After the Storm
Chapter Ten: Death of a Father
"He comes."
It was a hiss, silky and cruel. The Orc before him shook with fear, but met his blood-red eyes.
"Shall we send them a greeting, master?"
High-pitched laughter echoed in the great cavern, and the goblin trembled slightly, recalling previous experiences with his lord's cackling.
"Yes," he whispered, "by all means, do so. Do not threaten them with our full muster just yet. Send them a small taste, merely to whet their appetites. Whilst I play with their minds, your Mordraug shall wear them down. Begin with familiar enemies, so that I might gauge their abilities. First, send out wolves, then Orc, followed by Warg Riders. When they are near enough, and skilled enough, send the Mordraug."
"But master," the Orc whimpered. "It seems as though you want them to live-"
Raw pain suddenly coursed through his veins, and he fell to the stone floor, clutching his chest and gasping for breath, even when it ended.
"Yes, you fool!" he cried. "I shall not go unrewarded for my troubles. Once they are wearied at soul, and stronger in body, it shall be better dining to break them, one by one, into slaves. I, too, require substance. I am no god…"
His eyes glittered darkly.
"At least, not yet."
"Yes, master," the filthy beast wheezed as he rose to a kneel. "Soon, the world will know the truth of your dominion. I shall summon Uglut's band, and tell them of their chance to rise in rank. We can afford them, and both he and the others can believe that they have failed at the chance of a lifetime when they breathe their final breaths."
The voice laughed shrilly.
"Ah, Grashnug," he sighed when he was calmed. "You are far more perceptive than the other filth, one of the many reasons why I have appointed you with this task. I give you leave to torture the prisoners tonight, though not to near death, after you inform Uglut of his…mission."
"Yes, master," the Orc answered, eager for his reward.
"You are dismissed."
He shot up, his eyes wide and his face sweaty. Panting heavily, he rose from his bed, grasping a robe and cloaking his body in its warmth. With shaking limbs, he walked to the Great Hall, settling in his favorite armchair, nearest to the fire. Gazing at the comforting orange blur, he managed to catch his hurried breath, smoothing the wrinkles on his once furrowed brow.
The chair had always been a seat of contemplation, of memory. It aided his frantic thoughts, and soothed him.
"Something has happened," Elrond whispered to himself. "Some event has occurred that the Valar did not intend, some wicked power which has escaped…"
He gasped in realization as the answer bobbed to the surface of his thoughts, like a submerged acorn to the sunlit water of a pond.
"Aragorn," he murmured. "It was Aragorn, then."
Rising once more, he strode quickly to the library, eager to drown himself in the text of his oldest scrolls.
Answers needed to be found…and they would be found, tonight.
Elrohir glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye. He couldn't be seen, of course, or Elladan would be angered, but he watched him all the same.
He had heard tales. Every Elf had.
Men who stole, and beat, and took their pleasure, and killed. He had thought that their little Estel, so vulnerable and sweet as a child, would never evolve into such a…beast. But just as the baby Warg grows to a predator, the children of Men grow as well. it wasn't an Estel who had nearly killed his brother, nay. It was a grown Estel, something new, and different, and fierce.
An Aragorn.
Elladan bit his lip, as he had so often, fighting tears. He tore open a scab, and blood trickled down his pale, thin face. Elrohir felt his heart rip.
'Oh, Valar, what he's done to you inside, my brother.'
He might have pardoned Estel for running away, but not for this. Never. Never. This wasn't an Estel to be dealt with, an innocent, sweet baby. This was a new breed, and it would be dealt with differently.
"We should set up camp, brother," he called, and Elladan struggled to mask relief. As he slid from his horse, he stumbled, falling to the ground. Elrohir rushed to catch him, but the other pulled away, grasping the tatters of his torn pride, running to fetch firewood, his cadaverous form melting into the darkness.
He wouldn't have hurt an Estel.
He would kill an Aragorn.
The sunlight suddenly shone on them in a brilliant moment, welcoming them from the Trollshaws. Aragorn smiled, and Thalion neighed in glee, prancing around in the open grass for many long moments ere his rider could calm him.
