The dark gas surrounded both Elladan and Syndek, who was closest to the creature and the spider fell still, dead.
The two Elves, however, had begun coughing and sputtering. Both ran out of the vapor, eyes stinging and head pounding. Syndek muttered something under his breath, but his skin was paling slowly, and Elrohir watched in horror as the same happened to his brother. "Back… to Mirkwood," Syndek choked out. He swayed on his feet and fell to his knees, coughing still.
Elladan was not faring any better. His fair face was tight with pain and his skin seemed to ashen before Elrohir's very eyes. Elrohir caught his brother as he fell, and he looked up at Túrinden with wide eyes. "What do we do?" he asked, horrified as Elladan's skin began to grow icy. Túrinden looked up grimly and replied, "Return to the kingdom. The healers will care for them; there is nothing we can do out here, I fear."
Elrohir took a deep calming breath and nodded. Túrinden hoisted the limp captain up into his arms tenderly, with a sorrowful look in his eyes. Whispering soft words of comfort to his groaning friend and captain, the Lorien Elf turned to Elrohir and said quietly, but firmly, "We must hurry." Elrohir lifted his brother into his arms, and raced after Túrinden, who had gone off.
The two Elves ran through the woods of Mirkwood, pausing only for Túrinden to whistle signals to the others. Soon, as they neared the Gates, the other members of the scouting party appeared from the boughs of the trees, and for the first time in his haste, Elrohir noticed that they had watched over them all this way.
They watched with large, angry eyes as their captain let out a choked groan. The young blond captain's face was tight with raw pain, just as Elladan's was, and as Elrohir hurried into the kingdom, he heard the words of two soldiers, "These spiders have given us more than enough trouble! Let us wipe them out before it is too late!"
"Aye," the other agreed, though in a more calm and collected voice, "but shadow grows stronger in Dol Guldor. We cannot afford the ignore that…"
The voices grew fainter as Elrohir and Túrinden hurried inside the castle. "Ai, ai!" a guard cried, leaping up from his post. His face grew dark and worried. The two Elves barely threw the third one a glance as they raced towards the Healer's Room. It was on the way there that they bumped into Thranduil.
The bright eyes of the king darkened and he ushered the two into the Healer's Room without question. Once in there, he rolled up the sleeves of his scarlet robes and said to one of the healers, "I will need some athelas, and herbs. A kettle and some hot water as well. Quickly!" The healer dashed off as Túrinden and Elrohir laid the two poisoned Elves onto separate beds.
"Elrohir," Thranduil said, his usual strong and calm voice returning. "You will find your father in his private quarters. If he is resting, let him be." He glanced up for a moment, eyes sharp with concern. "Let him be if resting," he repeated firmly. Elrohir nodded and darted out of the door and into the hall.
The healer that Thranduil had sent for the items he needed returned seconds after Elrohir had left. "Boil some athelas… We will use its scent and steam to rid their lungs of the vapor they breathed. Also, do not throw out the remains inside the kettle, we will need them for tea."
Thranduil turned to another healer who had accompanied the first and ordered in a crisp tone, "Boil the herbs separately and please shut the windows."
The healer nodded and raced about the large room, shutting the windows so that the aroma of the athelas, spices, and herbs remained trapped in the room. "My lord?" Túrinden said hesitantly. "What of me? What shall I do?" Thranduil looked up, startled, for he had forgotten of the silent Lorien warrior and he replied, "Rest, Túrinden, son of Renalé. Your day has been hard."
Though on a normal day the young soldier would have burst with pride that the king remembered his name and his father's, Túrinden looked on alertly, not at all ready to retire for the evening. Suddenly, the doors opened: Elrohir had returned with both Elrond and Gandalf close behind him.
The sweet aroma of the athelas and the spicy smell of the herbs hung heavily in the air, but it seemed that both Elladan and Syndek were breathing more easily. Elrohir hurried towards his brother and placed a gentle hand on his twin's forehead. Where the flesh of Elladan was once icy cold, it was now burning hot.
Elrond was at his son's side in an instant, eyes alert and all trace of exhaustion gone. "What is this foul gas that poisons my son?" he demanded, standing and facing the Mirkwood King who was already busy with Syndek. "Spider vapors," he replied grimly, not bothering to look up. The boiling herbs and plants had eased the two Elves and their breathing had returned, though their skin was burning to the touch.
"Wet cloths," Thranduil said to a healer, who stood anxiously at his side. "One for Elrond as well." With a nod, the dark haired healer disappeared from his side and returned, seconds later, with wet clothes. Nodding his thanks, Thranduil took on and gently laid it on Syndek's forehead. The young captain groaned, but did not wake.
