After the Storm
Chapter Nine: The Blade that Pierces
Eyes.
Red, flaming. Eager to attack, lusting for hot streams of blood, flowing down a pale chin, voracious, always thirsty…
Ai, so thirsty…
His mouth was parched, dried like a puddle in the peak of a drought, and the sides of his throat were stuck together painfully, so that when he spoke in his hoarse, hideous tone, skin was ripped away. When he screamed.
Years of torment had brought him to this, this formidable form that worshiped flames and his own body. This creature that had no gods, no religion, nothing left to believe in. Terrible, fearsome. They cowered before him, they bent to his will, those miserable beasts who dwelled in the mountains.
He was the overlord, and his word was law!
Beautiful, like a pale blossom in a cold spring, a dark night sky like a black sea with floating ships of blazing diamond, or a fire with tongues of bright orange and crimson when angered. His touch was feather-soft, or sharper than the thinnest, most deadly blade.
Only suffering could feed him. He longed to devour it, yearned to grow fat on their cries. Who dared to come before him, to say that they had not gone astray? He who would be marred soon, with whip and ash, he who would perish lonely in his dungeons.
He was the overlord…and his greed's word was law.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Man slept. He did not slumber silently, nor peacefully, but as an animal hunted with arrows, fleeing for his life. He tossed and moaned, calling familiar, yet foreign names.
He disturbed the solemn figure beside him.
Thoron wanted him dead.
Time and pent-up rage at his master had led to this, and now it was too late to halt him. His long, white fingers twitched, longing to grasp his neck, longing to feel the crunch of bones. While his owner could not reach him in voice, not with Thalion guarding him, he could still influence his feelings. Now every passing sentence saw his sanity slipping slowly away.
He hated this filthy mortal, this demon, this slime. His greasy brown hair, his beady black eyes, and his tongue like a snake. He loathed him with fiery passion.
He saw him as little more than an animal.
Reaching forwards, he brushed his fingers to his throat, stroking the sweaty skin. Estel did not wake.
Thoron hissed in delight, a wheezy chuckle that brought shivers to one's spine. As he grappled for a better hold, he was toppled to the earth.
Growling softly, he looked into Thalion's deeply upset, dark brown eyes.
~What are you doing, my Elfling?~
~I am ridding you of rubbish, you vile creature~ he spat, glaring violently. ~Stay back!~
Thalion stared at him with the look of a calm ocean before a storm in his orbs.
~I have not lived as long as I have without learning a few things about imprudent foals~ he warned. ~You are hurting my master, and you will not go unpunished if you try it again~
The gentleness was absent from his deep voice, and now it boomed like thunder in his ears.
Thorn cackled in a high-pitched tone, sounding as if all of his wits had been robbed, a likely event.
~Punished?~ he asked, incredulous. ~Stupid beast! I shall not go scathed from this 'battle'~
With that, he sprang to Aragorn's body…only to smack into a surface like stone. Thalion.
He continued to fling himself through the air, feeling dark bruises stain his delicate skin each time that he made impact. His body screamed with agony, and his vision was soon blurred with pain. His blood burned like flames as it raced through his veins, searing his flesh from the inside.
~Let me pass!~ he howled in rage. ~Let me pass!~
Yet the steed stood there, noble and adamant.
After what felt like an eternity, he slid to the ground, defeated and crestfallen.
Once there, to the horse's shock, he started to cry pathetically and quietly, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks. He curled into a tight ball on his side, gripping his knees to his chest and rocking himself. His eyes closed tightly, and his breathing hitched. He soon began to retch with anguish.
~Little one?~ the stallion asked in concern. ~Are you yourself once more?~
A heart-trending sob was his answer.
~Hurt!~ he shrieked. ~Hurt, hurt, hurt! Oh, it hurts!~
He was unconsciously speaking to Thalion of all of his torment. It made the other's heart ache, and he leaned forward to nuzzle his beloved child.
"Thoron?"
Aragorn was awake. His eyes were worried as he knelt beside him.
"What is wrong? Are Orcs about? You must be quieter. You could alert all kinds of foul beings to our presence…"
The animal turned to his master.
~Help him~ he pleaded, hoping that the mortal could comprehend. ~He is broken. You must fix him~
Something in his face must have been desperate enough, for understanding lit in the Man's eyes. He lifted the Elf from the earth, gently pressing his face into his tunic. His strong arms held him securely. Thoron continued to sob within the cloth, his cries muffled. From time to time, he tried feebly to force his babbling tongue into words that his mind could no longer comprehend.
Finally, gradually, he calmed. Aragorn looked at him sadly.
"It is so much trouble," he said softly. "Just to keep you sane and healthy is such a struggle. You owe me much debt, perhaps some that can never be repaid. What happened to you?"
