Disclaimer: All characters in this story, save my own, do not belong to me. They are property of J.R.R. Tolkien, and whoever else owns the copyright. I write this tale for entertainment purposes alone, and I am neither seeking nor receiving any profit from it whatsoever, lest it be in the form of confidence-building reviews, and extra practice in writing.
.
.
Melui: Thanks for the review! You have actually run out of words? Knowing you, that's a huge compliment! ;) Thanks! Cry Tears Of Darkness: Thank you! You are evil! Poor Dinnulín. I'm glad that there wasn't too many distractions, and if you have too much trouble with the places, just email me and I'll help you out. Fear not - Legolas is in this chapter. And I'm glad you liked Thranduil's reverie about his wife. I know, I can't believe school is tomorrow! I'm so depressed. Thanks for the review!Sirnonenath: Wow. I am so touched that you put me on your favourite author's list – that means so much to me! You're the first person to do that who isn't one of my friends from school. I would so hug you now if it were possible! Thank you! Yes, Lothwen's very hard for me. Maybe I should kill her off...no, I'm just kidding; I need her for the plot. Her personality came out a bit more in this chapter because she wasn't drunk, and hopefully I'll be able to portray her like she is in my mind - I wrote I little bio for her (I'm way too thorough), but it's not helping as much as I thought it would. Votre Français est très bien! Mes problèmes sont dans l'orale et, un peut, dans la lecture et compréhension d'orale, mais m'écriture n'est pas mal. Oui, cette langue est très difficile. Thanks for the 'site - it's really good. And I hope you don't mind, but I just may take you up on you offer once in a while! I'm glad you like Gaelrian and the scene where Thranduil remembers her - I tried to make it sad, but not overly dramatic. And about the candles; thanks. I needed a way for him to realise that he had to leave, but since he couldn't have had an alarm clock, I figured he could have 'hour candles,' so to speak. Don't worry, more about Gaelrian will be revealed later in the story, so I can't answer your question ;). Maybe I will make a prequel...As for that man - you'll see. Good luck on your exams if you haven't done them yet, and thanks again for your offer, and for putting me on you favourites list. I'm so glad you like reading what I write. Thanks for the review - I always look forward to getting one from you!
farflung: Thanks for your reviews for chapters four and five! Faelon is a very thoughtful elf, and thanks for saying I make them speak well! I really appreciate that - I was a bit worried at times that they were too old/young sounding (it feels strange to have elves speaking so simply, and then when I move to the adults, I feel strange making them speak so proper!). Your poor sister! I have no tolerance for alcohol and I'm seventeen. It's sad really. I feel bad about killing Legolas' mother too, but since she was never mentioned in The Hobbit or LOTR, I didn't want to take any chances. And besides, it works for my plot! At least Elves can return to Middle- earth once Mandos feels they've stayed in his Halls long enough, so he will see her again. I know, I hate school schedules - my semester starts tomorrow, and it's insane! I have such long days! Thanks for the review, and I hope you still find the story charming after this. It got a bit dark. Please keep reading it though! :)
.
.
.
.
Chapter Six: Of Elves and Crimson Hands.
.
A dark wind blew through the trees, chilling the spring air and birthing a sense of foreboding in the deep forest of Mirkwood. An owl hooted overhead, the sound mingling eerily with the piercing screeches of bats. Five elves stood in a small clearing, bodies tense as their bright eyes moved swiftly over the surroundings.
"It appears that a party was held here recently," Talagant broke the silence as he moved forward to inspect the table. "And yet there is no sign of Legolas or his comrades."
"They must still be here," Ethirion looked about as though the young prince would suddenly materialize with that statement.
"Aye," Mírolind said, moving further into the clearing as well, "Legolas is not one to abandon his pursuits – if he were not here, then nor would be anything else."
"But why would he be out here to begin with?" Thranduil asked, holding Nírwen. "Did he have a party merely to celebrate the breaking of his punishment?"
Gwinfalas gasped almost imperceptibly as realisation dawned upon her. "Today is Lady Lothwen's begetting day; Legolas must have given her a party. He is kind like that. Mayhap they are showing her some sort of surprise?"
