Hmmm... that's odd. I got significantly less reviews for chapter 2 than I usually do. Don't get me wrong I'm ecstatic, and down right grateful, that I get even one. It's just... odd. Oh well.

"Lingering Shadows"

Chapter 3 - Betrayer

Legolas walked through a dream--one unlike any he had been through before. He tread the paths of his palace home but it was different; it was colder, darker. The colors were muted, as if a thick mist had settled over the palace grounds.

As he walked he began to hear voices. They sounded familiar but were muted as well. He walked around another corner and found himself in the courtyard. He gasped in surprise when he saw the people that belonged to the voices. And suddenly he remembered what he was seeing.

His father stood--tall and regal in long blue robes--watching as a line of warriors slowly walked through the gates. They were returning from a long battle with the orcs in the Misty Mountains. Beside the king he saw himself, just barely grown, staring at the slow procession.

"You must learn, Legolas, of the truth of battle." His father said solemnly. The king placed a hand on his son's shoulder and guided him to the first of those that had entered. Two warriors, exhausted and dirty, slowly lowered a makeshift cot to the ground. One of the palace healers quickly rushed to the wounded Elf's side.

The young Legolas watched wide-eyed as his father walked over to the two standing elves. The king leaned in to the first of the weary soldiers smiling encouragingly. He whispered soft words to the Elf and laid a comforting hand on his sagging shoulder. The Elf nodded solemnly, but a smile crept slowly over his face. Thranduil turned to the other and did the same, his calming voice and soft smile taking the horror from the warrior's eyes. Then the two soldiers turned and began to walk away slowly, dismissed by their lord to gain some hard-earned rest.

The young Legolas watched them make their way to the palace barracks. The Legolas that watched from the shadows of the nearby trees cringed, staring down at his feet as he waited for what he knew would come.

A loud scream drew the attention of both to the cot on the ground. The young Legolas's faced paled as he walked over to the cot at his father's command. He knelt beside the fallen soldier, bright blue eyes locked on his blood-smeared face.

"Will he die?" Legolas asked, his voice shaking.

Thranduil watched the wounded Elf as the healer pulled bottles and herbs from his pack. His long, slender hand--royal rings glistening in the dying sunlight--ran soothingly through the warriors bloody hair. "I do not know, ion nin." The warrior looked up at his king, trying to smile past the pain. (..., my son.")

Legolas looked at the wounded body. His innocent eyes took in the bloody garments and glanced over the bone that showed through the skin of his wounded side. A muscle twitched across his chest and the Elf tried to muffle the scream that followed. Legolas could hear other wounded soldiers behind him as the procession continued to make its way into the courtyard.

Ear-piercing screams rang through his head, echoing against his skull. The healthy stood by them, assisting the healers. Strong warriors, warriors he had watched in the practice fields, warriors that had lived for thousands of years. They were screaming, crying, dying.

Thranduil looked up at his young son. A look of sadness washed over his noble face at the sight of the innocence that would soon be lost.

"You must learn, little leaf," he said as he stood, his hand slipping away from the now-unconscious warrior. "so that you may better understand when it comes to your time to fight. When you must suffer such things."

The Legolas in the trees, the grown and seasoned warrior who had seen all of these things, watched his young self begin to shake as he took in the horror around him. He remembered that day; he would always remember that day. He had remembered that day every time he had gone into a battle. Every time he had fought beside soldiers that never returned to the palace. Every time he had heard the dying scream of a warrior thousands of years older than he.

The older Legolas's eyes returned to his father, pulled away from the terrors in his memories; memories that had not yet happened to the child in front of him. He had thought himself so old that day--before the warriors had returned.

"Go, ion. Return to your studies." Thranduil said. Then he watched as his son--just a child barely grown--walked away, closely followed by his personal guard. (... , son.)

The Legolas in the trees watched his father walk away to speak with the rest of the returning warriors, then his dream began to fade away.

**

Legolas had never woken up disoriented before. He had always prided himself on his ability to wake alert and ready for anything. But now it felt as if all his senses had been submerged in a swamp.

