To Walk In Night

by Nili

Just before Aragorn should travel back to Rivendell, a Mirkwood patrol is attacked and Legolas captured. When Aragorn finally finds him and his captors, both come to realise that a dark force is stirring in Rhûn that might destroy all they hold dear.

13. Lengthening Shadows

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.

A/N:

Well, it's nice to see that you missed Celylith and the twins so much! Everything should get much more interesting now - even though you're right, I am _definitely_ beginning to pity Glorfindel. It's a miracle the poor elf survived the journey over the Misty Mountains in more or less his right state of mind... *g* Poor Glorfindel.

Uhm, yes, I have an announcement to make. *dons metal armour* You know what I told you about elf torture in chapter 14? I lied. Well, not "lie" as in "consciously deceive" but, well, most of it is in chapter 15 now. I'm sorry, and I didn't do it on purpose. I simply refuse to write chapters which are longer than 15 to 17 pages (unless at the end of a story, when I'm desperate to end the whole thing), so there was no other choice than to put most of it into the next chapter. There's some in chapter 14 though, but nothing bad, sorry. You're far too bloodthirsty anyway. So, I hope you'll forgive me. *innocent smile*

There also is a pattern beginning to become visible, isn't it? I mean, Aragorn was in chapter 11, Legolas was in chapter 12, and this is chapter 13. Yes, bingo, that means that there'll be no Legolas in this chapter, you're right. Give the man/girl a cigar! BUT he'll be back in the next one, and BOTH of them shall be in chapter 14 and 15. That's something, right? *watches enraged Legolas fans with wide eyes* Right? Oh, and that should also answer the question of when Aragorn is going to find Legolas. *g*

Alright, enough talking. The next chapter's here, and we'll see the evil lord! I told you he'd be in this story! *g* Other than that, we have a few little conversations between various people, Celylith and the twins' party arrive at the palace, and Aragorn finds out that some things are more beautiful than others. *g* I love to be cryptic.

Enjoy and review, please!

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Chapter 13

At the same time that Celylith awoke and found that the twins had somehow stolen his bow in the night and had buried it in a snow drift where it had frozen to a branch, a servant opened the door of a pigeonry and saw to his surprise that there was one more pigeon sitting on the wooden beams than when he had last been here, namely the day before.

The man was greatly puzzled for a few moments, and while he was trying to get a hold of the bird that had apparently arrived last night, he tried to remember which messages were due. There were none, he thought in confusion, but grinned broadly when he managed to trap the newly arrived pigeon between the back wall of the wooden construction and his hand.

He quickly lifted the bird out of the pigeonry and loosened the cords that attached the small, bronze cylinder to one of the animal's legs. A second later he released the pigeon that fluttered into the remotest corner of the cage, its feathers slightly ruffled and sticking out at odd angles.

The man eyed the cylinder curiously. No messages were expected at the moment, at least none he could think of at the moment. Who could be sending his liege a letter? A second later his eyes fell on the small symbol etched into the metal, the symbol that told anyone who knew the system which captain this message was from.

The servant felt how the blood left his face. O Gods, what had he done to deserve this? He knew this symbol, he had been praying for days not to be the one on duty when this message finally arrived. The possibility that it did arrive at all had diminished with each passing day however, and so his and colleagues' anxiety and fear had diminished as well. And now here it was; there was no mistaking it.

No, there was indeed no doubt about it, the man decided as he slipped the tiny cylinder into one of his pockets and ordered his assistant to finish their work here. This was Reran's sign, the sign he had inherited from the former highest ranking captain who had died some time ago on a mission, Adruran. He would recognise the small symbol anywhere for he had often carried such a message directly to his lord when he had been awaiting a report from Adruran and his men. Letters bearing this symbol were always of prime importance and were to be brought to their lord immediately, without delay.

As if moving in a trance, the man climbed down the ladder that led down from the pigeonry to the snow-covered ground and began to make his way over to the main building, not really noticing that several of the other servants were giving him looks of sympathy. He was emitting the air of a person about to ascend the scaffold; an air every single one of this town's inhabitants knew all too well, and as much pity as the other might feel for him, there was none who would have willingly taken his place. Everything was better than having to deliver bad news to their liege.

A small voice inside the man's head insisted that it might not be necessarily bad news, that it was well possible that Reran and his men had been successful and were already on their way back. Right, he snorted as he climbed the stairs leading to the main doors and passed the guards without question due to his livery. Of course it was possible that Reran had succeeded, but then again, there was the very likely possibility that he had not. And if there was one thing he didn't want, it was being the bearer of such news.

With a deep sigh the man consented himself to his fate and made his way through the winding corridors of the large stone building to his lord's chambers that took up most of the space on this level. Before he rounded the last corner, he stopped shortly and took a deep breath, sending a quick prayer to the Gods to at least grant him a quick death if he had to die.