He was silent, save for an occasional hiccup, and he brought himself closer to Estel's beating heart. He was still not entirely recovered, and he convulsed violently.
Thoron was terrified.
He had been entirely under the enemy's control, a puppet to that great power. He could have done anything that his master willed in that state of mind, and his being was still tender to attack.
'What will I do next?' he asked himself in misery. 'What hope is left for me? I should be killed, my ashes scattered over the hillside. I am a traitor to myself, and a danger to everyone that I know.'
"You need to tell me," Aragorn persisted, in a quieter, soothing tone. "We have all of the time in the world."
A whimper escaped his throat, and he felt Thalion nuzzle him, as if from the view of an eagle above. His weakened body had little control, and everything happened slowly, now, like he was a boat with no oar, ruled by the currents of time. Instead of answering, his eyes fluttered shut, emotionally drained by his ordeal.
Aragorn carefully lay him down unto the soft, cool earth. The Elf sighed, rolling to the side and burying his thin, marble fingers in the soil, still trembling. He reached for his friend, nay, his protector, and rested his spare hand on his own.
"Please," he whined softly, pathetically. "Oh, please, don't leave me."
Estel squeezed his hand in careful reassurance.
"It's alright, Thoron," he murmured. "We can be broken together."
His breath evened in slumber.
'Together…'
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You are sure that you will not quest for Aragorn?" Elrond asked sadly. "I cannot convince you otherwise?"
Elrohir growled under his breath.
"I would have you forget his name, Ada," he hissed angrily. "After all of his burden, and all of his curses, I refuse to believe that he is truly the hope of Men. The blood must be tainted in his veins. I am not yet certain that he was not the rightful heir of Sauron."
"You place too great a weight upon his shoulders, my son. He had just been told that every plan he had ever dreamed was ending. He could no longer live a simple, carefree life…"
"No load can be too heavy," he interrupted. "Not after what he has done to Elladan!"
His father excused his rude tongue, recalling the strong bond between the two.
"Where is your brother?" Elrond questioned, frowning. He had not seen the Elf through all of yesterday. He would delay their departure.
Elrohir froze, his eyes widening. Without another word, he raced away, abandoning his horse and his father.
"Elladan!" he called, leaping through the field. Long strands of bright green grass brushed his legs, wet with dew. The cold wind fought his frantic searching. "Brother!"
A dark figure, shielded by the starless night, lay on a clump of particularly unruly grass. He lay limp, like a rag doll that was left out in the rain, features faded away into nothingness.
"Elladan?" he asked fearfully, kneeling beside the other.
The twin's strong hands roused the elder, passing him only by mere moments. A sad face gazed up at him, beautiful eyes wet with tears that marked his face in streaks.
"Oh," he breathed. "Thank the Valar! You're alright!"
Elladan shook his head.
"No," he whispered. "I'm not alright. What if he comes back? What if he thinks that we abandoned him? We've been so close, for so, so long. What if he thinks that I…that we…abandoned him in his time of need? What if he believes that we loathe him?"
Elrohir's eyes burned with the angry radiance of fire.
"What does he matter, brother?" he questioned, voice harsh. "We leave so that he will know his foul deeds, and be filled with regret. We depart so that you may forget."
"Will we keep killing, then?" he asked. "Will we slay Orc until the rivers flow with their black blood? They were not Aragorn's bane: they were our mother's. How do we seek vengeance upon that which we cannot see? How can I ever find peace of mind? I tire of death, Elladan."
"We can make a difference," the younger assured him. "We can save lives this way. The Dùnedan are our allies and friends, and perhaps companionship could ease the pain that the mortal filth has brought upon you."
"Do you remember when he had nightmares, and how he would scamper to us?" Elladan murmured. "Do you remember singing to him when he couldn't sleep, and teaching him to wield a sword? I cannot bear to hate him, brother, despite what he has done. Would you loathe me, had I exacted the same upon your heart?"
Gasping as he rose, wiping the tears from his eyes, he leaned against Elrohir.
"Can we not search for him?"
The other was silent, contemplating his choices. He was torn in two. Aragorn had wounded his twin, and he was overwhelmed with a thirst for vengeance, but, at the same time, the only thing that would restore Elladan was to let him quest for the very Man who had hurt him…
He hated seeing his strong brother so weakened.
"Time is the only cure," he said finally. "He is twisted beyond hope. Trust me, Elladan, I harbor more skill in this matter than you. If you truly hold faith in me, you shall take faith in this as well."
He helped him to rise, noting with glee that his brother had regained some of his former weight.
"Come," he urged. "Let us set out. We should reach the current camp of the Dùnedan in a week's time, if we start now."
