The Sword of Helce

Summary: Legolas longed for independence. Figwit wanted to prove himself. Estel was running. Nalia needed all of them dead. Four lives collide and none will survive unless they can learn to trust each other.

Disclaimer: Come on, you all know that I don't own anything. If I did, you'd be reading my stuff out of books you buy in the store. I'd be rich. Sadly I am not, and am just writing all of this for the fun of it. The only things I own from the story are the things that you wont find in any of Tolkien's books or Jackson's films. The rest of it, I'm merely borrowing.

Rating: No smut! I assure you. The R rating is only because of some violence, some of which, involves a child.

Note: This can be looked at as a Mary Sue, but I have done my best to make her different from a lot of the female characters I've read of. Just give the story a try, and if you don't like it, or her, by all means, stop, no hard feelings.

Though I will warn you, since in the books there is no mention as to how old Legolas actually is, (he's only said to be 2931 in the movie) I have made him quite a bit younger. I always thought, that from the second he and Aragorn appeared together in the first of the movies, that Legolas seemed younger than our favourite ranger, and that Aragorn was somewhat protective and fatherly to him. I wanted to delve into that, so here's my attempt. Sorry to everyone who doesn't like this idea, but hey, why not, right? This is fan fiction, let our imaginations roam free. Enjoy..

Prologue -

He soared through the darkening woods, feeling that she was catching up to him. Faleedion knew that he didn't have much time left and as the moon rose to it's peak over the trees of Greenwood, he felt his heart beating almost right through his chest. Taking in the largest inhale he could manage, he continued, refusing to give up now. Not when he was this close. Not even his torn and battered body, though it was slowing him down, would cause him to falter. He sighed, as he heard her call after him, promising him death.

"Kill me if you wish" he whispered back, as he clung the precious treasure he had wrapped in a wool cloth tightly to his chest. "But I won't let you win.." his voice trailed off, as he stumbled over a long and twisted root that was wedging out of the grassy floor. It was too dark for his emerald green eyes to see very far around him, but he continued on, struggling to get back to his feet again before she could catch up to him.

He'd been running for just over an hour when to his pleasant surprise his destination came into view. The enchanted river of Greenwood. The river that no living creature dared touch, for fear of the consequences. It's fluid was fatal. Putting whomever it came into contact with under an everlasting slumber, never to again awaken. He felt a smile forming on his lips as he let himself fall to his knees on the edge of flowing mystical water.

As he looked over his shoulder, he could see nothing but trees. The wind was whistling, and sending a warning down his spine to his very core. She was close. Too close, and so without another thought he went to work. Picking up small jagged rock from the ground beside him, as he unfolded his burden in front of him from the cloth.

The mere sight of the blade was enough to make even the strongest of persons speechless in awe of it's beauty. Hand carved metal with intricate designs of a rare known script, that few could understand, and even fewer knew of. The handle of this prize was detached, but even incomplete, the wonder of it was unsurpassed. Faleedion took in a deep breath, as he picked up the shards of the broken blade, as well as the stone. Looking up to the midnight sky, he prayed. Prayed to Illuvitar himself for forgiveness for what he was about to do. It was the only way to prevent great destruction. The only way.

As quickly as he could, out of dire need to complete his task before he was caught, and to rid himself the threat of changing his mind, Faleedion took the rock to the blade, an inch of two below the tip. The clanging was deafening, and it seemed as though the blade came alive and was screaming in pain from what the man was doing. But he continued. And after minutes of sweat, panic and pounding, the small tip of the blade fell to the ground.

Faleedion was spent. The small task of breaking the sword had been a much more exhausting tirade than he had expected. But at least now it was done. The world would not be brought down this night, he had made sure of that. He remained still after he was done. Looking down at the little object that now lay in the palm of his hand. Tempting it was, to keep it. Or to offer it up to Mavalen in exchange for his pitiful life. The thought even lingered in his mind for a few moments as the sounds of footsteps echoed in his ears, coming from behind him, getting closer.

"May Illuvitar guide your path, as mine has been" he said to the small triangular shaped object, as he reached out his hand, over the quiet river. And after taking one last deep breath, Faleedion turned over his hand, and allowed the small trinket to fall into the perilous river leading to a place unknown, by him, and if fate was kind, by any other living soul.

"You fool!"

The cold voice spat from behind him, as he froze and closed his eyes. He knew that he was caught, and there was no escape now. This was proven even more correct, as vicious hands grabbed his shoulders and spun him around violently, so that he now faced Mavalen and the six orcs that served under her command.

