Author: Mirrordance
Title: Return
Summary: Post-LOTR. Legolas always felt at odds with his home kingdom. Though it's King by birthright, he fled it, building a prosperous colony in Ithilien. Just when all seems well at last, great dangers in Mirkwood call for the return of THIS King home.
* * *
PART SEVEN
* * *
Eryn Lasgalen
3023
* * *
The King was looking at him with such powerful spite. It was an incredibly potent glare that wasn't outwardly hateful — that would not have shown any restraint at all, and Thranduil was always in control. No… it was a glare that was frigid, and seemed reserved only for the lowest of the scum of the world.
Torres met the gaze evenly, unwilling to show justifiable fear, or justifiable offense. He did not know that his own disconcertingly dull eyes were menacing with their own brand of inalienable danger. The two leaders stared each other down.
~This could not last,~ Thranduil finally spoke, ~You know it, as well as I. This situation will eventually be discovered by the surrounding kingdoms which we deal with, or we will eventually fight, if pushed by you. It cannot last, Torres.~
The two elves were closeted in the dungeon's anterooms. Torres and his troupe were fortunate that Mirkwood's dungeons were reasonably sizeable, and heavily fortified. All the soldiers were held in the dungeons, and the women and children were closely guarded in the great gathering halls above. Though elves were never one to easily submit, the control was carefully kept by the manipulation of the attachments of the heart. The separation of the soldiers from their families was a strategic one; If they do not follow, their family will be hurt. If the families did not follow, their soldiers will be hurt. It was the same principle by which this entire disaster was stemmed in the first place; Surrender or the King dies. And now that they had everyone in their grasp, it was relatively easy to play off one hostage by another.
Hideously outnumbered, it was only by these fragile strings did Torres keep control of the situation. But the King was right too, and he was not so great a fool to believe otherwise. It could not last. It was a cursed nightmare. He was trying to stem a flood with a twig.
~We can only move forward as much as we can,~ Torres said evenly, ~What would you have me do, my lord? The secret is out. We know we cannot be a part of your world. You will most likely either imprison us or eliminate us altogether, for it is clearly established we cannot share in living. I am predator. You are prey. It is too late. There is no turning back. We can only try to stay alive.~
~Arrangements could be made,~ Thranduil said tentatively.
~That is terribly vague,~ Torres commented.
Thranduil almost smiled; it was true. He had no idea what to do, should these Forgotten Elves suddenly surrender to him. Torres was sharp, strong, and careful. It was not a surprise how he became a leader to his ghoulish people, even though he was still young. His resolve was almost admirable, and Thranduil found himself looking upon Torres with changed eyes.
~I see that you are not ambitious,~ said Thranduil, looking at him carefully, ~You've taken my kingdom but shy upon my throne, or my crown. You are not evil either… though the control of some of your people may have slipped, yours has remained carefully intact. You've yet to make a meal out of any of your prisoners, and I've seen how you've cautioned others from doing the same. I may despise what you have done, but I might even wager and say you are a good person, pushed towards these deeds by the actions of those around you, by fate, by fear. Set us free, Torres. And no harm shall come to you. To any of you.~
Torres stared at the King. He was wise, undoubtedly. And his prying eyes missed nothing. He felt naked before the sovereign's stare. Thranduil astutely picked upon the nuances of his feelings, and while it was a relief to be understood, he knew this was not a sentiment that others of Eryn Lasgalen could share.
~You may see me thus, sire,~ said Torres, ~But your people will not be as wise. And hence this is not a promise you can make.~
~I am their King,~ said Thranduil, ~My word shall stand.~
~But I am certain we are both aware,~ said Torres, ~That you and I, king or leader, we are only ultimately their servants. As you can see… here I am, my lord, desperately trying to account for my people, salving upon the damage done by one. I do not question your power and authority, I feel it in my bones and I see it in your eyes. But I also cannot question the call of any individual's desires, and his passions. Not everyone will hold true to your command. Just as I know, not everyone will heed my orders. Not everyone has heeded my orders. You cannot promise me the forgiveness and understanding of your people, anymore than I can promise that each and everyone of my people can keep themselves from harming you and yours.
~Fate has turned us into mortal enemies, King Thranduil,~ Torres finished, ~Much as we may desire otherwise.~
* * *
It was the first time husband and wife found themselves alone since that fateful night of the new moon, when everything had changed and unfortunately changed for the worse.
The quarters that King Thranduil provided for Torres and Yasmina for the duration of their stay stank of death and blood, not having been cleaned after the vicious killing that occurred here some nights ago. Torres looked upon the bloodstained ground and the graceless state of the corpses his beloved wife had feasted upon, angry and helpless.