Elladan was silent, but his eyes were swirling with emotion, tears gathering in their fair depths. Elrohir squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
"Do not worry," he told his twin. "All shall be made right."
"How do you know?" the other questioned in a hoarse, tired voice. "Has Elbereth whispered in your eyes, revealing all that is to come?"
"No," Elrohir answered sagely. "My heart has."
Gently, he led him to the horses, and, as the sun began to stain the sky like purple ink, lighting each blade of emerald grass and caressing each cream-colored flower, molding with the trickles of water in small streams, a heavy burden took flight from one heart…and nestled itself in another.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He awoke feeling drained.
Estel looked as if he had fallen to sleep on watch, perhaps as the sun warmed the cold, night world. He did not wake him, for he dared not trouble him. He was far too frightened.
Was he a child, now? Useless, coddled and protected by his friend? In his soul, he could feel the answer, like the clear, sad cry of a gull. He was useless.
"Do you now see the path that fate has chosen for you? To live your miserable life as an invalid, an infant?"
Thoron started. It was the voice, evil and smooth, cutting through his being.
"What do you want?" he asked through clenched teeth, ready to cry again. Why was the voice back?
"To aid you," it answered. "I can give you a life free from oppression, just you and I, if you would only do as I bid-"
"You have never helped before," the Elf spoke quickly. "You have ruined me, taken everything that I have ever loved. Why do you choose to give me solace, when you have never given me such a luxury before? How can I trust you? Why should I consider your offer?"
"Because, imprudent one," it hissed. "I know hold your essence in my palms, your body, mind, and soul. I can make you do terrible things, things that the strongest would hide in the shadows of, things that you had never dreamed of doing, never in your most revolting nightmares. I can make you feel pain beyond all else, make you see things that aren't real. I can return your memory and then take it away, just to watch you cry. It is out of courtesy that I offer this, my pet, I assure you. You have but begun to taste my powers."
The ghost of a caress brushed his back, and then began to stroke his silky hair. Thoron shivered as lips touched his throat.
"Give me time," he pleaded. "Please."
"Two weeks, I hand you, my pet," the voice murmured, and unseen fingernails dug into his tender skin, making him gasp and stiffen in shock. "Choose wisely. Tell no one of our meeting."
"Yes, master," he croaked. "Yes, I shall think hard on this matter."
Moist air filled his ear, a kiss placed on the graceful tip…then he was alone.
Thalion grunted as he rose, walking slowly to Thoron. He neighed softly, nuzzling his soft cheek, dripping with tears.
~My poor Elfling…~ the stallion sighed with sympathy. ~How can I ease your pain?~
~No!~ he shrieked, making Thalion flinch from surprise at his rapidly morphing emotions. ~No! I am strong! I can handle this alone! I don't need *anyone*, especially not you!~
His voice cracked and he shivered, wrapping thin arms around his frigid body, suffering from inner cold.
~No~ Thalion whispered calmly. ~You cannot. You need aid, young one, a friend, or a family member. Your heart has been poisoned. The ice will take you. The Man can help. I can help. I love you like my own colt.~
~I don't want to be coddled!~ he cried. ~I'm no child! I'm no helpless rabbit! I…~
He trailed off as he realized his folly. He *was* a baby. A vulnerable, spoiled, newborn baby, one so hideous that no mother could ever love him, ever take away his pain. Anger burned inside of him once more, rage for his ill fortune, his pain. Warm blood rushed to his head. He was so, so confused and violent, so enraged and stupid…
A cold nose brushed each tip of his ears, one at a time, pacifying him.
~You're not any of those things, once. You were once truly great, once noble, proud, and strong, able to defend easily any who needed your protection. I feel it in your blood. However, you are hurt, now, and, like a broken leg, you need the right attention, or you shall heal crookedly. You shall be this way forever if you do not accept my love.~
Tenderly, he licked his cheek, ridding it of tears, as if trying to clean the filth from his soul.
~You can act strong with the Man, and still cry your pain to me, little one. You can also consult in him. He needs responsibility, my master does. You will help him accept it. Do not fear! He is gentle, and shall not turn you away from his side. If he did, I would leave as well, and he requires my help to travel. You are safe here.~
'No,' he thought bitterly. 'No, I'm not safe at all.'
Yet he said naught.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Elrond sighed, watching the starless night sky.
His fate could not be ignored, that was certain, but it could wait. After all, this could be the greatest trial of strength, survival, and wisdom that his son had ever faced. Strength, for he would need to ride many long days, fighting off beasts of the wild. Survival, for he would be forced to hunt for his food in places where the Valar had drawn all water out of the soil and withered the plants, requiring him to scavenge for substance often. Lastly, wisdom…he was unconsciously seeking it already, and the journey would give him much, like a wealthy crop discovered by a poor farmer. In turn, it would both bless and curse him with maturity…
Maturity enough to come home.