"Do you think that our nightly visitor was the last of its breed?" Thoron asked softly.
Aragorn would have laughed had he not begun to fear the Elf.
"Nay," he answered gravely. "Many more of its foul kin still roam freely about these lands, brooding in the shadows until an innocent strays into their lair. Others rampage at night, rashly seeking their pray. Naught can be done, I fear, when inflicted by two mere travelers."
One traveler Thoron thought sadly, clenching his fists. Estel killed the beast, not I. I am a worthless coward.
Stop that, little one Thalion ordered, his tail brushing against the other's leg as if in admonishment. Why do you do this to yourself? You must be strong.
Ignoring the wise steed, he fell silent, inhaling the sweet aroma of tall, green grass. It felt so perfect to his senses, so flawless. The sun's light tinted it with a flawless, sparkling gold, stirring an unknown feeling within his heart.
"We shall follow the Road, from here," the Man was saying in a disappointed tone. "The next town is in Bree, where we must replenish our supplies. The animals seem to stray from us, now, and the dried fruits are diminished to morsels."
Thoron bit his lip, suddenly both wracked with fear and ashamed of that terror.
Aragorn stiffened in front of him, sensing the aura of pain around the fair being.
"It is absolutely necessary, Thoron," he repeated slowly, placing emphasis on each word. "Do you understand? There is no other way. None."
"I understand," the other answered softly. His grip on Estel's waist wavered, and his arms quaked, despite his efforts. The Man rested a gentle hand on his wrist, squeezing it in reassurance.
"I won't let anything happen to you, my friend."
"I know," he whispered, but his thoughts conflicted.
Friend? he wondered with anger. What friend am I? Nay, more to say that he is my caretaker. What good have I ever done for him? I have been ordered to kill him, and he would call me 'friend.' What can I do?
Fight, my Elfling. Fight.
They rode on, the journey harshened by rain and rock-encrusted terrain. As they traveled, and Thoron's time drew to a close, the Elf grew far more nervous and uncertain, wringing his hands in his sleep, his fair brow creased in pain.
All of the pain could end, if he accepted his aid; that he knew well, but his master would surely want something far worse in return.
"We shall enter Bree in the morn," Estel informed him. The Elf sat in front of the fire, coaxing it to life with long twigs. He had a reticent, and was not expected to reply, but he surprised Aragorn by asking a question.
"They would not harm me, would they?" he whispered, spurring orange sparks into the air. The glow illuminated his pale face, and Aragorn realized just how thin and worn he truly was. "They would not give me pain?"
Estel could feel his heart begin to break, but he had no time to reassure him, ere the Orcs attacked.
All at once, they poured into the campsite, like filthy, black water into a dry lake. Aragorn drew his sword, slicing through the beast's thick legs and puncturing its chest. He made sure to keep his back to a sturdy oak, guarding himself from an unexpected blow.
Silently, he calculated his odds. Eleven Orcs in all, he believed, currently forming a ring around the camp. That, at least, was enough to show that they harbored more intelligence than was usual. Their eyes also glittered darkly, yet with a purpose; these Orcs had a master.
Thoron had unsheathed a small, white blade, merely half the length of a sword. His expression was hardened, and somewhat pained. Biting his lip, he stood in the midst of the circle, surrounded by Orcs. Yet no one moved.
One creature stepped from the ring, kicking the carcass of the Orc that Aragorn had slain. His gaze shifted to the Man, ere it lingered on Thoron's ready stance.
"Look here, boys!" he growled with pleasure. "It's the little Elf. Wasn't nearly so brave last time I spied him, or so armed!"
Estel stiffened as the captain walked to his companion. His putrid breath entered Thoron's nose, forcing him to stifle his urges to choke. Jagged nails dug into the soft flesh of his cheek, pinching a flap of skin. With horror, Aragorn realized that the Orc meant to savor this event.
"Why, the Man has been fattening him up!" the Orc exclaimed in his guttural tone. "He's grown chubby in our absence. What a little pig!"
Then his expression hardened, and dug his nails into his cheek, leaving a long slash that streamed with dark blood. Thoron did not move, paralyzed with fear. His grip loosened, and the dagger swung gently within his grip.
