Let's see, the last time I updated was Sept. 11. I didn't realize how much of a procrastinator I was. But you must excuse me for my extreme tardiness. I've had papers to write, tests to study for. It's been Armageddon all over again. Well, I hope you'll forgive me for my late post and I *am* suffering from my guilty conscience. NO, Bianca, I'm not being sarcastic.

Oh, a little side note to Alida-Fruit: You must understand that you have my condolences for not reading your chapters since my last review. A lot of things have been piled up on me and I swear on my brilliant plot ferrets that I will catch up as soon as I can. And for those of you who haven't read Alida's work, you must forget about this chapter and go read Alida's "Living Legends" and "Fading Hope" (though she has failed to update on the second story for a long time. *glares at Alida*).

Happy Reading all. (except you, ALIDA-FRUIT! Because you have to go and work on Fading Hope. I think your plot bunnies have gone on a strike. *cheeky grin*)

Well Met Indeed

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Chapter 13 – To Fly With Broken Wings

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"Never try to fly with broken wings unless you're willing to risk a fall…"

          It was midnight when Elladan woke up, sweat coating flawless skin. He was burning, and suddenly, as quickly as the heat came, it was gone. The coolness of Mirkwood hit him at full blast and he shivered, bumps traveling up his arms. From the other bed a low groan sounded. With eyes luminous in the white moon beams, Elladan turned to his awakening brother.

          "Elladan?" Elrohir muttered thickly. He blinked his glazed eyes a few times, sitting up. "Return to sleep, brother," came Elladan's soothing answer. Elladan lay back down, staring at the high ceiling, thoughtful. Elrohir, however, did not lay back down. Instead, his dark eyes became a bit more brighter and alert.

          "Why are you awake, Elladan?" he questioned, eyes not moving from his brother. Elladan glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "It was nothing but a dream I can remember naught," he replied firmly. Elrohir looked even more perplexed at his twin's words. The light in Elladan's eyes dimmed slightly, a sign of drifting on into sleep.

          And Elrohir frowned in annoyance, for he was not done speaking. He grabbed his pillow and shot it at his brother. It bounced off his head and ricocheted onto the floor. Elrohir watched in slight satisfaction as his brother sat up, slowly. Then, in an ever so eerie silence, Elladan faced his brother, his eyes bright, though his face remained stony.

          "That was uncalled for," he said in a hushed voice, dark eyebrow arching. Elrohir tipped his head to the side with a cock of his eyebrows. "I believe it was," he answered, also keeping his voice down. Elladan looked ready to smile, "Oh, and why was it called for, Elrohir?" Elrohir kept a straight face. "Because you listened naught, Elladan," he mimicked.

          Elladan's face curved into something between a smile and a smirk. "Ah, you demon child!" he laughed. A smile graced the other's face. Elrohir stood and quietly, his feet bare against the cold floor, he stepped over to Elladan's bed. Without a warning, he dropped onto the large bed and gave a small sigh of satisfaction as he came in contact with the bed.

          "It is heavenly," he murmured, eyes fluttering close. Elladan gave a snort and with his feet, tried to quickly shove his brother off his bed. "Elrohir," he said in a voice that much stressed Elrond, "please refrain yourself from my bed before I indelibly smash in your head. Besides, I do not see what the difference is between the two beds!" Elrohir opened one eye and gazed at him as if Elladan's words had no sense.

          "Ah, that is but a sad, sad reason, brother," he replied, sitting up now. Elladan cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell," he spoke with a roll of his eyes, though a smile came upon his lips. Elrohir drew in a breath and sighed dramatically. Remembering to keep his voice lowered, he said, "It is a well known fact that you, Elladan, son of Elrond and my brother, are the better liked twin."

          In spite of himself, Elladan let out a muffled chuckled and swatted his brother's head. "And whatever happened to 'I am the fairer one'?" Elladan teased, leaning against the bed's backboard. Elrohir sat up, nodding, "My point exactly, Elladan! Because I am so fair, people tend to envy me, and envy often leads to hate."  Elrohir let out a melodramatic sigh, and he was rewarded with a pillow flying into his face.