The years had done what he had thought they would not, and, despite his efforts, he had grown to love the mortal like a son, in a bond that he had never shared with any Man.
With the exception of Elros.
At the thought of his brother, long passed on to a land he could never reach, his heart was stabbed with such sheer anguish and longing that he gasped, clenching his fists to counter the pain. His head grew dizzy for a while, and his vision blurred, like a fresh painting left out in the rain, before steadying once more.
"Why?" he wheezed softly, recovering his breath. "I thought that I had overcome this. I thought that all of my tears had dried."
Suddenly, he was assaulted by the fragrance of Celebrian, and he sank to his knees on the cold earth. The memory of his beautiful wife was too much to bear whilst knowing that he could sail to Valinor now, held back only by duty.
The darkness in the sky spread like spilt ink, devouring trees and blades of grass, its voracious hunger insatiable.
His father's star was dead.
As the frigid blackness touched him, he felt true cold, cold that Elves were not meant to feel. His skin tinged blue and he screamed for help, whilst knowing that no one cared enough to save him. Blood flowed down his body, burning his skin like acid. Red tears flowed down his cheeks.
"Ada!" he screamed. "Naneth! Elros!"
But no one could save him, and the blackness poisoned and twisted him, until all that he could see and feel was blood.
Blood and malice.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~
Muh ah ha ha! Yes! Yes! With the final sentence of this chapter, I have created the greatest cliffie so far…
And I'm just getting started.
No, seriously, you will not believe the scale of this story. I plan for this to affect all of Middle-Earth. This is no short tale.
I'm going to warn all of you now…because I'm sick and tired of using this space to apologize.
It wasn't my fault! I swear! Fanfiction.net wouldn't let me upload!
And now, to the wonderful reviewers!
**
FlagGirl01: Thanks for the review! I wasn't aware, acutely, at least, that Thoron had a particular style of reaction to such things ere you responded.
Shanna: ¡Hola otra vez! Aunque no puedo contestar a la mayoría de sus preguntas, diré que Thranduil está de luto fanáticamente porque Legolas era la única familia que permanecía. ¡Gracias!
marbienl: Thanks for telling me about the chapter eight mess-up! I owe you! You also hold a point about WIPs, although finished works take longer to read than one chapter at a time. Vaire is meant to have a ` over the 'e', but my computer won't let me do that. She is, supposedly, the weaver of time. Yes, Thalion does act as a parent to those whom he favors, and, as I think later chapters will reveal, he does show the same love to Estel. Hey, you're right! It's a cliffie! Yay! I'll go eat a muffin, now…
leggylover03: Um, you could be waiting there a long while. I better check back for cobwebs, now and then… (looks back at previous review) Hey, do you want a muffin while you sit?
LegolasLover2003: Yes, Aragorn is pretty clueless in this story, but we'll watch him evolve. Thanks for reviewing!
evil snapple pie: Love that name! Oh, uh, sorry… Aw…you're making me feel all special inside! (Muse: Stop now, before she starts to think she's actually *worth* something in society! Me: Nobody asked you!) Anywho, thank you *so* much for reviewing! It's people like you who make all of this worth it!
Elenillor: Uh…that first bit's a little random to me…It took me a while to figure that out…Thanks for reviewing!
Astievia: Nay, you're not naïve. I had to look it up myself the first time I peeked at Fanfiction. (www.dictionary.com) A muse is a thought, a story idea, a source of inspiration, a guiding spirit, so on and so forth. Also: You think your sister will have a cow? My sister will roast me alive if I don't bend to her every whim!
**
Awesome! You guys rule!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Oh, and:
MUST READ!!
Special thanks to all of those who have me on favorite lists and author alert: Spongeboob squirepants, Elenillor, Lilyoda, TrinityTheSheDevil, Saru Namii, evil snapple pie, Saihitei Seishuku, wadeva, Cheysuli, leggylover03, Ymmas Sirron, marbienl, Soar, kaydi, stardust-creations, WaterSeeress, Emerald Griffin, and quantuminferno! Hey, uh, I don't know a lot of you guys, so…
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, where were we with my muse…?
Muse: (laughing) You'll never get it!
Voice: Um, excuse me?
Muse: (whips head around) Huh? Who said that?
Voice: Me.
Muse: Oh no…could it be that I have a, a, a conscience?
(Starts to shriek and tear at her hair, banging her head against the steering wheel)
Voice: Yeah, hey, you gotta stop doing that. I'm not your conscience.
Muse: (sitting upright and acting cold and unfeeling)
Voice: I'm the Doomsday Device. You're smushing me.
(Opens her arms, and…)
Awesome! *Two* cliffies! A record!