"Maim the Man, but don't kill him!" he ordered. "I want to watch his pain!"
With a roar of sickening bloodlust, the circle closed upon Aragorn. Estel cleaved one Orc's head from its shoulders, but another swung its scythe at his neck. Ducking, he sliced its leg off, stabbing it through the heart. The next Orc dug its blade into his arm, ere Aragorn cut through his waist.
'Seven,' he thought grimly, biting his lip in pain. 'Seven left.'
There was a whinny as Thalion broke free of his bindings, crushing two Orcs beneath his hooves. One Orc sliced his brown side, forcing him to collapse, but the remaining four advanced all once.
With a snarl, the nearest Orc deepened Aragorn's wound, forcing his fingers to drop his blade in a clumsiness induced by blood loss. The young Man screamed in pain as his bone was revealed through the laceration, and another sword bit into his thigh, before he was kicked to the ground. The four tied Aragorn through his thrashing, and threw him before their leader.
Uglut smirked, revealing pointed, rotting teeth.
"So," he sneered, "you thought to escape us?"
He cackled, and, beside him, Thoron started to cry.
"Thalion," he sobbed, clutching his chest. "Thalion!"
He started forward, trying to reach his friend's crumbled body. Orcs quickly barred his way, despite his flailing. The Elf began to wail, and the stallion's dying eyes met his own.
Oh, Elfling he whispered. Oh, my dear, precious child.
Thalion! Thoron cried, with such vigor that the horse winced.
My poor baby… the horse murmured. You know that I love you. Do not cry, please, do not cry.
It hurts so badly he answered, his body torn with longing. He yearned so greatly to stroke his friend's fur, and to soothe his agony. I love you too much to let you go. Do not leave me!
If only, my beautiful Elfling Thalion breathed, his voice straining with effort. If only…
His eyes began to mist over, and his breathing slowed.
"No!" Thoron screeched, clawing past the Orcs. But by the time that he reached him, his body was frozen in death, his eyes twisted in pain and longing: he had come too late to pacify him. "Thalion! Thalion!"
Uglut pulled him away, kicking him until his breathing was deep and harsh. Thoron kept sobbing, writhing with torment.
Irritated, Uglut tore his shirt away, revealing thick scars. The Orc removed his whip from his belt, beating him until he lost consciousness, and could no longer scream. Licking his lips with pleasure, he knelt, licking his blood away, and, when the stream had slowed, sucking on his skin until his thirst was satiated.
"Ah," he sighed, and the Orcs laughed with him. "Set up camp, right here! I think that we can afford some fun before returning to the master!"
Cheers rang out, and they chained their prisoners to the trees, though Thoron was kept nearer to Uglut, and given more leeway.
"I'd be damn surprised if he hasn't lost his wits already," the chieftain grumbled, "and if he crawls into my bed…there's no harm done!"
The Orcs laughed, and the hideous sound made Estel's stomach roll. He almost lost his consciousness, but he fought the darkness long enough to tear his shirt for bandaging. As he struggled to halt the endless flow of crimson, his glazing eyes found Thoron's. With a shudder as he watched their dead, frozen depths, he finally fell, plummeting into a sea of numb blue. Ice seeped through his skin, cutting to his marrow. And then he couldn't feel at all.
Whew! It's been a while! And, for once, it wasn't really my fault. My mom didn't want me wasting my time writing on the web when I could be doing homework or extra credit. The deal was that I couldn't start up again until summer vacation. So…
I'M REALLY, REALLY, REALLY SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know how hard it is to wait for a story. And so, to the people who probably don't remember me any longer...the one…the only…
Reviewers!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Zoe: Phew! Your review came in just in time to be posted. Thank you SO much!!!!
leggylover03: Update: check. Estel angst: check. My purpose in life has been temporarily fulfilled! Thanks for reviewing!
marbienl: I always look forward to your reviews! You just really take the time to tell me everything, and I love it so much!!!! Your interpretation of Thalion stroking Estel's neck is interesting, as I was going for a slightly different approach, but to each her own! Yes, it isn't over for Elrond quite yet—he has important business to attend to. Whilst I can't reveal the ending, I can promise you that it will be happy. Thanks a TON for reviewing!!!!