Elrond had taken the cloth as well, and he began to wipe Elladan's flushed face with it. Slowly, the flush on his face and neck disappeared and Elladan fell quiet. Gandalf made his way to the kettle and poured two cups of tea. Steam drifted up from the two cups in twisting, curving paths and the wizard set them on the table to cool, but Thranduil looked up and said, "Why don't you help yourself, Mithrandir?" he smiled slightly. "Their tea must be hot when they drink it, so please, keep the kettle boiling."
"Oh?" Gandalf said, raising his bushy eyebrows. He held a cup to his lips and made a face at the sharp, but not unpleasant, aroma. He took a suspicious sip of the tea and nearly spat it out, eyes wide, when he tasted. Thranduil laughed merrily at this and could not stop, for it was not everyday when you see a wizard retch over a small cup of tea,
Glowering, Gandalf set the cup on the table and said to Thranduil, "A wizard's revenge is always sweet." The Mirkwood King did not seem offended or affected at all, for he merely laughed harder. Elrond joined them at the table and sat. "I have never before seen this sort of poison. Poisonous vapors from a spider?" he said to both Thranduil and Gandalf with a bewildered look on his face.
Thranduil nodded gravely. "Aye, Mirkwood has seen much of this sort," he said softly, eyes becoming distant as some thoughts resurfaced. Gandalf cleared his throat loudly and Thranduil snapped back to attention, though an irritated look had planted itself on his face. Elrohir had pulled up a chair besides Elladan and Túrinden had done the same by Syndek.
"He is not from Mirkwood," Gandalf pointed out randomly, his eyes on Túrinden. Thranduil nodded and glanced at the fair-haired Elf. "One of the Galadhrim, that one," he said softly. Gandalf nodded, "Ah, yes. Lorien folk." Elrond gave the wizard a queer look, which the wizard waved off. "What is he doing so far from his people?" Elrond asked softly.
"He is here on his personal business, just a short journey, I believe," Thranduil replied with the smallest of shrugs. Neither Thranduil's eyes, Gandalf's eyes, nor even Elrond's eyes left the young one's back. "He loves the captain," Elrond stated in the softest of voices. Thranduil glanced at him and replied, "Aye, he does, but he fears speaking of his emotions."
"…He fears rejection then?" Gandalf queried. Thranduil nodded. "Many a times, Legolas returned to me and spoke to me of Túrinden," the king said slowly. "He is in love with Syndek, if what Legolas told me is accurate." Both Gandalf and Elrond nodded understandably. "Legolas befriended him when he first came to Mirkwood, and Túrinden has trusted his secrets with Legolas…"
"Then how did you come about them?" Gandalf asked, eyes twinkling. Thranduil gave a low laugh, and his lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Being a father has its advantages, Mithrandir. Surely Elrond knows of what I speak."
The Lord of Imladris laughed and answered, "Aye, indeed I do! I can get nearly everything out of my sons. They speak to me of their troubles, but what I find odd is that they would rather speak to me of personal things than admitting to me what devilish plot they pulled that day." Gandalf and Thranduil laughed heartedly at this.
Suddenly a small groan from Syndek alerted them. The three stood and made their way to the two blond Elves. "He awakens then!" Túrinden cried out jubilantly. His light eyes shone with relief and happiness as Syndek's eyes fluttered open. Letting out a grimace, Syndek attempted to sit up. "Túrinden," Thranduil said sharply, "please pour some tea for Syndek."
Túrinden nodded and hurried back with a hot cup of tea. The captain took the cup weakly, and Thranduil helped him sit up. He carefully steadied the other's shaky grip and held the cup to his lips. The captain drank obediently, although he winced from time to time because of the bitter taste.
When, at last, the cup was empty, Thranduil released Syndek and the captain sank back into his pillows with a more alert look on his face. "How fares Elladan?" he asked, truly concerned. He glanced over at the other bed where Elrohir had drifted off besides. The younger twin was genuinely weary, for he carried his brother and raced back to Mirkwood, not stopping to rest.
"He is fine," Elrond replied, glancing, too, at his sons. Syndek smiled and nodded. "Much thanks to Túrinden and Elrohir," Thranduil said, a gleam in his eyes, "you two have survived. I believe you owe a thanks to Túrinden." The Lorien Elf flushed slightly at this, and Gandalf looked on with shining eyes. Elrond looked as if he were ready to knock some sense into Thranduil's head with Gandalf's own.