Chapter Nine: The Blade that Pierces
Eyes.
Red, flaming. Eager to attack, lusting for hot streams of blood, flowing down a pale chin, voracious, always thirsty…
Ai, so thirsty…
His mouth was parched, dried like a puddle in the peak of a drought, and the sides of his throat were stuck together painfully, so that when he spoke in his hoarse, hideous tone, skin was ripped away. When he screamed.
Years of torment had brought him to this, this formidable form that worshiped flames and his own body. This creature that had no gods, no religion, nothing left to believe in. Terrible, fearsome. They cowered before him, they bent to his will, those miserable beasts who dwelled in the mountains.
He was the overlord, and his word was law!
Beautiful, like a pale blossom in a cold spring, a dark night sky like a black sea with floating ships of blazing diamond, or a fire with tongues of bright orange and crimson when angered. His touch was feather-soft, or sharper than the thinnest, most deadly blade.
Only suffering could feed him. He longed to devour it, yearned to grow fat on their cries. Who dared to come before him, to say that they had not gone astray? He who would be marred soon, with whip and ash, he who would perish lonely in his dungeons.
He was the overlord…and his greed's word was law.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Man slept. He did not slumber silently, nor peacefully, but as an animal hunted with arrows, fleeing for his life. He tossed and moaned, calling familiar, yet foreign names.
He disturbed the solemn figure beside him.
Thoron wanted him dead.
Time and pent-up rage at his master had led to this, and now it was too late to halt him. His long, white fingers twitched, longing to grasp his neck, longing to feel the crunch of bones. While his owner could not reach him in voice, not with Thalion guarding him, he could still influence his feelings. Now every passing sentence saw his sanity slipping slowly away.
He hated this filthy mortal, this demon, this slime. His greasy brown hair, his beady black eyes, and his tongue like a snake. He loathed him with fiery passion.
He saw him as little more than an animal.
Reaching forwards, he brushed his fingers to his throat, stroking the sweaty skin. Estel did not wake.
Thoron hissed in delight, a wheezy chuckle that brought shivers to one's spine. As he grappled for a better hold, he was toppled to the earth.
Growling softly, he looked into Thalion's deeply upset, dark brown eyes.
~What are you doing, my Elfling?~
~I am ridding you of rubbish, you vile creature~ he spat, glaring violently. ~Stay back!~
Thalion stared at him with the look of a calm ocean before a storm in his orbs.
~I have not lived as long as I have without learning a few things about imprudent foals~ he warned. ~You are hurting my master, and you will not go unpunished if you try it again~
The gentleness was absent from his deep voice, and now it boomed like thunder in his ears.
Thorn cackled in a high-pitched tone, sounding as if all of his wits had been robbed, a likely event.
~Punished?~ he asked, incredulous. ~Stupid beast! I shall not go scathed from this 'battle'~
With that, he sprang to Aragorn's body…only to smack into a surface like stone. Thalion.
He continued to fling himself through the air, feeling dark bruises stain his delicate skin each time that he made impact. His body screamed with agony, and his vision was soon blurred with pain. His blood burned like flames as it raced through his veins, searing his flesh from the inside.
~Let me pass!~ he howled in rage. ~Let me pass!~
Yet the steed stood there, noble and adamant.
After what felt like an eternity, he slid to the ground, defeated and crestfallen.
Once there, to the horse's shock, he started to cry pathetically and quietly, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks. He curled into a tight ball on his side, gripping his knees to his chest and rocking himself. His eyes closed tightly, and his breathing hitched. He soon began to retch with anguish.
~Little one?~ the stallion asked in concern. ~Are you yourself once more?~
A heart-trending sob was his answer.
~Hurt!~ he shrieked. ~Hurt, hurt, hurt! Oh, it hurts!~
He was unconsciously speaking to Thalion of all of his torment. It made the other's heart ache, and he leaned forward to nuzzle his beloved child.
"Thoron?"
Aragorn was awake. His eyes were worried as he knelt beside him.
"What is wrong? Are Orcs about? You must be quieter. You could alert all kinds of foul beings to our presence…"
The animal turned to his master.
~Help him~ he pleaded, hoping that the mortal could comprehend. ~He is broken. You must fix him~
Something in his face must have been desperate enough, for understanding lit in the Man's eyes. He lifted the Elf from the earth, gently pressing his face into his tunic. His strong arms held him securely. Thoron continued to sob within the cloth, his cries muffled. From time to time, he tried feebly to force his babbling tongue into words that his mind could no longer comprehend.
Finally, gradually, he calmed. Aragorn looked at him sadly.
"It is so much trouble," he said softly. "Just to keep you sane and healthy is such a struggle. You owe me much debt, perhaps some that can never be repaid. What happened to you?"
