I am so very sorry, but my computer is freaking out and will not allow me to stay online for more than 3 minutes at a time. Because of this I cannot reply to your reviews as I cannot stay on long enough to get to them.

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"Leaves of Glass"

Chapter 11 - So Close

Elrohir walked serenely through the garden that lay just below his bedroom, basking in the dying light of the setting sun. The past months had been tiring on the elf. There had been several bands of orcs roaming far to close to their home and he and his twin had spent many a night, and some days, destroying the foul creatures.

The younger of the twin sons of Elrond stopped walking, his head turned to the sky, his bright eyes disappearing behind closed lids as he took in a deep breath of the clean, fresh air of his home. He would protect this place he loved for as long as he could. He had vowed this many times.

A moment later he felt a sudden deep sense of foreboding and fear. He opened his eyes to find his brother, older by a few minutes only, standing on the balcony that led to his room. The feeling, Elrohir knew, was coming from him. His brother was troubled indeed for such a strong wave of emotion to reach him. Often he felt these feelings, shared his brother's fears, and his joys; and Elladan in return shared his. But on most occasions it was more of a knowing than an actual physical feeling.

"Man raeg, muindor?" Elrohir asked his twin, his eyes searching out Elladan's in the failing light. ("What's wrong, brother?")

Elladan stared out into the distance, his eyes fixed on a place far from where they stood. "Estel was supposed to return today." He said quietly.

"Oh, Dan. You worry too much." Elrohir laughed softly. Though he loved his young brother just as strongly as Elladan it was always the older twin that took the extra precaution to keep him safe. Elrohir preferred to treat him as if he were truly an elf, for that is what he wished. And admittedly that attitude had gotten the young Dunadain in trouble on several occasions, but he always came out relatively unharmed and happier for the success.

"He has never not returned when he said he would." Elladan reminded his twin, his eyes finally lowering to meet the identical set beneath him.

Elrohir could feel his brother's fear like a palpable thing; something he could grasp in his hand. He was right. It was not like their young human brother to break his word. "Give him a while, Dan." He said assuredly, knowing his brother felt the anxiousness that crept over his spine. "He will return. Often we ourselves have been late on returning, for simple reasons like the weather. Do not fear for Estel. He will be alright."

The two brothers eyes stayed locked on each other. Elrohir slowly felt the fear fall away from his twin's troubled mind, but an uneasiness settled in its place. One that he shared.

*

"He was so close." Legolas whispered, his head resting against the back of the wooden chair. "So close."

Strider nodded, knowing no words would comfort the prince now. Least of all from him. He gently tipped the elf's face towards the light, inspecting the raw skin that wrapped in a thick circle around Legolas' face. It had been a week since Avarilas' arrival with the envoy and this was the first time Strider had been able to see the prince.

They had kept a heavy guard posted at all corners of the tent and chains kept him tied securely to the bed. Heavy chains had been wrapped around his ankles and wrists, a short length of chain connecting them in the middle so that Legolas could just barely stand straight. Another chain attached to the ankles kept him within 5 feet of the bed. And until now they had left the horrid gag in whenever he was not eating. They would take no chances that the elves may come back and hear him.

But now Strider had been 'given' to Legolas temporarily to help him function since the guards were tired of catering to their captive. The Ranger looked closely at the raw skin, cleansing it gently with warm water. He did not look into the haunted blue eyes that stared ahead.

"Some still wait outside the camp." Strider said as he put away the bowl and clean cloths. "They watch from the forest. I have tried to walk near where they keep lookout, but I do not think they recognize me."

Legolas nodded slowly. "It has been a while since you last visited Mirkwood with y-Elrond. They may be new to the palace guard, or they may simply not recognize you as a grown man."

A thick silence filled the tent for a long while.

Legolas sighed heavily, only breaking the silence after it became unbearable. His back curved so that his head rested in his bound hands. "Ai, Iluvitar*. Garo le cûn le dan lim le hên?" ("Have you turned your back on your child?")

"Car-ú pedo sui, nin caun." Strider implored, boldly reaching out to grasp Legolas' shoulder. ("Do not speak like [that], my prince.")