Yasmina was watching his face with her breath held, and his eyes drifted towards hers dangerously.
~Do you know what you've cost us, woman?~ he asked her, his tone low and dangerous. He was angry at her. Murderously angry, and also unfortunately murderously in love. He could not hurt her. He could not punish her. And he very much could not have left her to Thranduil's fatal justice. Yasmina committed a violent, unforgivable sin. And yet she could only be what she had learned to be. Did she deserve the death that was to be given her by the justifiably angry elves of Eryn Lasgalen? Perhaps not… after all, she could not help herself. But on the other hand, did she deserve Torres' protection? Was she worth everything Torres and his people were bound to pay? Perhaps not either. It seems they were fated to constantly find themselves at the periphery of both the good and the bad. They were mistakes of nature. They were never meant to walk the Earth…
~I cannot apologize,~ Yasmina said haughtily, her pride as fierce as ever. He once loved that unquenchable fire. She lit up the dark. She was a survivor, always have been. But now, her defiance, her misunderstanding of the situation… it was only succeeding in angering him all the more.
He grabbed her by the forearm, and pushed her to her knees upon the bloodied ground. The scent of the blood was teasing him. It was making him hungry. Satisfaction was so close, and so easy. But the pronounced weakness upon his body was only angering him all the more.
~Clean it,~ he told her coldly.
She looked up at him defiantly, ~No need to be so altruistic, my love. Smell it. It is not horrendous. It is beautiful. It is calling you. Only through it could you find peace. Eat. Feast. This is who we are.~
He could not pretend that the smell was not enticing. He has been so hungry for so long…
He was angry at her. Angry for being right, angry for being so brutally truthful. He was angry at himself for loving her, for wanting to protect her, from not bearing the thought of a life without her. He was angry at fate, that it made him what he was… He was just so profoundly and generally angry at everything.
He grabbed her by the hair, and pressed her face closer to the face of those she had slain.
~Clean it.~
He pushed away from her, stood up and left.
She looked after him wistfully as he walked away. But she was unrepentant. She touched the maid's face, ran her fingers down the open, bleeding throat, let them linger there until they became wet and sticky with that delectable blood. She brought her hand to her lips.
Clean it, he had said.
She smiled a little.
Why not?
Her open mouth descended upon the body.
She will clean it. Just not in the way Torres may have hoped.
* * *
Road to Eryn Lasgalen
3023
* * *
They had a troupe that numbered almost five times those of the Forgotten Elves. If Legolas wanted to show the aggressors the brutality and sheer force of their might, he was succeeding in a most stunning way.
A troupe of two-thousand men and elves, proudly wearing the colors of Gondor and Ithilien, rode across the countryside in their mighty steeds.
Legolas and Aragorn headed the column, flanked by the closest of their friends—the twin sons of Elrond, Gimli the dwarf, Haldir of Lothlorien, and the stubborn Andrada, who would not be left. The miserable Elias was kept in tow, as well as, curiously, the city planner Mical, by Legolas' orders. The valiant and loyal (not to mention profoundly displeased) Serafin was left in charge of Ithilien, as Arwen and Faramir ruled in the King's absence.
"This is an untenable situation," Legolas murmured to Aragorn beside him, "I fear over what we might find."
"I do not think they are incredibly foolish," said Aragorn reassuringly, "Your people will be kept alive. Otherwise they have no leverage at all."
"But if the hunger is so great," said Legolas, "Are considerations for such rational things as leverage even made at all?"
"They took the kingdom hostage, laddie," Gimli told him reassuringly, "Someone in there is using his head. Someone in there is worth negotiating with."
Legolas set his jaws, said nothing. But riding behind the elf, Gimli felt he calmed somewhat, even though his stance remained tense and rigid.
"They are going to hate me all the more," Legolas suddenly muttered.
"What's this maggot in your head--!" Gimli exclaimed, disbelieving. He cut himself off to gather his thoughts and his calm, "I suppose you think this is your fault."
"Partly," Legolas winced, corrected himself, "Hugely."
"Then you are hideously mistaken," Gimli declared, "Doesn't the elf have maggots in his head, Aragorn?"
The idea was strangely funny, so Aragorn jauntily looked upon the troubled elf and said, "Well. He always has."
"I gave them to ada."
"They gave themselves to him," Gimli snorted, "You just wrote the cursed letter saying so."
"You know, Legolas," said Aragorn with sham gravity, "This clever elf once told me: 'You really are conceited, Estel. The world doesn't revolve around your actions.' Do you know him?"