He was silent, save for an occasional hiccup, and he brought himself closer to Estel's beating heart. He was still not entirely recovered, and he convulsed violently.
Thoron was terrified.
He had been entirely under the enemy's control, a puppet to that great power. He could have done anything that his master willed in that state of mind, and his being was still tender to attack.
'What will I do next?' he asked himself in misery. 'What hope is left for me? I should be killed, my ashes scattered over the hillside. I am a traitor to myself, and a danger to everyone that I know.'
"You need to tell me," Aragorn persisted, in a quieter, soothing tone. "We have all of the time in the world."
A whimper escaped his throat, and he felt Thalion nuzzle him, as if from the view of an eagle above. His weakened body had little control, and everything happened slowly, now, like he was a boat with no oar, ruled by the currents of time. Instead of answering, his eyes fluttered shut, emotionally drained by his ordeal.
Aragorn carefully lay him down unto the soft, cool earth. The Elf sighed, rolling to the side and burying his thin, marble fingers in the soil, still trembling. He reached for his friend, nay, his protector, and rested his spare hand on his own.
"Please," he whined softly, pathetically. "Oh, please, don't leave me."
Estel squeezed his hand in careful reassurance.
"It's alright, Thoron," he murmured. "We can be broken together."
His breath evened in slumber.
'Together…'
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You are sure that you will not quest for Aragorn?" Elrond asked sadly. "I cannot convince you otherwise?"
Elrohir growled under his breath.
"I would have you forget his name, Ada," he hissed angrily. "After all of his burden, and all of his curses, I refuse to believe that he is truly the hope of Men. The blood must be tainted in his veins. I am not yet certain that he was not the rightful heir of Sauron."
"You place too great a weight upon his shoulders, my son. He had just been told that every plan he had ever dreamed was ending. He could no longer live a simple, carefree life…"
"No load can be too heavy," he interrupted. "Not after what he has done to Elladan!"
His father excused his rude tongue, recalling the strong bond between the two.
"Where is your brother?" Elrond questioned, frowning. He had not seen the Elf through all of yesterday. He would delay their departure.
Elrohir froze, his eyes widening. Without another word, he raced away, abandoning his horse and his father.
"Elladan!" he called, leaping through the field. Long strands of bright green grass brushed his legs, wet with dew. The cold wind fought his frantic searching. "Brother!"
A dark figure, shielded by the starless night, lay on a clump of particularly unruly grass. He lay limp, like a rag doll that was left out in the rain, features faded away into nothingness.
"Elladan?" he asked fearfully, kneeling beside the other.
The twin's strong hands roused the elder, passing him only by mere moments. A sad face gazed up at him, beautiful eyes wet with tears that marked his face in streaks.
"Oh," he breathed. "Thank the Valar! You're alright!"
Elladan shook his head.
"No," he whispered. "I'm not alright. What if he comes back? What if he thinks that we abandoned him? We've been so close, for so, so long. What if he thinks that I…that we…abandoned him in his time of need? What if he believes that we loathe him?"
Elrohir's eyes burned with the angry radiance of fire.
"What does he matter, brother?" he questioned, voice harsh. "We leave so that he will know his foul deeds, and be filled with regret. We depart so that you may forget."
"Will we keep killing, then?" he asked. "Will we slay Orc until the rivers flow with their black blood? They were not Aragorn's bane: they were our mother's. How do we seek vengeance upon that which we cannot see? How can I ever find peace of mind? I tire of death, Elladan."
"We can make a difference," the younger assured him. "We can save lives this way. The Dùnedan are our allies and friends, and perhaps companionship could ease the pain that the mortal filth has brought upon you."
"Do you remember when he had nightmares, and how he would scamper to us?" Elladan murmured. "Do you remember singing to him when he couldn't sleep, and teaching him to wield a sword? I cannot bear to hate him, brother, despite what he has done. Would you loathe me, had I exacted the same upon your heart?"
Gasping as he rose, wiping the tears from his eyes, he leaned against Elrohir.
"Can we not search for him?"
The other was silent, contemplating his choices. He was torn in two. Aragorn had wounded his twin, and he was overwhelmed with a thirst for vengeance, but, at the same time, the only thing that would restore Elladan was to let him quest for the very Man who had hurt him…
He hated seeing his strong brother so weakened.
"Time is the only cure," he said finally. "He is twisted beyond hope. Trust me, Elladan, I harbor more skill in this matter than you. If you truly hold faith in me, you shall take faith in this as well."
He helped him to rise, noting with glee that his brother had regained some of his former weight.
"Come," he urged. "Let us set out. We should reach the current camp of the Dùnedan in a week's time, if we start now."