"Did you honestly think that I would allow you to escape so easily? And with the object of my life's work, which you stole?" she questioned again, as she bent down in front of him so that her icy eyes met his. Fortunately for Faleedion, his eyes betrayed the terror he felt upon coming face to face with this being, and this only angered her more. She wanted him to be afraid. She wanted all the world to know her name and fear it.

"It is over, Mavalen" Faleedion responded, as the orcs tied his hands behind his back with the coiled rope they brought with them. "You and the rest of Sauron's pawns will be brought down, just as he was. A new age has begun, evil will not withstand any longer."

Mavalen laughed spitefully at the man knelt down before her, as she picked up the blade still wrapped in the cloth that was beside her captive. This man was a bigger fool than she had originally thought him to be. "Sauron will return, of that you can be assured" she began, rather casually. "Isildur made that certain when he resigned to his own greed. It is you, and the rest of this world that will not withstand his wrath, when he reclaims his power. And I, will hold reign over his pawns as you call them, until that day. We, will be wait for him. Patience is a virtue, little human, and lucky for me, I was gifted with great patience."

It was Faleedion's turn to laugh, as he shook his head at her. "You look for power where there is none, enchantress. Holding reign over a band of orcs and evil men is nothing short of pitiful. Your only hope at being any type of a threat died when Oropher found the hilt."

He earned himself a slap, hard across the face from Mavalen as she came upon again, causing her pungent breath to sicken him. "Oropher is gone. I ended his life in battle, and I will end the life of his son when opportunity comes. I will destroy that line of kings, and take back what they stole from me."

"They can't be broken, nor will they allow you to have what was never intended to belong to you, witch. Thranduil watched his father die at your hand, and swore that you would pay for what you did. A war that you started with him and all of the woodland elves, began in that battlefield. A war in which Thranduil has no intention of losing to you. Elves are known for their patience as well, but I wouldn't be surprised if he has already had the hilt destroyed."

The thought of this had already crossed her mind, that the new king of Greenwood would destroy that which he now had in his possession. The hilt of the Sword of Helce. The weapon that she needed to keep the dangerous tales stringed to her name until her master returned. An elven priest had found the hilt, and Oropher had placed it in his keeping, the day before the Battle of the Last Alliance. Mavalen had taken him down during that very fight, hoping that he would have brought it, and it was then that Thranduil learned of her need for it, especially now, that Sauron was gone. It was then, that he swore that she would never claim it from his halls, not while he, or any in his bloodline lived.

"We shall se about that" she answered, trying to keep her worry invisible to each of her companions. She stood again, and kept the blade close to her. She had claimed one half of the sword, and now all she needed was the hilt. She knew where it was, and assured herself that in time, and with good planning, it would be hers. "Kill him" she ordered as she stood once more and turned away, smiling as she opened up the package she held.

Her smile faded fast when she saw what had been done to her prize. The tip of the blade had been severed, and immediately she understood why, Faleedion didn't seem to fight her as she took the blade from him. He'd purposely damaged it. She had to admire him for his nerve, but unfortunately for him, his actions had inconvenienced her. That could not, and would not be tolerated. She turned back to where her minions had Faleedion on his back, despite his bound hands behind him. She saw that he had a sword penetrating from his abdomen, which caused her eyebrows to raise. He hadn't made a sound. Impressive.

"What did you do with it?" she growled as she stood over him, ushering for the foul creatures to back away from the man they had just been ordered to kill. Faleedion was alive, barely, and looked up at her, smiling, unaware of the fact that a trail of blood streamed out of the corner of his mouth. The pain of his injury was agonizing, and he knew it was fatal, but regardless, he forced himself not to let this moment slip away from him.

"Answer me, you filth" she shouted as she gripped the handle of the weapon, half through his body.

"It's out of your reach" he answered through gasps for air that was refusing to enter his failing lungs.

Mavalen hissed as she pushed the blade further into Faleedion's chest, causing a muffed gasp to escape his lips. His eyes were glazing over. She knew he wouldn't tell her what he'd done with it, and now only wished to see him suffer for the last few moments he breathed the air of this world.

"You think you have won, Faleedion, but you are wrong" she assured him with a calm tone in her voice, promising each syllable of what she spoke. "I have the blade. All I need is for someone to pick up, that which you hid, and I will know where it is. Such work you did, and all will be in vane. Someone will find it, maybe not myself or these fools here. But someone will. I promise you, and when they do, I will track them down, and kill them. I will take what you have stolen and I will have my revenge."