Astievia: Oh, Lord…if I was supposed to post back THEN to avoid death…oops. (Urk)
On the matter of younger sisters…you'd be surprised how plain VIOLENT mine is. She throws heavy objects at my head when I change the channel, let alone when I refuse to bend to her on hand and knee. Thank you so much!
Shanna: ¡Hola otra vez, Shanna! Estoy apesadumbrado que no podría escribir antes. Elrond está teniendo sensaciones pyschic (usted es el único quién notó eso!). ¡Gracias por repasar!
tmelange: thank you.
FlagGirl01: Thank you!!
evil snapple pie: Well, although there is a lot of angst, I hope that I got somewhere during this chapter. Believe me, there's nothing that I'd love to do more in this story than snuggle Thoron nice and tight. Oh, and…(looks back and forth suspiciously) don't tell anyone, but our elfling is going to heal a bit in the next chapter. (humans are good for something) Thanks for the review!
silvertoekee: Thanks! No, Elrond didn't die, but I just HAD to add him in. he looked so lonely, there, all by himself… plus, you have no idea what it was like for me…
FLASHBACK
Me: Good morning, Elrond.
Elrond: (stares at me with puppy-dog eyes)
Me: Okay… (backing away slowly)
Me: Good afternoon, Elrond.
Elrond: (doesn't blink, just stares)
Me: Goodnight, Elrond
Elrond: (puppy eyes)
END FLASHBACK
That may be cute on Legolas, but, to be honest, it's just plain creepy on an ancient Elf.
MorierBlackleaf: Thanks! Here's more!
Elenillor: That wasn't technically a review…oh, well. Thanks!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You guys ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And now, onto my muse!
FBI agents: No! Must…fleeee!
Muse: My own device…tearing my eyeballs…must…run!
(Shrieks and follows the agents in the Gulf)
(All that is left is a pink Carebear, strewn innocently across the dashboard)
May it rest in peace. No, seriously, guys, if my sister finds it…
Chapter Ten: Death of a Father
"He comes."
It was a hiss, silky and cruel. The Orc before him shook with fear, but met his blood-red eyes.
"Shall we send them a greeting, master?"
High-pitched laughter echoed in the great cavern, and the goblin trembled slightly, recalling previous experiences with his lord's cackling.
"Yes," he whispered, "by all means, do so. Do not threaten them with our full muster just yet. Send them a small taste, merely to whet their appetites. Whilst I play with their minds, your Mordraug shall wear them down. Begin with familiar enemies, so that I might gauge their abilities. First, send out wolves, then Orc, followed by Warg Riders. When they are near enough, and skilled enough, send the Mordraug."
"But master," the Orc whimpered. "It seems as though you want them to live-"
Raw pain suddenly coursed through his veins, and he fell to the stone floor, clutching his chest and gasping for breath, even when it ended.
"Yes, you fool!" he cried. "I shall not go unrewarded for my troubles. Once they are wearied at soul, and stronger in body, it shall be better dining to break them, one by one, into slaves. I, too, require substance. I am no god…"
His eyes glittered darkly.
"At least, not yet."
"Yes, master," the filthy beast wheezed as he rose to a kneel. "Soon, the world will know the truth of your dominion. I shall summon Uglut's band, and tell them of their chance to rise in rank. We can afford them, and both he and the others can believe that they have failed at the chance of a lifetime when they breathe their final breaths."
The voice laughed shrilly.
"Ah, Grashnug," he sighed when he was calmed. "You are far more perceptive than the other filth, one of the many reasons why I have appointed you with this task. I give you leave to torture the prisoners tonight, though not to near death, after you inform Uglut of his…mission."
"Yes, master," the Orc answered, eager for his reward.
"You are dismissed."
He shot up, his eyes wide and his face sweaty. Panting heavily, he rose from his bed, grasping a robe and cloaking his body in its warmth. With shaking limbs, he walked to the Great Hall, settling in his favorite armchair, nearest to the fire. Gazing at the comforting orange blur, he managed to catch his hurried breath, smoothing the wrinkles on his once furrowed brow.