Elladan was silent, but his eyes were swirling with emotion, tears gathering in their fair depths. Elrohir squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
"Do not worry," he told his twin. "All shall be made right."
"How do you know?" the other questioned in a hoarse, tired voice. "Has Elbereth whispered in your eyes, revealing all that is to come?"
"No," Elrohir answered sagely. "My heart has."
Gently, he led him to the horses, and, as the sun began to stain the sky like purple ink, lighting each blade of emerald grass and caressing each cream-colored flower, molding with the trickles of water in small streams, a heavy burden took flight from one heart…and nestled itself in another.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He awoke feeling drained.
Estel looked as if he had fallen to sleep on watch, perhaps as the sun warmed the cold, night world. He did not wake him, for he dared not trouble him. He was far too frightened.
Was he a child, now? Useless, coddled and protected by his friend? In his soul, he could feel the answer, like the clear, sad cry of a gull. He was useless.
"Do you now see the path that fate has chosen for you? To live your miserable life as an invalid, an infant?"
Thoron started. It was the voice, evil and smooth, cutting through his being.
"What do you want?" he asked through clenched teeth, ready to cry again. Why was the voice back?
"To aid you," it answered. "I can give you a life free from oppression, just you and I, if you would only do as I bid-"
"You have never helped before," the Elf spoke quickly. "You have ruined me, taken everything that I have ever loved. Why do you choose to give me solace, when you have never given me such a luxury before? How can I trust you? Why should I consider your offer?"
"Because, imprudent one," it hissed. "I know hold your essence in my palms, your body, mind, and soul. I can make you do terrible things, things that the strongest would hide in the shadows of, things that you had never dreamed of doing, never in your most revolting nightmares. I can make you feel pain beyond all else, make you see things that aren't real. I can return your memory and then take it away, just to watch you cry. It is out of courtesy that I offer this, my pet, I assure you. You have but begun to taste my powers."
The ghost of a caress brushed his back, and then began to stroke his silky hair. Thoron shivered as lips touched his throat.
"Give me time," he pleaded. "Please."
"Two weeks, I hand you, my pet," the voice murmured, and unseen fingernails dug into his tender skin, making him gasp and stiffen in shock. "Choose wisely. Tell no one of our meeting."
"Yes, master," he croaked. "Yes, I shall think hard on this matter."
Moist air filled his ear, a kiss placed on the graceful tip…then he was alone.
Thalion grunted as he rose, walking slowly to Thoron. He neighed softly, nuzzling his soft cheek, dripping with tears.
~My poor Elfling…~ the stallion sighed with sympathy. ~How can I ease your pain?~
~No!~ he shrieked, making Thalion flinch from surprise at his rapidly morphing emotions. ~No! I am strong! I can handle this alone! I don't need *anyone*, especially not you!~
His voice cracked and he shivered, wrapping thin arms around his frigid body, suffering from inner cold.
~No~ Thalion whispered calmly. ~You cannot. You need aid, young one, a friend, or a family member. Your heart has been poisoned. The ice will take you. The Man can help. I can help. I love you like my own colt.~
~I don't want to be coddled!~ he cried. ~I'm no child! I'm no helpless rabbit! I…~
He trailed off as he realized his folly. He *was* a baby. A vulnerable, spoiled, newborn baby, one so hideous that no mother could ever love him, ever take away his pain. Anger burned inside of him once more, rage for his ill fortune, his pain. Warm blood rushed to his head. He was so, so confused and violent, so enraged and stupid…
A cold nose brushed each tip of his ears, one at a time, pacifying him.
~You're not any of those things, once. You were once truly great, once noble, proud, and strong, able to defend easily any who needed your protection. I feel it in your blood. However, you are hurt, now, and, like a broken leg, you need the right attention, or you shall heal crookedly. You shall be this way forever if you do not accept my love.~
Tenderly, he licked his cheek, ridding it of tears, as if trying to clean the filth from his soul.
~You can act strong with the Man, and still cry your pain to me, little one. You can also consult in him. He needs responsibility, my master does. You will help him accept it. Do not fear! He is gentle, and shall not turn you away from his side. If he did, I would leave as well, and he requires my help to travel. You are safe here.~
'No,' he thought bitterly. 'No, I'm not safe at all.'
Yet he said naught.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Elrond sighed, watching the starless night sky.
His fate could not be ignored, that was certain, but it could wait. After all, this could be the greatest trial of strength, survival, and wisdom that his son had ever faced. Strength, for he would need to ride many long days, fighting off beasts of the wild. Survival, for he would be forced to hunt for his food in places where the Valar had drawn all water out of the soil and withered the plants, requiring him to scavenge for substance often. Lastly, wisdom…he was unconsciously seeking it already, and the journey would give him much, like a wealthy crop discovered by a poor farmer. In turn, it would both bless and curse him with maturity…
Maturity enough to come home.