"Yes," Legolas replied, "he really is very clever."
"Who was that?" Gml asked.
"Me," Legolas replied shamelessly, a smile lighting up his face.
"I constantly find myself with conceited beings," Gimli reflected morosely, "This elf here. All these other elves here. And this man who's also mostly an elf."
"That means you are in very good company," Legolas commented.
Gimli frowned, "Do you mean to say the company is good? Or that I am just as conceited? Elven tongues twist in a most unnaturally subtle manner. It's all so confusing."
"I think he meant it both ways," Aragorn said.
"Well he has some nerve," Gimli declared.
Legolas chuckled quietly, and looked wistfully upon the long stretch of road that led him back to Mirkwood… back home.
They are going to hate me all the more…
"They're going to hate me," Legolas said again.
"Are you ill?' Gimli snapped, "Or have we not just had this conversation?"
"They're all going to think it is my fault," Legolas said, resigned, "Even if you may have convinced me, you are yet to convince them otherwise."
"Oh…" growled Gimli, "If I bashed their heads together, would that work?"
"I doubt it," Legolas replied with a wan smile.
"Have faith, Legolas," Aragorn told him soothingly.
"It is so much like you to say that," Legolas commented wryly.
"Trust your people to see," Aragorn advised him, "And trust that doing the right thing is enough. With or without their approval."
"I think you're always hopeful because you're always vague," Legolas teased him.
"Don't be mean, now," Aragorn said.
"Oh laddie," Gimli said to Legolas with steely resolve, "Do what you feel is right. They will think what they will. If you are still not redeemed in their eyes, they do not deserve you."
"Which is sad," said Legolas quietly, "Because I will never cease to be theirs even then. I never have."
* * *
Eryn Lasgalen
3023
* * *
They made camp at the fringes of the palace fortress. They made no secret of their arrival; as a matter of fact, they desired to be seen en masse, to give these Forgotten Elves something to think about.
The trees of Eryn Lasgalen were always thick; but one had to have been blind not to sight the gleam of the armor, and deaf not to have heard the sound of the sizeable army.
Inside one of the King's massive gathering halls, the women and children of Eryn Lasgalen made a crowd. They were loosely guarded by about twenty of Torres' men, with their keen hungry eyes just daring them to try something and to give the Forgotten Elves a reason to defy their leader's orders not to harm the people. The sights and sounds of the new arrivals were making them even edgier, their fingers poised to make ready their weapons at the slightest sign of danger.
~What's happening?~ one of the scullery maids asked a young boy who was sitting next to one of the hall's windows.
The boy glanced warily at the guards, and slowly pushed himself up to glance outside. His eyes widened, and gleamed.
~We are saved,~ he whispered, gathering attention from the other elves about them.
~Who has come?~ the maid asked.
~I saw the colors of Gondor,~ the boy replied, and paused before he added, ~And… And the Greenleaf of Ithilien.~
~Prince Legolas has returned,~ the maid breathed, and was only too eager to tell those beside her. The word spread like wildfire. There was almost a visible wave as the news was passed on exponentially. The Prince was back home.
* * *
Torres was of course, not as thrilled. He stalked from the quarters he has commandeered (wanting to be alone and to think, and not wanting to stay in the soiled quarters he shared with Yasmina), having sighted the army from the window.
He headed toward the dungeons, and stopped before the small one that held King Thranduil. He was of course, separated from the other soldiers who were miserably cramped in the other larger cells.
Torres nodded to one of his men, ~The King goes with me.~
Thranduil stared at him, hearing the new brand of tension upon his voice, ~I thought i sensed a disturbance from outside.~
~They will think twice before they act,~ Torres said, grabbing Thranduil by the forearm and dragging him from the cell.
Thranduil planted his feet on the ground, ~The game is over. Give up.~
Torres' grip tightened, and his eyes burned with his fears and anxieties, ~You will go with me.~
~I admit you had us held hostage by the strings of our hearts,~ Thranduil said loudly, wanting to be heard by his soldiers, ~But it cannot last. And your time is up. Do not be a fool.~
~And yet I cannot not be,~ Torres seethed, pulling the King towards him. He was unearthly strong, as the Forgotten Elves were under duress or at the brink of losing their fragile control.
~You must know that you are beaten!~ Thranduil pressed him, ~It was only a matter of time. The situation was never sustainable!~
~We will not be brought down so easily, or be so cowed,~ Torres said, ~I think you need some convincing of our considerable might, in our defeat though this may all end.~
The back of Torres' hand broke across time and space and caught Thranduil's face cleanly. The King's head whipped to the side, and he staggered with the rock-hard strike.