The chair had always been a seat of contemplation, of memory. It aided his frantic thoughts, and soothed him.
"Something has happened," Elrond whispered to himself. "Some event has occurred that the Valar did not intend, some wicked power which has escaped…"
He gasped in realization as the answer bobbed to the surface of his thoughts, like a submerged acorn to the sunlit water of a pond.
"Aragorn," he murmured. "It was Aragorn, then."
Rising once more, he strode quickly to the library, eager to drown himself in the text of his oldest scrolls.
Answers needed to be found…and they would be found, tonight.
Elrohir glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye. He couldn't be seen, of course, or Elladan would be angered, but he watched him all the same.
He had heard tales. Every Elf had.
Men who stole, and beat, and took their pleasure, and killed. He had thought that their little Estel, so vulnerable and sweet as a child, would never evolve into such a…beast. But just as the baby Warg grows to a predator, the children of Men grow as well. it wasn't an Estel who had nearly killed his brother, nay. It was a grown Estel, something new, and different, and fierce.
An Aragorn.
Elladan bit his lip, as he had so often, fighting tears. He tore open a scab, and blood trickled down his pale, thin face. Elrohir felt his heart rip.
'Oh, Valar, what he's done to you inside, my brother.'
He might have pardoned Estel for running away, but not for this. Never. Never. This wasn't an Estel to be dealt with, an innocent, sweet baby. This was a new breed, and it would be dealt with differently.
"We should set up camp, brother," he called, and Elladan struggled to mask relief. As he slid from his horse, he stumbled, falling to the ground. Elrohir rushed to catch him, but the other pulled away, grasping the tatters of his torn pride, running to fetch firewood, his cadaverous form melting into the darkness.
He wouldn't have hurt an Estel.
He would kill an Aragorn.
The sunlight suddenly shone on them in a brilliant moment, welcoming them from the Trollshaws. Aragorn smiled, and Thalion neighed in glee, prancing around in the open grass for many long moments ere his rider could calm him.
"Do you think that our nightly visitor was the last of its breed?" Thoron asked softly.
Aragorn would have laughed had he not begun to fear the Elf.
"Nay," he answered gravely. "Many more of its foul kin still roam freely about these lands, brooding in the shadows until an innocent strays into their lair. Others rampage at night, rashly seeking their pray. Naught can be done, I fear, when inflicted by two mere travelers."
One traveler Thoron thought sadly, clenching his fists. Estel killed the beast, not I. I am a worthless coward.
Stop that, little one Thalion ordered, his tail brushing against the other's leg as if in admonishment. Why do you do this to yourself? You must be strong.
Ignoring the wise steed, he fell silent, inhaling the sweet aroma of tall, green grass. It felt so perfect to his senses, so flawless. The sun's light tinted it with a flawless, sparkling gold, stirring an unknown feeling within his heart.
"We shall follow the Road, from here," the Man was saying in a disappointed tone. "The next town is in Bree, where we must replenish our supplies. The animals seem to stray from us, now, and the dried fruits are diminished to morsels."
Thoron bit his lip, suddenly both wracked with fear and ashamed of that terror.
Aragorn stiffened in front of him, sensing the aura of pain around the fair being.
"It is absolutely necessary, Thoron," he repeated slowly, placing emphasis on each word. "Do you understand? There is no other way. None."
"I understand," the other answered softly. His grip on Estel's waist wavered, and his arms quaked, despite his efforts. The Man rested a gentle hand on his wrist, squeezing it in reassurance.
"I won't let anything happen to you, my friend."
"I know," he whispered, but his thoughts conflicted.
Friend? he wondered with anger. What friend am I? Nay, more to say that he is my caretaker. What good have I ever done for him? I have been ordered to kill him, and he would call me 'friend.' What can I do?
Fight, my Elfling. Fight.
They rode on, the journey harshened by rain and rock-encrusted terrain. As they traveled, and Thoron's time drew to a close, the Elf grew far more nervous and uncertain, wringing his hands in his sleep, his fair brow creased in pain.