"Nay, Híril nín," Talagant stood by the table, an empty glass in hand. "I do not think so –"
"Unless the surprise is more wine," Ethirion sniffed at a goblet, his nose wrinkling. "They must be falling over themselves by now...or comatose. This is very strong; I think it is the stuff Mirthael made me on my seventieth begetting day. He'd said it was time I settled down and thought about having a child..."
"And did you follow his advice, ernil nín?" Gwinfalas asked, their current objective forgotten. Her red face was an odd blend between dismay and fury.
"Will the two of you please cease this foolishness," Mírolind said, exasperated. "In case you have not noticed, meld muindor nín, Legolas has yet to be found."
"Forgive me, Híril nín," Gwinfalas said earnestly, "I did not mean to lose sight of the problem." She bowed, hand over her heart, and Mírolind's ire seemed to soften, but annoyance still shone in her eyes. Gwinfalas turned to Talagant: "Where do you think they went?"
"My guess," he replaced the goblet and turned to gaze at her with calm eyes, "is that they have wandered off in their inebriation. Mayhap we will find them if we track their course."
Ethirion, too, replaced his goblet and looked at the ground. An elegant eyebrow rose as his eyes followed the trail of what appeared to be drunken stumbling. He turned about in a circle, walked forward, then, after a pause where the tracks collided in a confused mess ("I wonder what they were doing," he muttered to no one in particular), he made his way slowly to the river. Pausing by the riverbank, Ethirion cocked his head in confusion as he picked up a tiny pair of brown shoes that seemed to have been thrown haphazardly into a gnarled bush. "Dinnulín's shoes," his eyes shown with worry. "The tracks stop here."
"You..." Gwinfalas paused, "you do not think they fell in, do you?" The four elves joined Ethirion by the river, fear shadowing their faces.
"No," Mírolind said, turning to them. "Look: there is a stake here – for a boat!"
Talagant gazed thoughtfully at it for a moment. "From what I could tell, young Roccondil was with them. I would not be surprised if he had brought one."
"Yes, but Faelon would never allow his muinthel on such a thing – not in this river!" Gwinfalas' eyes darkened. 'The wine!' "Oh no..."
"That little fool!" Thranduil growled. 'He is going to get himself –' "How far do you think they've gotten?"
"The current is extremely fast..." Talagant said, watching the river. "And the bread upon the table is dry and stale. So if they became inebriated during their dinner, and immediately set out to the boat, then hours have passed since they left. They must be at the edge of the wood, if they have not already left it."
Thranduil turned grave eyes to the group. "Then we haven't much time. Gwinfalas go to the elflings' families and tell them what's happened. Talagant, it is time to test your skills as heir to the throne. Mírolind, Ethirion, return home and prepare packs and horses. We go to find them."
.
.
.
.
Dinnulín stared at the man for a moment, her eyes wide. Her heart was beating frantically in her chest as her startled mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had said, and slowly, with great effort, it formed her response in Westron. "Your crow – i-it stole my bird.""Your bird?" The man asked; his loud voice seemed to fill the forest.
Dinnulín took a step back, trembling slightly. "My glass bird, he...he stole it...Hír nín."
The man paused a moment, and the small elf watched as a menacing sneer spread slowly across his face. "He did, did he?" He chuckled, but the harsh noise sent shivers down Dinnulín's spine.
Trembling intensely now, her tears began anew. Never before had she been so petrified, and Dinnulín felt as though her body had turned to stone; her limbs, though shaking, seemed heavy and alien, and despite her many pleading commands, they would not move. Her mind raced in frenzied panic – why was she so afraid? She did not understand; the man had not harmed her. But there was something in the way he held himself, like a stalking predator taunting its cornered prey, something that screamed at her to run.
"Oh, but my dear, that is his job."
Before her leaden body could react, the man had lunged forward, the crow leaping into the air, cawing madly, and seized her slender arm in a bone-cracking grip. With a deep grunt, the man hauled her forward and Dinnulín's bare feet formed deep trails in the earthy forest floor. Fat tears poured down her face and her heart rammed painfully in her chest as she struggled fiercely in his grasp. But still it did not slacken. Dinnulín did the first thing that came to her frenzied mind. She screamed.
The man's grip faltered for but a second, and he brought his other hand roughly to her mouth, desperate to stifle the ear-piercing scream that rang through the trees. Dinnulín's eyes widened in terrified horror as she tried to draw breath but felt only an odd, tight sensation in her chest as her lungs strained to take in what they so desperately needed. Sparkling, multicoloured specs danced before her eyes. She was going to die.