Faleedion shook his head, as best he could. He knew she was right, but he prayed that by dropping the piece of metal in the Enchanted River, that it would be impossible for anyone to pick it up, without damning themselves. He forced himself to believe that the Valar would guild it's path, as he hoped. "No one will find it" he spoke with force and venom, before he chocked on the blood that was rising in his throat, and his life came to an end.

Mavalen looked down at his lifeless body and grinned, letting a faint laugh leave her ruby red lips. "In time, someone will. And I told you, I'm patient. Very patient."

Chapter 1 The Beginning -

"Figwit, you were suppose to be watching him!" Thranduil bellowed to the newest of his trainees. The raven haired elf had been brought up in Rivendell, under the guidance of Lord Elrond, and had traveled to the forest, known now, as Mirkwood, to start a new life as one of the elven king's guards. Figwit had excelled in all aspects of combat, and strategy, but though Thranduil trusted Figwit's loyalty, he needed proof that he could handle pressure. So he did to him, what he had started to do with a lot of his army's newest trusted recruits. He assigned them a babysitting job.

The king of Mirkwood had five children. His eldest, the crown prince of his country, named Landuil, who was as mighty and noble as his father. There was also Olion, second oldest, and also Armeniel and Galwen, the twin princesses, who were said to rival even Galadriel and Lady Arwen in their beauty. All were excellent scholars and gifted in more ways than could be counted. To Figwit's dismay, the child that he was instructed to keep an eye on for the afternoon, was in fact the only heir to Mirkwood, that was actually a child.

Legolas, the youngest, and most strong willed of the royal siblings. Every parent's nightmare and at the same time, dream child. He was the only of Thranduil's children to inherit his father's golden hair, and blue eyes. An adorable child he was, but it was all a façade, hiding the stubborn bull that lived inside. Legolas was forced to live a sheltered life for each of his sixteen years, and though he looked the age of a twelve year old human boy, he had more wit and knowledge than most that were double his age.

He also had a knack for disappearing.

"My lord," Figwit tried, feeling his entire body shaking as he stood before the entire royal family, who wanted answers to where the lost prince was at the moment. "I was watching him, I swear it. He just disappeared. I had brought him out to the lake for a swim, and I turned for him to change, and when I turned around again, he was gone…"

"Did you check the water?" Armeniel questioned in a slight panic. She was always to closest one in the family to Legolas and was very protective of him. Her and Landuil would spend an hour every night, reading their brother to sleep, and she was the one whose bed the boy would run to, when a thunderstorm erupted, or a monster had managed to get back into his closet. Legolas was very precious to her, and the thought that something may have happened to him, frightened her. She and her other siblings hated that their father would allow Legolas to be watched by someone who didn't know him. They were worried that something like this, might happen.

"Yes, My lady" Figwit assured quickly. "I swam every inch of the pond, he was not in there. I fear he may have taken off into the woods by way of the trees. I wasn't able to track him very far."

"No, you wouldn't be able to. Legolas is almost one with the trees" Olion spoke up as he turned to his father, who had his face in his hands. Thranduil realized now that he should have taken his children's advice, especially knowing that Legolas liked to wonder off. He wanted to blame Figwit, and he probably would have, if not for the memory of the time the same thing had happened to himself a few months back. "Adar, we should send out riders. Have them search the woods. We must find him before it gets dark. Legolas won't survive out there, alone at night. Not in these times."

What he said was dark, but true. Thranduil nodded. He'd die before he let the last gift, he'd been granted by his darling wife before she sailed west, to be lost to some spider or roaming orc. They had to find him. "Figwit, you said that you last saw him by the swimming hole?" Figwit nodded, feeling terribly guilty. "Fine, then that is where the search parties will start. I want Legolas home in time for dinner, is that understood?" he spoke to Landuil and Olion, who nodded, and exited the king's chambers.

"Sire, what would you have me do?" asked Figwit, wanting more than anything, just to aid the royal family in their time of need. Thranduil looked up to the elf before him, his gaze softening. He shouldn't have put such a please striving elf on mission of keeping an eye on the youngest prince, he knew that now. He was too inexperienced yet to care for a child.

"Nothing, Figwit, you have done enough."

The king's words were not meant with the venom in which they were heard. Thranduil only meant that Figwit was stressing, and blaming himself. And as Thranduil stood, to leave the room, he missed the expression of pure torment come over the new guard's face. Figwit felt horrible. He had failed on his first real duty, and now he was quite possibly the reason for the young prince's ill fate. His head fell to his chest, as he took in a deep breath.