          He sputtered, not yet recovering from the surprise attack and by that time, Elladan had already shoved him off the bed, laughing loudly. With his dignity injured, the younger of the twins tackled the other, and the two went rolling onto the floor. With a thud, they landed on the hard floor of the room.

          Elladan let out a grunt as Elrohir fell atop him, and with a deep breath and growl, he heaved his laughing twin off of him. "You drive me mad, brother," he said, scowling, though the light amusement was detectable in his face. Elrohir shook his head and laughed furiously, forgetting that it was the mid of night.

          The door suddenly opened, letting in a beam of golden light. Both brothers looked up, startled, but their broad grins resurfaced when they saw the looming figure of their father. Elrond stalked into the darkened room, an irritated scowl on his face. "Bed," he said sternly and his sons scrambled into their original beds, eyes wide and mouths twisted up in a sheepish grin.

          "On your backs." Immediately the brothers obeyed. They lay down and drew the covers up.

          "Sleep."

          And with that, the door closed again and the room, once again, became the night's domain. A peaceful silence remained for a moment or two until Elrohir finally crawled into Elladan's bed again.

          Outside, Elladan's muted complaints and Elrohir's protests could be heard, and Lord Elrond knew that this night, there would be no sleep for him.

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          He could not do this.

          Thranduil paced his living quarters, hands clasped behind his back. A worried frown was sketched into his fair features as he stalked back and forth like a caged animal. The Elf-King cursed, for his decision to leave for Rivendell swayed during the night.

          He could not leave his people and kingdom now. It was absurd, and he knew not how Gandalf had managed to persuade the king to even consider leaving in the first place! He cursed again, though silently this time, and he was so deep in his worries that he did not hear quiet knock upon the door, nor did he hear the door even open.

          "I see you are up."

          Thranduil jerked his head up, clearly startled. Gandalf stood in the doorway, a wry smile on his old and wrinkled face. "Syndek and Túrinden have agreed to accompany you to Rivendell, yes?" the wizard questioned casually. Thranduil nodded sharply, the dark expression never leaving his face. He and the wizard stared long and hard at each other, neither backing down first.

          Finally, with a silent concede, Thranduil turned his glance to the freshly broken dawn. An array of red, copper, and gold mixed in with the pearly night sky, and the white stars were slowly fading away into the light. "I am having doubts, Mithrandir," he finally said, his elegant brows knotted together. He turned to Mithrandir and began pacing again.

          The wizard followed the king's movements and he seated himself at the small table in the corner. He said nothing, but took note of the nearly empty glass pitcher, which was decorated beautifully with emerald vines and flowers of the palest lavender. "You did not sleep," inquired Gandalf with a slight raise of his bushy eyebrows.

          Thranduil did not even attempt to lie. Instead, he seated himself across from the wizard, the agitation never leaving his face. His green eyes flickered from the wizard to the elegant tapestries that hung from his walls. Upon each rich cloth was a picture, each one different from the next, of when Mirkwood was known as Greenwood the Great.

          "I cannot leave my people," said he finally. His gaze met Gandalf's now. "There is a demon loose, Mithrandir! I just… I just do not trust myself to making the right decision."

          "It is for your safety, Thranduil," the wizard's tone was sterner than ever. "You have not been eating, you have not been resting. You do nothing but worry and blame yourself. This Badingor is causing you much grief and frustration. It is best if you left him to me."

          Thranduil immediately rebutted, "But I cannot abandon Mirkwood!" Anger was evident on his face now. "I care not for my well being as of this moment. It is my people I worry for. Why can I just remain here as you deal with him?"

          "Would you really, Thranduil? I believe it is best if you venture to Rivendell and await your son," Gandalf replied coolly and with a note of finality he said, "You will go, Thranduil." But the king was stubborn, and the anger and frustration he had been feeling for weeks erupted. 

          "I cannot! Listen to me, Mithrandir! I have responsibilities! I am their king! I must protect them in anyway I can! I must fight this demon and vanquish it from my lands! It will not help me to run away to Elrond's realm!"

          "You are not running, Thranduil. You are their king, yes, but you can do nothing now. It is my business which I should have accomplish weeks ago. You are their king, not a god! They know that. If they knew what pain you go through now, they would not compel it upon you, Thranduil," Gandalf's face softened and he stood. "Syndek and Túrinden are preparing the horses. They will meet you at the Gates."