The years had done what he had thought they would not, and, despite his efforts, he had grown to love the mortal like a son, in a bond that he had never shared with any Man.
With the exception of Elros.
At the thought of his brother, long passed on to a land he could never reach, his heart was stabbed with such sheer anguish and longing that he gasped, clenching his fists to counter the pain. His head grew dizzy for a while, and his vision blurred, like a fresh painting left out in the rain, before steadying once more.
"Why?" he wheezed softly, recovering his breath. "I thought that I had overcome this. I thought that all of my tears had dried."
Suddenly, he was assaulted by the fragrance of Celebrian, and he sank to his knees on the cold earth. The memory of his beautiful wife was too much to bear whilst knowing that he could sail to Valinor now, held back only by duty.
The darkness in the sky spread like spilt ink, devouring trees and blades of grass, its voracious hunger insatiable.
His father's star was dead.
As the frigid blackness touched him, he felt true cold, cold that Elves were not meant to feel. His skin tinged blue and he screamed for help, whilst knowing that no one cared enough to save him. Blood flowed down his body, burning his skin like acid. Red tears flowed down his cheeks.
"Ada!" he screamed. "Naneth! Elros!"
But no one could save him, and the blackness poisoned and twisted him, until all that he could see and feel was blood.
Blood and malice.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~
Muh ah ha ha! Yes! Yes! With the final sentence of this chapter, I have created the greatest cliffie so far…
And I'm just getting started.
No, seriously, you will not believe the scale of this story. I plan for this to affect all of Middle-Earth. This is no short tale.
I'm going to warn all of you now…because I'm sick and tired of using this space to apologize.
It wasn't my fault! I swear! Fanfiction.net wouldn't let me upload!
And now, to the wonderful reviewers!
**
FlagGirl01: Thanks for the review! I wasn't aware, acutely, at least, that Thoron had a particular style of reaction to such things ere you responded.
Shanna: ¡Hola otra vez! Aunque no puedo contestar a la mayoría de sus preguntas, diré que Thranduil está de luto fanáticamente porque Legolas era la única familia que permanecía. ¡Gracias!
marbienl: Thanks for telling me about the chapter eight mess-up! I owe you! You also hold a point about WIPs, although finished works take longer to read than one chapter at a time. Vaire is meant to have a ` over the 'e', but my computer won't let me do that. She is, supposedly, the weaver of time. Yes, Thalion does act as a parent to those whom he favors, and, as I think later chapters will reveal, he does show the same love to Estel. Hey, you're right! It's a cliffie! Yay! I'll go eat a muffin, now…
leggylover03: Um, you could be waiting there a long while. I better check back for cobwebs, now and then… (looks back at previous review) Hey, do you want a muffin while you sit?
LegolasLover2003: Yes, Aragorn is pretty clueless in this story, but we'll watch him evolve. Thanks for reviewing!
evil snapple pie: Love that name! Oh, uh, sorry… Aw…you're making me feel all special inside! (Muse: Stop now, before she starts to think she's actually *worth* something in society! Me: Nobody asked you!) Anywho, thank you *so* much for reviewing! It's people like you who make all of this worth it!
Elenillor: Uh…that first bit's a little random to me…It took me a while to figure that out…Thanks for reviewing!
Astievia: Nay, you're not naïve. I had to look it up myself the first time I peeked at Fanfiction. (www.dictionary.com) A muse is a thought, a story idea, a source of inspiration, a guiding spirit, so on and so forth. Also: You think your sister will have a cow? My sister will roast me alive if I don't bend to her every whim!
**
Awesome! You guys rule!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Oh, and:
MUST READ!!
Special thanks to all of those who have me on favorite lists and author alert: Spongeboob squirepants, Elenillor, Lilyoda, TrinityTheSheDevil, Saru Namii, evil snapple pie, Saihitei Seishuku, wadeva, Cheysuli, leggylover03, Ymmas Sirron, marbienl, Soar, kaydi, stardust-creations, WaterSeeress, Emerald Griffin, and quantuminferno! Hey, uh, I don't know a lot of you guys, so…
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, where were we with my muse…?
Muse: (laughing) You'll never get it!
Voice: Um, excuse me?
Muse: (whips head around) Huh? Who said that?
Voice: Me.
Muse: Oh no…could it be that I have a, a, a conscience?
(Starts to shriek and tear at her hair, banging her head against the steering wheel)
Voice: Yeah, hey, you gotta stop doing that. I'm not your conscience.
Muse: (sitting upright and acting cold and unfeeling)
Voice: I'm the Doomsday Device. You're smushing me.
(Opens her arms, and…)
Awesome! *Two* cliffies! A record!