All of the pain could end, if he accepted his aid; that he knew well, but his master would surely want something far worse in return.
"We shall enter Bree in the morn," Estel informed him. The Elf sat in front of the fire, coaxing it to life with long twigs. He had a reticent, and was not expected to reply, but he surprised Aragorn by asking a question.
"They would not harm me, would they?" he whispered, spurring orange sparks into the air. The glow illuminated his pale face, and Aragorn realized just how thin and worn he truly was. "They would not give me pain?"
Estel could feel his heart begin to break, but he had no time to reassure him, ere the Orcs attacked.
All at once, they poured into the campsite, like filthy, black water into a dry lake. Aragorn drew his sword, slicing through the beast's thick legs and puncturing its chest. He made sure to keep his back to a sturdy oak, guarding himself from an unexpected blow.
Silently, he calculated his odds. Eleven Orcs in all, he believed, currently forming a ring around the camp. That, at least, was enough to show that they harbored more intelligence than was usual. Their eyes also glittered darkly, yet with a purpose; these Orcs had a master.
Thoron had unsheathed a small, white blade, merely half the length of a sword. His expression was hardened, and somewhat pained. Biting his lip, he stood in the midst of the circle, surrounded by Orcs. Yet no one moved.
One creature stepped from the ring, kicking the carcass of the Orc that Aragorn had slain. His gaze shifted to the Man, ere it lingered on Thoron's ready stance.
"Look here, boys!" he growled with pleasure. "It's the little Elf. Wasn't nearly so brave last time I spied him, or so armed!"
Estel stiffened as the captain walked to his companion. His putrid breath entered Thoron's nose, forcing him to stifle his urges to choke. Jagged nails dug into the soft flesh of his cheek, pinching a flap of skin. With horror, Aragorn realized that the Orc meant to savor this event.
"Why, the Man has been fattening him up!" the Orc exclaimed in his guttural tone. "He's grown chubby in our absence. What a little pig!"
Then his expression hardened, and dug his nails into his cheek, leaving a long slash that streamed with dark blood. Thoron did not move, paralyzed with fear. His grip loosened, and the dagger swung gently within his grip.
"Maim the Man, but don't kill him!" he ordered. "I want to watch his pain!"
With a roar of sickening bloodlust, the circle closed upon Aragorn. Estel cleaved one Orc's head from its shoulders, but another swung its scythe at his neck. Ducking, he sliced its leg off, stabbing it through the heart. The next Orc dug its blade into his arm, ere Aragorn cut through his waist.
'Seven,' he thought grimly, biting his lip in pain. 'Seven left.'
There was a whinny as Thalion broke free of his bindings, crushing two Orcs beneath his hooves. One Orc sliced his brown side, forcing him to collapse, but the remaining four advanced all once.
With a snarl, the nearest Orc deepened Aragorn's wound, forcing his fingers to drop his blade in a clumsiness induced by blood loss. The young Man screamed in pain as his bone was revealed through the laceration, and another sword bit into his thigh, before he was kicked to the ground. The four tied Aragorn through his thrashing, and threw him before their leader.
Uglut smirked, revealing pointed, rotting teeth.
"So," he sneered, "you thought to escape us?"
He cackled, and, beside him, Thoron started to cry.
"Thalion," he sobbed, clutching his chest. "Thalion!"
He started forward, trying to reach his friend's crumbled body. Orcs quickly barred his way, despite his flailing. The Elf began to wail, and the stallion's dying eyes met his own.
Oh, Elfling he whispered. Oh, my dear, precious child.
Thalion! Thoron cried, with such vigor that the horse winced.
My poor baby… the horse murmured. You know that I love you. Do not cry, please, do not cry.
It hurts so badly he answered, his body torn with longing. He yearned so greatly to stroke his friend's fur, and to soothe his agony. I love you too much to let you go. Do not leave me!
If only, my beautiful Elfling Thalion breathed, his voice straining with effort. If only…
His eyes began to mist over, and his breathing slowed.
"No!" Thoron screeched, clawing past the Orcs. But by the time that he reached him, his body was frozen in death, his eyes twisted in pain and longing: he had come too late to pacify him. "Thalion! Thalion!"