Something erupted within the tiny elf, a thing of feral instinct and borne of a final, desperate need to survive. Her mind wiped blank, as though her consciousness and soul had shattered, the bright pieces drifting away on a chill wind. And it was with a strength that belied her small stature and delicate features that Dinnulín thrashed wildly at the man. Pain laced through her body as her foot connected with his iron shin, but she did not feel it. Her pale, innocent fingers clawed at his thick, hairy arms, and blood seeped from the wounds. Thin rolls of red flesh wedged beneath her nails. Howling in pain, the man wrenched his arm from the child's mouth, only to bring it down once more. Dinnulín fell to the ground with the force of the blow, her cheek throbbing, but she quickly pushed herself backward as her tormentor advanced upon her. Her frantic eyes widened when the trunk of a great tree suddenly halted her escape. The man let out a satisfied bark, and an evil smirk replaced his pained grimace. "You'll pay for that you little –"
But he did not finish. Dinnulín watched in terror as he coughed and cursed and rubbed furiously at his eyes where the thrown dirt and pine needles had hit.
Then, like the speeding waters from a broken dam, her consciousness flooded her. She felt a sharp click as her mind quickly registered the surroundings; her bloodied hands, the throbbing pain in her body – and the fast-recovering human before her. Run, a voice deep within screamed, run! And this time she heeded it.
Like an arrow from a bow she sprang from the ground and bolted swiftly through the trees. Sharp needles tore at her cheeks and her salty tears burned the wounds. Her pounding feet stung as they hit the course earth, small stones sticking to their tender sores. But the shadows were quickly lifting, and Dinnulín sobbed when at last the bright sun assailed her senses. Close ahead, slightly to the left, was a wide bridge leading to the great town upon the lake.
Just as she dared begin to hope, a fierce howl of rage boomed behind her, and her elven ears told her that the man was in hot pursuit. Heart beating madly in her chest, Dinnulín screamed.
.
.
.
.
Birdsong and the steady sound of fast-flowing water were the first things to greet Legolas' hazy mind as he pulled himself from his elven dreams. He felt himself being gently guided to the land of the waking, and he allowed a sense of contented peace to wash over his body as he at last became alert.Black. Deep, dark, endless black was all that met him, and he started in horrified surprise. His eyes were closed!
Panicked, Legolas wrenched them open and sat up in one swift motion. He gasped as the world swirled wildly about him, and clamped a hand over his mouth – his stomach lurched threateningly. He looked down at his body and focused his mind on finding injuries; besides the nausea, the pounding in his head, and the fact that his mouth tasted as if he had just eaten his tunic, he could find nothing that was not as it should be. Except that he had no idea where he was and his friends lay scattered about him on a riverbank.
Now thoroughly confused, Legolas staggered quickly to his feet (or as quickly as his foggy mind would allow) when he saw Roccondil rollover in his sleep, coming to rest with his head upon Lothwen's chest and his arm wrapped tightly around her torso. If he wanted his friend to live, Legolas would have to remove him before the young maiden could awaken. He reached the elves, noting that their eyes were closed as well, and reached out to gently shake his friend's shoulder, desperate not to disturb the elf beneath. However, Roccondil had the same reaction as Legolas to his closed eyes, and with a strange, gurgled noise, he shot awake with a start, jarring the sleeping Lothwen in the process.
Her eyes opened slowly, and they were shadowed with sleepy confusion and pain. Then they focused on the elf atop her. In the time it took Roccondil to blink, her brow furrowed and her eyes became steely and narrowed.
"Get off! " Lothwen yelled furiously and Legolas watched in amazement as the unfortunate boy was sent tumbling into the river. Lothwen sat up, seething, and with a pained expression, rubbed her head.
Roccondil surfaced, and dragged himself out of the water. "I could have drowned, you lunatic!" He disentangled himself from the rope about his feet and pulled the raft from the river. The two glared at each other and Roccondil titled the raft so that Lothwen's gifts and the water skins fell on her.
"Ugh! You are such a child!"