His eyes were clouded in shrouds of gray in which nothing but fuzzy shadows got through; his ears seemed clogged so he could hear nothing. He tried to stand but found that he couldn't and had to suppress the panic that rose in his chest. He lay still, taking in deep breaths to slow his rapidly beating heart. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that it was not a damaged body that had kept him from moving but the ropes around his wrists and ankles.

No problem, he thought with an inward smile. Avarilas had taught him how to get out of the best of bindings. But first, who had done this to him and were they still there? It was no use escaping only to be caught again.

But he could barely remember the events leading up to his current situation. He remembered waking uneasily; remembered the trees that had spoken of danger. Well, yes, that was obvious. He remembered Traice asking if there were spiders and... Traice!

And everything came rushing back. The Men, their threat, then the darkness. Where was his friend? They had captured Traice but they said they only wanted him. Had they let him go? Or was he nearby, trapped as he was?

Suddenly caution was thrown to the wind and he began to struggle against his bonds, slipping and twisting his wrists until the ropes came slowly undone.

Silently lamenting the loss of his heightened senses, he put his ear to the ground and listened for the sounds of approaching feet as he struggled. He had just gotten his wrists free of the coarse ropes when he heard the vibrations. Someone was approaching quickly; he rolled to the side, just barely missing the harsh kick from the man's boot.

Legolas twisted again, pushing himself up onto his knees and struck out blindly at his assailant. His fist collided with a well muscled frame that he saw as a dark shadow against more dark shadows. He heard a muffled shout and felt through his knees the vibrations of many people running.

He lurched away from the man that still stood in front of him and started pulling at the rope around his ankles. The man approached him again and he kicked out, sending both feet into his gut, spinning away. As he struggled with the ropes his vision began to clear and he could just barely make out the men that were surrounding him; and the green blur of the forest far to his right. They had traveled far while he was drugged.

Another man grabbed him from behind and he snapped his head back, his skull connecting with the man's face. He heard the crunch of bone and the man's curse. The rope around his ankles was slowly coming undone... but it was too late.

More men than he could see descended on him at the same time and he was pinned to the ground, struggling wildly against their hold. His rapidly-clearing eyes saw the iron chains that one man held right before he pulled his arms behind him and locked them around his wrists. The loosened rope around his ankles was pulled away and another set of chains locked around his feet.

He cursed in elvish, still struggling against the men that held him down. "Le caro ú garo i gorn an thîr nin sui adanath!" He cursed them as they pulled him to his feet. ("You do not have the courage to face me like men!")

One man growled and backhanded him, snapping his head to the side. "Keep your filthy tongue inside you head, vermin. And don't speak that filthy language around me."

Legolas looked up at the man, his cheek burning from the blow. He struggled uselessly against the men that held him. "Where is my friend?" The prince demanded. "What have you done with him?"

"Traice? Oh, he's quite alright." The man said, smiling too sweetly. He was missing his two front teeth.

"Why do you keep him? Your captain said it was me you wanted." Legolas asked, his eyes darted around the men and looked passed them to the surrounding area. He couldn't see his friend. "I demand that you release him."

The man's eyes narrowed and he slapped Legolas again. Spots flashed before the Elf's eyes and he could taste blood in his mouth when he looked back at the man. "You are in no position to be making demands, little elf." The man said, grabbing him roughly by the chin. "But you needn't worry. We'll let your friend go."

With this all the men erupted into laughter. Legolas's eyes darted around at all of them, wondering what they found so funny. The man that had slapped him, still laughing, pointed behind them and the men holding Legolas turned him around so that he could see the approach of two horses and their riders.

"Traice." The Elf whispered, relief washing over him when he saw the second rider's face. The man on the other horse was the same one that had spoken to him the day before.

"Ah, I see our little elfling has woken up--and started trouble already. Good." The dark man's oily voice sent chills down Legolas's spine.

"Mellon nin, garo le harn?" Legolas asked when Traice looked down at him. ("My friend, have you [been] hurt?")