Uglut pulled him away, kicking him until his breathing was deep and harsh. Thoron kept sobbing, writhing with torment.
Irritated, Uglut tore his shirt away, revealing thick scars. The Orc removed his whip from his belt, beating him until he lost consciousness, and could no longer scream. Licking his lips with pleasure, he knelt, licking his blood away, and, when the stream had slowed, sucking on his skin until his thirst was satiated.
"Ah," he sighed, and the Orcs laughed with him. "Set up camp, right here! I think that we can afford some fun before returning to the master!"
Cheers rang out, and they chained their prisoners to the trees, though Thoron was kept nearer to Uglut, and given more leeway.
"I'd be damn surprised if he hasn't lost his wits already," the chieftain grumbled, "and if he crawls into my bed…there's no harm done!"
The Orcs laughed, and the hideous sound made Estel's stomach roll. He almost lost his consciousness, but he fought the darkness long enough to tear his shirt for bandaging. As he struggled to halt the endless flow of crimson, his glazing eyes found Thoron's. With a shudder as he watched their dead, frozen depths, he finally fell, plummeting into a sea of numb blue. Ice seeped through his skin, cutting to his marrow. And then he couldn't feel at all.
Whew! It's been a while! And, for once, it wasn't really my fault. My mom didn't want me wasting my time writing on the web when I could be doing homework or extra credit. The deal was that I couldn't start up again until summer vacation. So…
I'M REALLY, REALLY, REALLY SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know how hard it is to wait for a story. And so, to the people who probably don't remember me any longer...the one…the only…
Reviewers!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Zoe: Phew! Your review came in just in time to be posted. Thank you SO much!!!!
leggylover03: Update: check. Estel angst: check. My purpose in life has been temporarily fulfilled! Thanks for reviewing!
marbienl: I always look forward to your reviews! You just really take the time to tell me everything, and I love it so much!!!! Your interpretation of Thalion stroking Estel's neck is interesting, as I was going for a slightly different approach, but to each her own! Yes, it isn't over for Elrond quite yet—he has important business to attend to. Whilst I can't reveal the ending, I can promise you that it will be happy. Thanks a TON for reviewing!!!!
Astievia: Oh, Lord…if I was supposed to post back THEN to avoid death…oops. (Urk)
On the matter of younger sisters…you'd be surprised how plain VIOLENT mine is. She throws heavy objects at my head when I change the channel, let alone when I refuse to bend to her on hand and knee. Thank you so much!
Shanna: ¡Hola otra vez, Shanna! Estoy apesadumbrado que no podría escribir antes. Elrond está teniendo sensaciones pyschic (usted es el único quién notó eso!). ¡Gracias por repasar!
tmelange: thank you.
FlagGirl01: Thank you!!
evil snapple pie: Well, although there is a lot of angst, I hope that I got somewhere during this chapter. Believe me, there's nothing that I'd love to do more in this story than snuggle Thoron nice and tight. Oh, and…(looks back and forth suspiciously) don't tell anyone, but our elfling is going to heal a bit in the next chapter. (humans are good for something) Thanks for the review!
silvertoekee: Thanks! No, Elrond didn't die, but I just HAD to add him in. he looked so lonely, there, all by himself… plus, you have no idea what it was like for me…
FLASHBACK
Me: Good morning, Elrond.
Elrond: (stares at me with puppy-dog eyes)
Me: Okay… (backing away slowly)
Me: Good afternoon, Elrond.
Elrond: (doesn't blink, just stares)
Me: Goodnight, Elrond
Elrond: (puppy eyes)
END FLASHBACK
That may be cute on Legolas, but, to be honest, it's just plain creepy on an ancient Elf.
MorierBlackleaf: Thanks! Here's more!
Elenillor: That wasn't technically a review…oh, well. Thanks!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You guys ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And now, onto my muse!
FBI agents: No! Must…fleeee!
Muse: My own device…tearing my eyeballs…must…run!
(Shrieks and follows the agents in the Gulf)
(All that is left is a pink Carebear, strewn innocently across the dashboard)
May it rest in peace. No, seriously, guys, if my sister finds it…