~Ada!~ someone from deeper into the crowded dungeons exclaimed.
Torres paused, narrowed his eyes in thought.
~Hold the King,~ he ordered his men, and he stepped towards the dungeons. The elven soldiers it held stared at him coldly.
~So the King is Ada to someone here, is he?~ Torres murmured, though it was so quiet his menacing voice was loud and clear in the enclosed, silent space.
~I suppose there must have been an heir somewhere,~ Torres continued, ~Other than that Lord of Ithilien, who looks like his father… Now… who could it be?~
He was met with silence.
~Hold that tongue, fool,~ The King said darkly, knowing his son would hear him, ~You will only be used against me.~
Torres turned his unwanted attention upon the King. His dainty hands tightened and clawed, and with his unnatural strength, he gripped the King's neck, winding and tightening his fingers all the more.
The King's eyes were cold and angry, and stared him down, unwilling to show his weakness. But though his spirit was undeniably strong, it was still housed in a body with its own limitations. He began to gasp for air, and his limbs flailed helplessly.
~Will the King's son appear and save ada now?~ Torres asked.
A tense silence. Decisions were being made.
~Unhand him,~ Legardo commanded, stepping forward, and gripping the cell bars in a vise that seemed to hold all of his frustrated anger.
Torres' grip did not waver, and he stared at Legardo's face for a moment, studying it. The elf did look like the King, even if he was a less handsome face, they held the same fire.
Torres released the King, who fell to hiss knees upon the hard ground, coughing and trying to regain his breath.
~Take the son,~ Torres commanded of his men, ~He and the King shall be held separately from the others.~ To Thranduil, he said, ~I will have your cooperation, this time. Else the son pays.~
Legardo immediately headed to his father's side upon his release. He held the King's shoulders. They've not touched each other since Legardo's crimes were discovered and he was disowned years and years ago.
~That wasn't very wise of you,~ Thranduil said in a coarse voice. His tone was disapproving, but through his eyes, Legardo knew he was feeling the same warmth of their long-missed touch.
~Even when I try to save you I am criticized,~ Legardo said wryly.
* * *
Legolas stood before the main gate with Gimli, Aragorn, Haldir, Elladan and Elrohir, and Elias as well.
~Torres!~ he called out, ~Speak for your people!~
Even as close to the palace as they were, the army has not run into any of the Forgotten Elves at all. It was perfectly reasonable given the circumstances; there was very little of them and hence were concentrated to the defense of the confines of the palace itself. But though it means they have been lucky not to have needed to fight just yet, it also meant that the concentration of the elves in the palace made it mightily fortified.
The main gates opened, and Torres did indeed appear. Behind him were four of his people, garbed in Mirkwood armor. They were holding a struggling Legardo.
~I am here,~ said Torres, ~What do you want?~
~You know what I want,~ Legolas said, ~Free them. This is not your land to conquer.~
~I am left with no choice,~ Torres said, ~I can only either conquer this world, or be eliminated by it. What would you do, golden prince?~
~Arrangements could be made,~ Legolas said quickly.
Torres barked a menacing laugh, ~You sound just like your father.~
Legolas' eyes turned steely and cold, and he said nothing as he stared upon Torres. He didn't need to. The glare spoke volumes.
~Oh yes, he lives,~ Torres said replying to the unspoken question, ~Truly he does. Ask your brother.~
Legolas met Legardo's eyes. His younger brother seemed well and unharmed.
~I will take your word for it,~ Legolas said.
Torres nodded to Elias, ~I suppose the old lecher told you at last what we are.~
~He has,~ Legolas replied.
~We cannot be anymore than that,~ Torres told him, ~Much as we may want to. I think we are all learning this the hard way.~
~Everything is a matter of the will,~ Legolas said sternly.