          Without waiting for an answer, the wizard swept off, leaving Thranduil alone to his thoughts.

-

          When Gandalf arrived at the Gates, he saw only the sons of Elrond and the two Mirkwood warriors. "Where is your father?" the wizard questioned to any twin in particular. Elladan and Elrohir gave identical shrugs. "We know not, Mithrandir," Elladan admitted. "Elrohir and I believed him to be with you."

          Elrohir looked up from where he stood feeding his horse a handful of oats. "There he comes now," he murmured, shading his eyes against the bright, afternoon sun with his free hand. Gandalf turned and his face creased into a small smile. "Ah, so there he is," he said softly, though to himself mostly. Elrond of Rivendell advanced down the steps, Thranduil only a few small steps behind him.

          Both Elves wore riding cloaks, though Elrond's was a rich brown, tinged slightly with red, and Thranduil's the usual official colors of Mirkwood, shades of green. They wore handsome tunics that matched the color of their cloaks. Elrond's face lifted up into an automatic smile when he caught sight of the awaiting party, though it seemed that Thranduil had not noticed. His handsome face bore lines of deep anxiety and quick glances were thrown over his shoulder at his castle every few steps.

          When the two reached the party, Syndek and Túrinden swept into dutiful bows. Only a slight incline of Thranduil's head showed them that he was not completely lost in his thoughts. "Are you ready to depart, Elrond, Thranduil?" Gandalf said with a raise of his eyebrows. Elrond nodded and he turned to the Stables Master who had just joined them.

          "My horse if you please?" he said politely. The dark-haired Elf nodded humbly and quickly swept off into one of the large stables. Elladan swung onto his steed, a dappled grey mare with bright, brown eyes. It tossed its head and stepped to the side, adjusting to the new weight upon its back, but was quiet again.

          Following his lead, Elrohir climbed nimbly onto his own horse, a dark colored steed. Syndek and Túrinden did not however mount their horses. Instead, they talked animatedly, Syndek absentmindedly rubbed his horse's forehead gently. Elrohir's mouth curved into a wicked grin and he elbowed his brother in the ribs. Elladan's attention shot from a pretty Elf maiden who was leading her horse out to his brother, and he scowled.

          However, the scowl melted away as soon as he saw what his brother was watching. Túrinden was nodding and speaking rapidly, his eyes bright and filled with utmost respect and love. Syndek was, however, oblivious to this, and the fair-haired warrior only continued to smile warmly and point out his thoughts.

          "King Thranduil, Lord Elrond."

          The Stables Master had returned. Following him briskly were two handsome horses, one a tall, proud bay colored horse and the other a sleek chestnut. Elrond nodded his thanks and the Stables Master bowed again. "Is there any more you request of me?" he asked as he slowly looked up. Elrond shook his head.

          "Thank you," Elrond said kindly, "your assistance is much appreciated." The other Elf nodded and swept away with a final bow. Elrond's chestnut colored horse walked slowly to him, her gentle, liquid-like eyes alert. He rubbed her neck and smiled at her fondly, for she was his favorite mare. The other horse had made its way to the Mirkwood king, who was once again trying to convince Gandalf that it was best that he remain here.

          The horse waited patiently at its master's side as Thranduil demanded that he stay. But Gandalf's decision had been made and there was no changing it, so it was in the end that Thranduil climbed atop his noble steed; a proud Elf-King defeated by an old man, he had said.

          The Gates of Mirkwood opened slowly, and the small party disappeared into the gloom of the forest. Gandalf waved a farewell to them before turning briskly and heading inside the castle. The guards at the doors had quickly let the wizard in, and Gandalf hurried to Mirkwood's library. He did not pause as he opened the door aggressively.

          With a speed no one would have expected him to have, Gandalf leaned his wooden staff against the richly decorated walls and hurried to the large, towering bookshelves. He scanned the sections swiftly, but when he did not find the specific section he searched for, he exploded: "Ah, curse it!"

          "May I be of any assistance?"

          The wizard turned, clearly surprised that another was in the quiet library. He saw a beautiful Elf maiden standing there, a large, leather-bound book in her hands. A plain white dress hung from her tall lithe frame, and her dark hair cascaded down her back. But Gandalf noted something about her eyes. They were an odd yellow that would have caused any to shiver. There was also a strange aura around her, and it filled Gandalf with a feeling of dread.