However, just when it looked as though a fight was imminent, their friendly words from the party forgotten, Faelon (who, with all the noise, had awoken and moved to rouse his sister) cried out in dismay. "Dinnulín?!" He shot up from the ground, swaying slightly, and looked frantically for her. "No! What if she's in the river?! Ai, Elbereth..." he trailed off, eyes sparkling with fear and unshed tears.
The three elves immediately moved to aid him, and soon they were all scouring the area for the lost child. Long minutes passed.
"Maybe we should check downriver," Legolas whispered to Lothwen as she looked in vain for footprints. He did not want to further upset Faelon, but he knew Dinnulín would not have wandered off on her own, and he was afraid that she had indeed fallen in the swift waters.
The maiden nodded gravely and moved to the distressed elf. "Faelon?" He looked at her, eyes frantic. "I think we should follow the river."
His pale face seemed almost grey as yet more colour left it. Tears formed wet trails down his cheeks, and Lothwen felt her heart clench. Wanting to soothe her friend, she lean forward to embrace him, but stopped halfway and gripped his shoulder instead. She lowered her eyes sadly and turned to follow Legolas downriver when a piercing scream rent the air, causing the elves to start and whip around – it had come from beyond a small hill.
"That was Dinnulín!" Faelon yelled and ran toward the sound. "Come on!"
Legolas grabbed Lothwen's bow in case they would need it, while Roccondil took the rest of the gifts (except for the large book, which he left in the grass), and followed his friends as they rushed up the hill.
Soon they reached its crest and they stood, hands shielding their eyes, looking for the source of the scream. Faelon cried out when he saw his little sister dash out of a copse of trees in the distance, a large man chasing close behind. The girl screamed again and, with a great yell of "Dinnulín," he took off down the hill.
The girl had made it to the bridge when she paused and whipped around at the sound of his voice. "Thau nín! Muindor!" She cried in terror. However, this was to the man's advantage; with a great yell, he had caught up to the child and was lifting her screaming form into the air.
Legolas and his friends raced toward her, their legs pumping furiously as they lessened the distance separating them from the bridge. He stared at the man in shock and fear, but as Dinnulín cried out once more for help, it quickly changed to repulsion and fury. Legolas glared at the abomination terrorizing the normally bright and happy elfling and he felt his blood boil and churn. Dinnulín was writing and screaming in fear and pain. They would not reach her! Panic rose in his chest as he came to an abrupt halt and raised the bow. Notching an arrow, he aligned it with the man's temple and pulled back on the string, willing himself into calmness. With a sharp twang, the arrow whistled through the air. There was a sickening thud as the man's head jerked to the side. His legs crumpled beneath him and he fell to the ground, Dinnulín still clutched tightly in his grip.
Legolas felt a cold chill race through him, and his breath came in short, frantic gasps. The bow dropped from his limp fingers and landed at his feet. Dizzy and nauseous, Legolas raised his numb, shaking hands. He felt dirty. Crimson blood dripped from his fingers as he looked at them in horror.
He had killed him.
.
.
.
.
"Thau nín! Muindor!" – Help me! Brother!"Híril nín" – My Lady
"Hír nín" – My Lord
"Meld muindor nín" – My dear brother
"Muindor" – Brother
"Muinthel" – Sister
.
.
I forgot to tell you all this last time;.
Gaelrian – Glimmering Lady.
.
I'm sorry that it was so short; it was supposed to be longer (the elflings were going to go into Lake Town), but stuff came up in the last few days, and I just barely got this much. Well, tomorrow school starts again, and I have a lot on my plate this semester, so while I'll spend as much of my little free time as possible writing chapters, I can't guarantee many updates (if any) until after May 10, 2004.Also, I'm sorry about the whole Dinnulín and the man thing, but it was an essential plot point, and I needed it to darken the mood of the story - as of yet, it's been rather light-hearted. I hope I didn't make anyone angry, and believe me it was hard to write: not only did I feel guilty for doing that to my poor little Dinnu, but I also didn't want it to get to violent, while still showing how much of a horrible and frightening experience it was for her. I absolutely hate child abusers. And that is why the man had to die. The creep.
Well, that's all I have to say, except for please review – they make my day. And I'll definitely need it after tomorrow. Please no flames – if I made you angry with that horrible scene, I'm sorry, but if you still feel that you need to criticize, then do so politely. Thanks again! :)
.
.
Thank you for reading,Ethelewen