~Oh is it?~ murmured Torres thoughtfully, ~I will tell you what happened inside, my lord. The hunger is dreadfully persistent. My will held, yes. But I still feel the profound need inside of me. It is part of who I am. The hunger is as much a part of me as my will is. It shall not leave. Ever. And you know what that results in? One of my people broke, and ate a few of yours. Your soldiers caught her, and aimed their arrows so that they may kill her. I cannot blame you for wanting my people dead, anymore than you can blame us for wanting to eat you. We are all just trying to survive here, and to protect our way of life. Sad and tragic as it may all seem, it is merely a fact of existence that my survival depends upon your death, and your survival depends upon my death. There is nothing else to be done. I've told your ada, and I am telling you: Fate has made us into mortal enemies.~
~I can bring the world over your head,~ Legolas told him sternly, ~You know you cannot win.~
~I know,~ Torres conceded, ~Then again, you cannot fight, could you? Dear ada is in my clutches after all. And your brother too. And your people.~
~One way or another,~ said Legolas, ~This will not last. What then if I held my forces and left you to be? We can all live in peace? Or perhaps I might as well just attack you, even at the risk of their deaths because if I left them with you, they are as good as dead, as good as your cursed meals anyway. What would you have me do, Torres? What is it that you want?~
~I want to live,~ Torres said wryly, ~Ironically, it is all that simple. It is all that we've ever desired.~
~It can be done,~ Legolas insisted, ~Perhaps all your people need is time, time to return to how our kin was meant to be. You will not be punished if you surrender now and never hurt any of us again. I swear it on my name.~
~I would love to see all the rest of your people swear,~ Torres said, ~and live by it. But there is no deal here. Because I know for a certainty that the other end of this deal is not my promise to make. Can we be anything else other than what we are? If I told you, my lord, that I will keep your people alive if you never ate, can it be done?~
~Then what would you have me do?~ Legolas asked him, ~Name it.~
~I do not know,~ Torres admitted, ~I do not know. All that I know is of the present, of the here and now. If you do not attack us, I will endeavor to keep your people alive.~
~It does not sound like much of a promise,~ Legolas seethed.
~Then look at it the other way around,~ Torres told him coldly, ~Do not doubt the promise upon the other side of the coin: Make a move towards the palace, and your kingdom is going to be the Forgotten Elves' last meal in this Earth. Mark my word.~
Torres turned his back upon Legolas, and he and his entourage returned to the confines of the palace fortress. The gates swung close.
But Legolas already had some other plan.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Original Character Guide:
Lesandro was the much-beloved heir to Mirkwood and Legolas' older brother, until he was murdered in the 2800's.
Legardo is Legolas' younger brother, and was the murderer of Lesandro, as Legolas finds out in "Exile." He tries to kill Legolas too, but fails and is imprisoned.
Lord Sala is the cowardly but opportunistic Mirkwood politician who tried to take the throne from King Thranduil by accusing Legolas of Lesandro's murder.
Lady Andrada is an old elf woman who fell in love with Thranduil but staged her own death to escape her unreturned love and subsequent despair in Mirkwood. She staged Legolas' death as well, to keep him from being a pawn in Sala's ambitions.
Serafin is the loyal Mirkwood soldier who follows Legolas to Ithilien. He makes his debut in "Return."
Esse and Mical are Mirkwood brothers and eccentric geniuses who followed Legolas to Ithilien, also introduced in "Return." Esse is the Royal Gardener and Mical is the Royal City Planner.
Elias – one of the Forgotten elves, the first one whom Legolas and company find.
Torres – the leader of the Forgotten elves
Yasmina – Torres' beloved wife, also one of the Forgotten elves
SOME NOTES, REPLIES AND THANKS
MASSIVE THANKS TO MY REVIEWERS: Konzen, MSL, Sodalite, Stoneage Woman, Starlit Hope, Insanechildfanfic, Tychen, Linaeve, Dragonfly, LOTRFaith, Platy, Gwyn, Kit Cloudkicker and Elessar*Lover.
To LOTRFaith: Actually, they were inspired by vampires. Now I'm not entirely sure what they are, haha. Originally, I planned that this would have twenty chapters (I think it's really rather plain to see by now that I'm an obsessive compulsive, haha…), just like "Exile" and "Escape." But I guess the pacing was different and I couldn't seem to 'cut up' my fic into as many parts. Maybe ten parts in all, perhaps slightly more, but I have a penchant for 'round' numbers. We'll see :) I might go for twenty, but it seems bleak, as I already have the end in sight and am just at part eight :)
To Linaeve: Ah, the mausoleum exit. It made its debut in "Exile" and it leads up to Lesandro's old room. It would not have been accessible to the King and many other elves during the time the kingdom was taken and hence, was not used. And of course, a lot of the members of the kingdom did not know of it, because it was supposedly a secret passageway. But it will be very much used in the coming parts :)
To Stoneage Woman: First off, your feeling about the amends thing is right on the mark, which I'm sure you'll see when I post the next few chapters. And I would love to make time for your works. First, because you've given me much of yours and second, because I'm certain it will reflect the kind of quality you help to bring out in me :)
To Konzen: Whew! That's a relief (that you aren't hungry for people I mean), haha. Thanks for reviewing and I hope this next course will be a bit more filling :)
THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO TOOK THE TIME TO READ!!! 'Til the next post!!!