He glowered at Thranduil, who was gloating on the inside, and Elrond's eyes said: You do not even know if Syndek's heart belongs to another. Thranduil's eyes were gleaming with silent laughter and his emerald eyes, so full of mirth, replied: Ai, do not worry yourself, Elrond. I have paired two off before. Gandalf saw this exchange between the two Elves and interrupted: Ahem, Elrond, your sons awaken.
Elrond's eyes widened in surprise and he turned to see Elrohir helping Elladan sit up. "Ah, Elladan," he said, sitting down at Elladan's other side. "How do you fare?"
"Quite fine, Ada," he replied, his voice hoarse, "but I have a tremendous headache. I feel as if a troop of wild oliphaunts raged over me." Elrohir beamed at his brother and replied, "Well, you lived, did you not?" Elladan scowled, though his eyes were loving and filled with amusement. "Hope is restored; the stars are shining; and sun is beaming," he retorted sarcastically.
Elrohir beamed again, laughing with relief that his brother was fine. "Drink this, young Elladan," Gandalf said, handing him a cup of tea. Elladan took it gratefully and as he took a big gulp, he sputtered and choked. "Are you trying to murder me, Mithrandir, just when I have pulled an amazing recovery?" he asked incredulously. The wizard laughed and he replied, "Tell that not to me, but Thranduil. That mad Elf tried to make me drink the same vile thing."
All gazes turned to Thranduil, who was sitting at the table drinking something that smelled pleasant. "And what exactly is that?" Gandalf raged, standing over Thranduil. The king looked up and replied innocently, "Just a speck of tea, mind you." The wizard gave a sniff, and he laughed loudly.
"Tea? Ai, indeed it is tea, but athelas tea! You make your patients drink tea doused in spices and herbs while you treat yourself to athelas tea?" the wizard laughed. Laughter bubbled from all and even Thranduil cracked a small grin. "It is medicine. I give them what they need," Thranduil replied. Mischief was all over his fair face, and oh, how he reminded all of Legolas.
"It seems," Gandalf complained light-heartedly, "that you grow more into Legolas, than he you." Thranduil made a face and he set down the empty teacup. "And you, Mithrandir, are childish yourself for claiming revenge on me," he replied. The wizard laughed, and for a moment, every one's troubles were forgotten.
-
Doomed, damned, trappedIs what I am today.
"I am happy now,"
Is all I have to say.
-The Poetry of Elfling-
"Talk to me, Legolas," Aragorn said.
Legolas glanced at the man, surprised. "What do you mean?" Aragorn made a face as the two trudged on. "Surely, you jest," he replied sourly, "You must have noticed that you have been silent for the past hour." Legolas seemed startled, but he smiled and shrugged. Silence was on them again and Aragorn glowered.
"Legolas," he said suddenly. The Elf gazed at the ranger from the corner of his eye, irritated. "Do you have a maiden back home you think of now?" Legolas' mouth dropped open. "W-what?" he sputtered. Aragorn grinned devilishly. "Do you?" he asked. "Because you were deep in your own thoughts and you would not answer me." Legolas flushed slightly. "What matter is it to you?" he snapped.
Aragorn's eyes lit up and he snickered, delighted with where this was going. "You have a lover, don't you?"
"No!"
"Liar!"
"I do not lie, Strider."
"Right…" Aragorn stared at the Elf, a smug smile on his face.
"What!" Legolas demanded, heated now. "Do you have a lover, Strider? If you do, you must drive her insane with her endless prying."
Now it was Aragorn's turn to glower and he muttered, "Be quiet, Elf."
"You started it, human."
"Ha!"
"Strider," Legolas said suddenly, coming to a stop. "Do you smell that?" Aragorn paused and stilled, staring intently at Legolas. "You are trying to distract me," he accused. Legolas glared at him. "Nay!" he shot back. His gaze turned serious and he took a sniff of the night air. Aragorn did the same and it dawned on the two. Something was…
"There is something burning!" he exclaimed. Legolas nodded and without a second thought, they glanced back in the direction they had come from and saw a trail of dark smoke seeping into the air. The two darted in that direction and it was many minutes after that they had arrived at a small house. Byrium soldiers surrounded it, laughing and cheering as the roof of the house caved in.
One woman was sitting in the street, tears on her face, wailing, "Somebody, please! My daughter and her friend are in there!" Legolas exchanged a dark look with Aragorn, both feeling an immense hate towards the soldiers. Legolas pushed through the soldiers and ran to the door of the house, looking up with a look of anguish on his fair face.