"Im and an i yrn, Estel." The desolate creature sighed. His head shook back and forth in his hands; slowly, as if it hurt to move even so little. Though it was not a physical hurt that Strider sensed in the prince. ("I long for the trees,)

"An i sûl. An i aror. A edregol an i elenath." Legolas continued. His voice was soft, defeated. "They have not allowed me to leave the tent, even to stand in the entrance and watch the sun rise, in nearly a month. They grew weary of watching me, so they do not let me leave. I fear I will never see these things again. And yet, I fear even more that I will. I cannot stop him, Estel. I cannot stop his plans for I cannot resist him. I cannot stop him." ("For the wind. For the sun. And especially for the stars.")

And finally Strider understood. It was not for his own safety that the prince feared. But for his family. Every day that passed brought him closer to the fate which the Arandant king had condemned him. He would be his family's assassin.

*

"The men grow restless, my lord."

The man cloaked in black lounged against the back of his fur-lined chair, his long nails sliding through a blade of grass, tearing it into strips. "Why should this concern me?" He asked, not bothering to look up at the figure in his tent doorway. The man had been standing there for nearly 4 hours now, not moving save to breathe. A dark bruise adorned one thin cheek, a long, angry red scar ran down the length of the other.

But he was not one of the countless slaves that wandered mindless through the camp doing the menial chores un-befitting his men. No, he had his own free will, to a point. He had stood silently, rigidly, for so long now simply because his lord wished it. But now he was finally permitted to speak the reason he had come so long ago.

"Well, m-my lord..." The man stuttered. The dark man allowed a slow smile to form on his lips at the creatures fear. "The men, they... they are taking their restlessness out on the... on the slaves. There have been 16 deaths in the past 5 days. If... if this keeps up there... there will be no more slaves."

The dark man turned slowly to look at the being cowering in the doorway. The man flinched visibly. "As I've said... Why should this concern me?" The dark man's velvety voice was laced with annoyance. This, as many well knew, was a very dangerous thing.

"W-w-well, m-my lord... I...I... the m-men, th-they..."

"Oh, stop it." The dark man sighed, rising from his chair and slowly walking to the other side of the spacious tent. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're still useful to me." He sat down on the edge of the heavy desk and picked up a bunch of grapes with delicate fingers. When his eyes locked on the man at the door they quickly reminded him that he had better remain useful. For his own good.

"Yes, my lord. You see, if the men loose their slaves they will become... unhappy. And with all do respect, my lord, your men must stay happy. For your plans to work, my lord."

The dark man slid a plump grape past his lips and began chewing slowly. He shrugged and dropped the rest of the bunch then stood and turned to the other man. "Very well. Inform Donard that I wish to speak with him immediately."

"Y-yes, my lord." The man left the tent as quickly as possible.

The dark man scowled at his exit. Such a pity he had become so skittish already. When they became that way they became useless, for their fear of him overrode their good sense. Ah well. He was not completely gone yet. Perhaps he had enough courage left in him to wait out the training of a new 'assistant'. After that he could be given to the men. Let them take their frustrations out on something not quite as... placid as the others.

'They think of nothing but their own pleasure.' The dark man sighed, looking lazily around the enclosure. 'But on such a miniscule level. If it is slaves they want, it is slaves they will have.' A hungry glint filed his eyes and his hands curled around something that wasn't there.

'But those that serve me well will have much more than these pathetic creatures they call slaves. No. I will reward those who are loyal to me with something much... better.'

His hands twisted as if to snap a twig. His mind echoed with the glorious sound of delicate bones breaking beneath his hands. Visions of pure red blood flowing over his skin. Golden hair coming away in his grasp. And depthless blue eyes filling with tears and fear.

The royal brat was so strong. But so very close to breaking. So very close.

"My lord?" A voice asked from beyond his doorway, knocking the dark man from his visions.

"Donard. Have the men begin breaking down the camp. We leave just after dawn." The dark man ordered, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. "We leave for the Elven city."

"Yes, my lord."

A smile twisted his lips and he breathed in the scent of blood. So very close. But he would make the breaking last for as long as he wished. And he was a very patient man.

To Be Continued...

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Until next time!

Adrienne