After a moment, he forced his face into an emotionless mask and rounded the corner, quickly walking over to the large wooden doors that led to his lord's study. The guards posted there didn't stop him either once he held up the small messenger tube, and so the servant raised a slightly trembling hand to knock.

For a short, fleeting moment no sound could be heard from inside his liege's rooms, and a fervent hope began to grow in the man's heart. Could it be that his lord was not here? That he was away or with one of his mistresses? It was a most pleasant vision indeed, one that could not last of course. A second later the gruff, impatient voice of his lord rang out, sounding none too pleased at being disturbed.

"Yes!? Come in, in the Gods' name!"

Rigid with fear, the servant shot the guards a frantic look, but all he received in return was an identical, gleeful grin that could be seen on both the men's faces. Damn them and their whole lot to whatever dark abysses there were, he thought enraged, and with the fury burning hotly in his veins he found the courage to open the doors and enter his lord's study.

The first thing he noticed was how dark it was; something that never failed to surprise him. Their home might not exactly be a cheerful, bright place, and only a most depressed person would ever call it beautiful, but this room was extraordinary even for this place. It was black, completely, utterly black. There were some accessories like drapes, curtains and chandeliers were of a somewhat lighter colour, a dark grey of sorts, but the floor and the furniture were black as night. Even the walls and the ceiling appeared to be black on first sight, since the stone was covered with dark, wooden panelling that time and the smoke of countless candles and open fires in the hearth had turned a dark brown colour. Even the sunlight that streamed through the two windows set into the outer wall seemed to have trouble piercing the gloom that filled the room.

All in all, the servant thought dryly, only to be mortified by his own mental boldness, it was a setting only befitting the man occupying it.

The man who was lord of this place and so much more beyond it looked up unwillingly from the papers that were strewn across the polished surface of his black desk and gave the servant who had just entered the room a glare as dark as the floor the other was standing on.

"This had better be important," he advised the other man darkly. "I hear Glamir needs a new project, and if you have come to bother me with trivialities, I would be more than willing to supply him with one. You."

The servant felt how the fear in his heart multiplied at the mere mention of that name. If there was one person who was as feared as their lord, it was Glamir. No-one did actually know where he had been born, but he had come here with some merchants from Northern Gondor about five years ago. Just as shrouded as his origins was his former occupation, even though it wasn't that hard to guess. The man gulped. Glamir was his liege's master torturer, and was said to be a master of his craft. Then again, he added dryly, he had yet to meet someone who had been one of Glamir's "projects" and had lived to tell the tale, or had lived to make any statements about his abilities and the quality of his work.

The man tore his thought away from that not very pleasant topic and bowed before his lord, careful not to meet the other's fiery glare. It was common knowledge that he had once had a guard executed for the way the man had looked at him.

"A message arrived with one of the carrier pigeons during the night, my lord," the servant answered tonelessly.

"And for that you disturb me?" his lord thundered, his dark eyes darkening even further so that they turned the same colour as his black suede tunic. "I think Glamir will be most pleased indeed."

"But, sire!" the servant added desperately. "It is from Captain Reran."

The dark-clad man who had obviously been about to say something – something uncomplimentary – fell silent, an uneasy, tense silence that only served to terrify the already very terrified servant even more. It appeared that he had already forgotten that he was not alone in the room since he slowly rose to his feet and walked over to the window, letting his eyes wander over the busy courtyard.

The servant felt his unease increase, something he had thought impossible. He had no point of reference for this behaviour; what was he supposed to do? Stay and hope his lord had forgotten about him? Leave the message here and leave? O the Gods, why him? He should have listened to his mother and joined the guard corps! But then again, he thought darkly, they usually didn't live long either; one only had to look at Adruran's men who had died, all of them, only a few months back.

Finally, when it became apparent that the dark haired man at the window did not intend to move any time soon, he decided to take the risk – and make most probably the worst mistake of his life, but if he didn't do something soon, his heart would give out anyway.

"My lord?" he questioned softly, wincing openly when the other man cocked his head to the side and began to turn around. Alright, he thought. Here went nothing. "The message?"

The dark haired man blinked twice, and the other noticed with some surprise that, somehow, the pale sunlight that filtered through the half-covered window appeared to be swallowed by his dark figure.
"Give it to me."

The man stepped forward and offered his lord the small bronze cylinder, quickly taking a step backwards again when the other man took it up and opened it with slow, controlled movements. For a moment, the servant contemplated if he should leave the room to give his lord the opportunity to read the letter in private, but quickly decided against it. His liege might kill him if the news was bad, but he would most certainly kill him for leaving the room without permission.

For long moments it was silent in the room, and nothing could be heard except the small, rustling sounds of the thin paper when the dark-clad man moved ever so slightly. The courtyard was too far down for the almost hectic sounds of the bustling soldiers that hastened to and fro to be audible, and so the silence was stifling and heavy and threatened to rob the servant of the last shreds of his composure he had still left – which weren't too many.