          "Ah, thank you, but no," Gandalf replied quickly, his eyes never leaving the maiden's face. The other, however, did not seem convinced. "I may be able to help if you are looking for a particular… section perhaps. A section on the lore of Byrium, maybe?" She raised the large book in her hands slightly, and Gandalf watched in concealed horror as her eyes glimmered red for the briefest of moments.

          "It is you!" he shouted, reaching for his staff. The beautiful Elf shimmered and began to fog, and suddenly, Gandalf found himself face to face with the Badingor.

-

          "Do try and cheer up, Elrohir."

          "Nay."

          "I did not deliberately fool you into straying off the path!"

          "I am not foolish enough to believe that, Elladan."

          "By the Valar, Elrohir!" Elladan exclaimed. "I did not know that the path you took was not the correct one! It was Syndek who fooled you!"

          "I did not!" Syndek cut in hotly from his position on his light grey, nearly white, steed. The party had traveled down the route mostly taken when traveling from Rivendell to Mirkwood, or the other way around. Though their trip had just begun, Elladan and Elrohir had started bantering before the horses were even out of Mirkwood's Gates.

          A few steps ahead of them, Elrond rode besides Thranduil, whose mood had not yet lightened. Túrinden, who rode ahead of the two noble Elves, paid no attention to the bickering. Instead, his eyes were alert and watchful as he slowly watched for danger. Slowly, his head turned from each shadow and even when Syndek rode up besides, he did not look away.

          "My apologies, Túrinden," Syndek said quietly, his voice low enough for only his friend to hear. "I did not mean to be distracted by the sons of Elrond." Túrinden nodded sharply and with one more quick glance, he turned to Syndek, and said quietly, "I do not mind at all, my friend, but I grow wary. I suppose I do not need to warn you to kind your eyes and ears open?"

          The captain laughed quietly at the other's slight tease, and he nodded, still smiling warmly, "And to think that I am captain." With that, the echo of laughter died away, as did the bickering of the twins. Their fast trek through the forest of Mirkwood was not a safe one, and when an eerie silence began to settle in their area of the forest, Syndek slowed to a halt.

          "It has been for nearly two hours and a half since this strange quiet befell us," he spoke quietly to Lord Elrond and King Thranduil. "I believe that there is something following us, Your Highness." Thranduil's eyes darkened slightly and he said slowly, "Then whatever it is, it is quick and silent. I think it best if we continue on our way."

          Syndek nodded, but he said thoughtfully, "And suppose whatever is following us attacks when we still ride? It is but an honest question, my king." Thranduil seemed to consider this when at last he said, "Will we be ready for an attack?" Syndek frowned slightly and he gazed around at the other riders in deep thought.

          "Aye," he finally answered. "I believe we shall be ready. I am not at all worried about Túrinden or myself." Elrohir nearly laughed at Syndek's worries. "Do not fret, dear captain," he said lightly. "Elladan and I are more than capable for a fight." Syndek nodded, "Aye, this I know." He glanced at Elrond and Thranduil. "In truth," he admitted quietly, "I worry for King Thranduil and Lord Elrond."

          Thranduil and Elrond exchanged surprised glances and suddenly, they laughed quietly. "Do try and remember," Elrond said, a warm smile on his face, "that your king and I have fought in more battles than any of you." The captain, when hearing this, looked slightly embarrassed. Thranduil snorted again, though it was not an act one would expect of a king.

          "Let us continue, and Syndek, do try not to fuss over us," he said, his eyes laughing silently. Syndek looked ready to protest, but he gave a shrug, for it was futile to argue with two lords. The group continued their trek towards Rivendell and as Elrond looked up to study the wild terrain around them, he could not help but wonder about a certain ranger and elf.

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Okay, that chapter was bad. I admit it and I know it. It was boring, in my opinion. And my next chapter will be much better, I assure you. Bear with me for this chapter, and I promise more Legolas and Aragorn parts in the next chapter.

Thank you to all those who've reviewed. You've made my day. And a big extra thank you to all my new reviewers. You each deserve a lollipop.

Till Later,

T.L. Penn