Seeing that Figwit reacted wrongly to her father's words, Galwen walked over to his side, while her sister followed after their father. She approached the solemn elf and placed a hand upon his shoulder, hoping he would meet her eyes. He slowly did what she wanted, and managed to meet her gaze.

"My brother will return to us," she assured, sensing his guilt over what had happened. "None of this is your fault. We should have warned you about his wandering tendency. When he is home, I will send him to your chambers to apologize for all of this."

Figwit shook his head, and took a step back from the princess, as he straightened his posture and put up a hard expression. "NO, my lady. There will be no need. I will find your brother. I will make sure he returns safely to you, like I swore to your father this morning. Legolas was my charge. My responsibility, and I will honour it." He finished as he bowed his head and made for the door opposite to the one the king had gone through.

Galwen watched him go, and felt her heart go out for him. There was another reason now added to why she prayed for her brother's safe homecoming. For she knew deep down that if anything happened to Legolas now, that Figwit would never forgive himself, even if it wasn't his fault.

"Valar, watch over them both" she whispered.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As he opened his eyes, the sunlight streaming through the branches of the tree he slept on, stung them. With a slight moan, the man put up his hands to block the light as he cleared his head, and adjusted himself to being awake again. It was a new day, and though he had slept in a little longer than he would have wished, Aragorn was glad that a new day brought a welcoming warmness. Yesterday had been gruelling, and a hard ride for both he and his mount. He'd been tracked by a ravage group of orcs when he first entered the forest, and it had taken him nearly all day to lose them. That had come into account when choosing his sleeping arrangements that night.

The young ranger wasn't certain why there was such a large number of those foul creatures roaming so close to the palace of Thranduil, which was his destination. Not one of his choosing, being how Thranduil wasn't very fond of those of the human race, but Gandalf had said to meet him there. Why? He didn't know, but he had started to realize, that with the grey wizard, you were never going to get a straight answer. He found it a lot easier to just listen and trust that the Istar knew what he was doing.

With another yawn, Aragorn leapt down from the flet he'd created for the night, with a slight stumble. He chuckled to himself as he nearly fell over, praising the Valar that no one had seen. He knew from experience that if his foster brothers had witnessed the fumble, he'd be listening to their taunts all day long, about his human weaknesses.

With a start, he immediately shook the thoughts away. No, he couldn't think about them as his brothers anymore. They had made it very clear that they no longer thought of him as their family, when he had confessed to them about his feelings for Arwen several years ago. The two had met in Lorien, and both were immediately drawn to one another, as if fate had intertwined their souls, and had intended for them to meet at exactly the moment they locked eyes in the Golden Wood.

Aragorn could understand why Lord Elrond and his twin sons were saddened, and even upset by the romance. The cost of Arwen's love for him, would cost her, her immortality, her family, and everything that she was up until that point. Aragorn didn't want any of them to suffer loosing one another, and had made the decision to leave Imladris right away, joining the rangers, and disappearing into the wild. He couldn't bare to see the hurt in their faces, and he missed them too much to be around them, if things were never going to be the same as they were. He was doomed, and the last thing he wanted was to bring down the people he cared about with him.

That was nearly fifteen years ago, but still, no amount of time could take away the hurt of losing the people he loved. In truth, he was lonely, and though the rangers brought a sense of family, Aragorn longed for something else. A meaning in this world. A friend. A real friend. A purpose, other than the one he was afraid to face.

"Are you hungry mellon nin?" he spoke quietly to the deep grey steed that appeared to his left, as he stroked his mane with care. The animal nodded his head, and Aragorn found himself smiling. "Alright, let us find something" he continued, as he started to walk in the direction of the stream he'd seen the night before, unaware of the future that fate had in mind for him, that would begin this very day.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She almost wanted to leap for joy. Despite the sorrow that the people she had seen feeling, and despite the pang of sympathy she felt for them, Nalia could not believe the good fortune this whole situation had given her. The young prince of Mirkwood being missing had caused many of the palace guards to leave their regular posts, joining search parties that were determined to bring home the youngster as soon as possible. This meant that her being able to sneak into the palace walls, and steal what she was sent for, had been made a whole lot easier. She wanted to smile, but she couldn't. She had never had any family, and the sight of Thranduil and his two daughters, frantic in worry about the smallest of their inner clan, tore at her heart. She thought about what she may have felt like if she were in their shoes. But Nalia found that task difficult. For she could not imagine having to care about someone other than herself.