The Man did not reply. He merely stared down at the bound Elf, a look of indifference in his eyes. "Mellon nin?" Legolas questioned again. The relief in his eyes was replaced by worry.

The man beside Traice smiled; his eyes did not leave the prince's face. "You have done well, captain. Her Majesty will be please with her prize."

Legolas's eyes widened and his jaw fell open in surprise when his best friend nodded in acknowledgement to the man's praise. Traice looked down on his 'friend', waiting for his reaction.

This arrogant prince had brought him into his home, his confidences. And all along he had meant to betray him. The Man expected pain, grief, even tears. The prince had been betrayed by his dearest friend. For three years now he had been second best to this creature, and now he would revel in his defeat. But the reaction he received was far from what he expected.

What he got was anger. An anger so fierce and so sudden that it took his breath away. The shock in the prince's face disappeared and burning rage filled his eyes. His dark lips curled back in a snarl and he lunged at the horse that the human sat on.

"Le gwuar uluun! Le innas anno an sen le coll orch!" Legolas shouted as the men pulled him back. He struggled against them, trying to get to the man that had been his dearest friend. One of the men struck him across the face and another punched him in the stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. He doubled over in pain. ("You filthy creature! You will pay for this you worthless orc!")

"Enough!" Their leader shouted. Immediately the men backed off, but did not release the raging prince. He stared up at Traice from bruised eyes, fire burning in his heart. His ragged breathes came out in icy gasps, small puffs of cloud floating to the sky.

"Gwarth." He hissed up at the man. "Le gwann enni." He spit at the man, bloody saliva landing at the feet of the horse. The animal whinnied and danced away in fear. Traice looked down at the struggling Elf, then he kicked his horses sides and sped away, back the way he had come. ("Betrayer." "You [are] dead to me.")

"Now, elfling," The dark leader said, turning his horse towards the prince. "It's high time you were brought to your new queen." Legolas did not answer. He just stared at the disappearing form of his dearest friend and worst betrayer.

To Be Continued...

Just FYI, Tolkien made it very difficult to cuss someone out in elvish. There are very few angry words in his lovely language. I mean seriously... what's an angry elf to say if there are not angry words?

Until next time!

Adrienne

To my lovely and boundlessly appreciated reviewers -

Twin - Well, I'm glad you understand now. And as you can see you were totally right. And no, I have not gotten that far in Cassia's series so I cannot say whether or not this story will be like hers. Were I to judge by the title though, probably. As for the rating, it is still PG-13. If I feel (or if anyone else feels) that it warrants a higher rating in future chapters I will change it. But for now it stands.

ElvenRanger13 - Okay.

terra's heart - Yeah. I appreciate canon to a point. But sometimes it's quite alright to go beyond. That's why it's fanfiction and not published.

lolly pop3 - You bet. This is where all the hatred of men originated.

MelanyeBaggins - Now see, you spoke too soon. IT was all an act on Traice's part. Right up til the end. Stupid human.

Deana - Well, it's good to know that someone out there is listening to my inane ramblings. :)

bailey - Well, he survived. Don't know if you want him to anymore...

LegolasLover2003 - You were right. Traice is a bad bad man.

candidus-lupus-full Moon - www. jrrvf. com/ hisweloke/ sindar/ . Use that address, minus the spaces, and it will take you to a Sindarin dictionary (it's the one I use for my translations). White and werewolf are both there. I'd just give you the translations, but there are eight different words for white. That's cool though. I like it in Latin.

Coolio02 - How 'bout now? You still like them? *grins* Aren't I evil?

Elven Kitten - I agree.

Aranna Undomiel - Hey, no problem. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I re-read the chapter, and I'm not sure I see what you saw. Perhaps I'm being biased though. I hope this one was better.

Estel Elven Enchantress - He's a prnce, he;s alowd to be cocky. However, you were right. So you go ahead and rub his pretty little nose in that. *grins*

mIzXxXmALfoY - Thank you!

Templa Otmena - One, I agree with the Aragorn thing. I miss him already! And yes *hands you my OC* Rip away, love!

Alariel - Thank you!