He turned and saw that Aragorn had shoved through the line of soldiers, and as the Byrium men started for them with angry shouts, Aragorn kicked the burning door down and the two leapt in. Immediately, they were swallowed by heat. An orange haze from the flames coated the room, and coughing, Aragorn shouted, "I'll check upstairs!"
Seeing Legolas nod, the ranger hurried up the collapsing stairs and came face to face with a young lady. Dark hair cascaded down her back, and as the flames licked at her white dress, she hastily pulled her hair into a long ponytail. "Who are you?" she demanded, her eyes flashing. Her golden skin shone like red in the fire.
Her house is on fire and what she asks is who I am! "I can introduce myself once we are out," Aragorn replied. The girl nodded slightly, though she looked quite suspicious. Aragorn took her wrist and plunged back down the stairs. Upon reaching the first floor, Aragorn looked about wildly and called, "Legolas!" A door to his right burst open and Legolas leapt out, a girl behind him.
The girl behind Aragorn let out a happy whoop and she cried out, "Rhysenn!" The one behind Legolas tore her gaze away from the Elf and grinned. "Aha! Paige!" Aragorn ignored the two and he called to Legolas. The Elf nodded, the same thought on his mind. Since the door was burning, there was only one think left to do.
With a yell, Aragorn jumped out of a window, Paige clutching him tightly. When they landed, the small girl let go and sank to the floor, looking up at the house with a dazed look on her face. A second later, Legolas leapt out, Rhysenn wrapped in his arms. He landed gracefully and released Rhysenn. He straightened and it was at that moment he saw the soldiers heading towards them.
"What the hell did you idiots think you were doing?" the leader of this burning shouted. He was a lean man, with a hungry look in his eyes and a malicious sneer. "You set fire to this house," Aragorn said coolly. The soldier's face twisted into a ugly snarl and he drew his sword. Legolas downed on the blade with a disdainful mask on his fair face and the soldier must have noticed this, for he raised his blade and spat, "What the hell are you looking at?"
Legolas said nothing and this angered the man much more than one would have thought. From the corner of his eye, Aragorn could see Paige being wrapped up in the arms of the woman who had been bawling earlier. Rhysenn stood apart from the crowd, staring intently at soldier, brows furrowing.
Suddenly, she said, "Damn you." The only sound was the crackling of the burning house and all attention turned to the young lady. Paige stood, and headed besides Rhysenn, a fiery anger alit in her eyes.
"What did you say to me?" the soldier demanded. He stalked over to them, eyes shining with rage. Rhysenn's lips curled into a cynical smile and she said coldly, "You have come here and burned someone else's home. Why should you not be damned to the shadows for eternity and will you kill me for saying that? Kill me just as you have killed others? If I die by your hand, so be it, but I have gotten the satisfaction of telling you what you are… which is a monster." The soldier was outraged and Legolas looked on horrified, as two girls stood there, side by side, looking over much like dark angels with their white dresses and black hair.
The soldier quivered with rage and suddenly, Paige said angrily, "What will you do for my family now? You have burned down our home, and where can we live then? In the streets?" she spat at his feet. "People like you make this world a horrid place. You dim-witted, ugly, disgusting vile troll." Blinded by rage, the soldier slammed the blade into the one he was nearest to.
There was only silence as all watched. Eyes followed the soldier's blade to its victim. Aragorn watched horrified as Paige sunk to the floor and curled up into a ball, but Rhysenn just stood there, smiling slightly. Realization struck the ranger and he knew that the one who the soldier had stabbed was Rhysenn.
The dark-haired girl's eyes fluttered slightly, and as the soldier pulled out his blade, she collapsed. Her dark eyes were half lidded and her skin pale. She had given neither a cry nor a last word, but had just fallen. Legolas let out a choked gasp and knelt by the girl's side, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but faint and slowly…
It grew fainter…
And fainter…
Until it was gone…
-
*looks up from my bowl of cherries* Well, I ask, enthusiastically, How was it? I know there wasn't much of Legolas and Aragorn in this chapter, but at least I gave you that ending, right? Right? The way Rhysenn died was actually how someone died in Bianca's dream. I thought I'd use it for a 'dramatic' finish instead of yelling, screaming, and kicking. Please excuse the mistakes, I haven't had much tine to edit this, no thanks to Bianca, buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut:
Thanks to Bianca! Death just wouldn't be anything without you! *griiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin*
Oh, yes! Kudos to everyone who left a review and kudos to all you will leave you… and I urge you to do so… *menacing glare* … or feel my horrendous wrath…
Thank you and have a nice day!
Until Next Time,
Elfling