All of her life, until before she could remember, Nalia had only herself to worry about. She was one of the Faye. A mystical race of creatures that were rare, and mostly unheard of by the other creatures of Middle Earth. Some could compare her to that of a fairy, for they looked quite a bit alike when in their natural form. Tiny as a human's thumb, with wings, and brightly coloured hair. However, Nalia was different. Her wings had been taken, and she was now doomed to serve the one who had taken them. It was the price she had to pay in order to gain her freedom.

No longer could the once free spirited Faye, fly freely across the land. She had lost that ability when she'd been taken captive seven years ago, by an evil woman of great power. A woman that had taken her wings, and in exchange for them back, Nalia had to offer her, her complete obedience and loyalty. Doing the enchantress' bidding had become her life, and Nalia was so close to being able to be free again. All she had to do was deliver the hilt, and Mavalen would give her back her wings, and with that came her control over her own life. Yes, it was simple. She could do this.

Not being able to shrink to her small size is what annoyed Nalia more than anything. Being human sized felt unnatural to her, and she swore, that the second she got her wings and powers back, that she would never let herself be put in this kind of situation ever again. Either way, she knew what she had to do, and so reluctantly, Nalia made her way down the narrow hallways of the lower palace, hoping to make it up to the King's private chambers without being seen.

She wasn't even sure if Thranduil's chambers, is where the hilt would be kept, but Mavalen had told her that she was to check there first, so that was where she was going. She could not afford to ask questions. This had to be a quick in and out, and she hoped that she would not encounter any of the guards, because if there was one thing Nalia was poor at, it was combat. If this little mission came down to fighting for the hilt of Mavalen's prize, she knew that any chance she had at ever being free, was gone. The thought scared her and so she made a second promise to herself, as she rounded another corner.

"If I get out of this one alive, I'll get someone to teach me how to use a sword."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas smiled to himself as he made his way through the foliage of the next tree. This was almost too easy. He'd managed to escape his watcher's care over three and a half hours ago, and had yet to see a single of his father's guards anywhere near his location. He was sure that by now, Thranduil, and his brothers had sent people looking for him, and he knew that eventually they would find him. However, for now, he was free. And able to do anything he wanted to, without worry about what his father or siblings would say. And if they would approve. He could prove to them, that he was old enough to go out on his own. After all, he wasn't a child anymore.

Every day, whenever he would watch his brothers go out to the fields and train in all types of weaponry, he would ask to join them. But every day, he received the same answers from them and his father.

"You're too young, Legolas." "One day." "We don't want you to get yourself hurt."

Why would they think he would get himself hurt, he wondered with a frown. Sure he was small, but he was as brave as anyone else out there. He knew that he could handle himself, even if no one else could see it. And he was determined to show them, even though he knew the moment he returned home, he was in for the punishment of his lifetime. His father would kill him, but he didn't care. At least he would be able to tell them after this, that he could take care of himself. Then they wouldn't be able to use the excuse that he could get hurt, on him anymore.

Legolas was an avid reader, for his father had always influenced all of his children to take joy in the literary world. Legolas himself loved it, and found great joy in getting lost in the stories of the fearless warriors of old, and their accounts of bravery, heartache, and glory. He promised himself, each day, after reading, or hearing his sister or brother tell him one of the ancient tales, that some day, his name would be in one of the great books. One day, children of all races would read his name, and pretend to be him when they played with their friends. It was something that had meant a lot to him and was the only thing he could think about, up until a year ago, when he discovered his other love in life.

Archery.

After much begging, and sad pleading faces, Legolas managed to convince his father to show him how to use a bow and arrow. It was something that had caught his interest, and from the moment Thranduil had placed the bow in his hands, it never left them. He loved it, and he was good at it too. Landuil said he was a natural, and Legolas took great pride in that. He'd secretly been sneaking out of his bedroom window every night, to practice on an old target range, that had been abandoned many years ago, and would go at it, all night long, until the sun would start to show itself, signalling the time had come for him to slink back up into his bed before anyone noticed he was gone again.

He'd managed to keep his skills at the art a secret, but now, Legolas saw the opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to show that he could go out into the wild, like his father, brothers and the other guards, and protect his country. He would show them all that he could handle himself, and that he didn't need somebody always looking out for him. He'd show them, by surviving the night in the dark forest. And he'd do it, alone.

After all, it couldn't be that difficult, could it?