After half an eternity – the servant would later swear that he had aged at least twenty years during that time – the dark haired man looked up from the message, dark brown eyes gleaming with something that could only be described as complete, all-consuming satisfaction. He once again looked down on the few sentences that had clearly been written in great haste, and seemed to come to a decision as he lifted his head again to look the cowering servant in the eye.

"Get me the war council," he ordered curtly. "I want them here in ten minutes."

"Yes, my lord," the other man answered automatically, not even bothering to think about how he should manage to find the eight members of the war council on such short notice and bring them here in ten minutes. The gratitude that had swept through his heart when he had realised that the news had indeed been good news was quickly replaced with dread.

"And in two hours I want to see the ambassadors," his lord went on, already walking back to his desk. He looked up to give the other man who looked as if his world had just turned upside down a hard, flinty look. "All of them, no exceptions. You may tell them that I will be most displeased if they don't appear here at the appointed time."

The other man returned his liege's gaze blankly, too shocked to avert his eyes. How in the name of all the Gods was he supposed to do that? The ambassadors that had been called here a month ago were notoriously hard to convince to do anything, especially to appear anywhere they did not want to be. They were proud, brutal people who seemed to delight to make war on anyone they came across. The worst thing was that they not only fought outsiders, they also fought one another so that it was nigh impossible to get the ambassador of the northern tribes to stay in the same room as the ambassador of the western tribe, and if the ambassador of the tribe living closest to the great lake entered the picture, it was a guarantee for bloodshed.

Once again the servant found himself answering automatically.
"Yes, sire."

It was the only possible answer anyway; the only possible answer that guaranteed your continued survival, that was. His lord waved his hand in dismissal, but before he could turn fully around, the other man remembered something and decided to rather chance his lord's wrath now than to be held accountable later.
"My lord, what about Lord Súliat's delegates? Are they to appear before you as well?"

The dark haired man thought hard for a moment. His mysterious benefactor's emissaries had arrived barely a week ago and had seldom left the quarters they had been assigned, and if they did, they did it only to inspect the army's training. It was a behaviour that was beginning to bother him slightly, but then again, considering the amount of money their lord was willing to provide, they were probably entitled to a few eccentricities.

"No," he finally answered, returning to the present. "No, I want to see them later, at sunset. It is time we discussed a few things. Have them informed that I expect their presence at dinner. You may go now."

"Yes, my lord," the servant repeated and bowed deeply before turning on his heel and disappearing so quickly that one would have been hard-pressed to say where exactly he had gone.

The other man hardly noticed his departure for his eyes remained firmly fixed on the slip of parchment he still held, his mind already a hundred miles and at least three battles away. So he had really done it, he mused, Reran had succeeded. If he was perfectly honest, he hadn't expected the older man to send a message – or make it back alive for that matter – but Reran had apparently managed to do so; perhaps Teonvan had even helped, who knew.

Well, there were only two important points to this, namely that Reran had succeeded and that he himself hadn't made an error of judgement. He had known that Reran hadn't been happy about having been forced to take the brown haired commander with him, but once again it appeared that he had been right about whom to choose for which task.

His thoughts returned to the letter, or rather the message, for there were only two hastily scribbled lines of tilted and somewhat tremulous letters that looked very much as if the hand that had written them was not used to using ink and pen but rather sword and spear. The dark haired man's eyes fell on the part of the message that caused the feelings of satisfaction and complacency to swell once again in his heart. "Mission accomplished. Will return with our guest in approximately ten days."

There were a few more clipped, inelegant sentences, but they were of little importance compared to these, yet he couldn't help but read the entire message again and again. Finally, after all these years his family and he had waited! Reran had managed to capture an elf and was bringing him here; that was the last thing he had been waiting for before he could set his plans into motion…

Yes, he concluded after a moment, now was the time to bring the ambassadors into this. He would need their answer now; otherwise valuable time would be wasted. Reran had said in his letter that he would arrive in about ten days, and he would already have included possible delays. The pigeon had arrived yesterday, plus one and a half or two days it would have needed to get here … that meant his men would arrive here in about a week. With the elf.

A large grin once again wanted to show on his face, but the man pushed it back, reminding himself of the fact that even if Reran and the others got here and if the elf knew what he wanted to know and if everything else went according to plan (and he had learned that it never did), it would be anything but easy to go through with his plans. If he failed, everything all the generations of his family before him and he himself had worked for would be for nothing, and all his lands would fall into ruin.

Ah well, he shrugged inwardly, he didn't care in the slightest what happened to the rest of the world if he was dead. He would get what he deserved, what they deserved, and if the elf didn't help him, he would regret it dearly, and he would find another way.

No-one would be able to stop him, least of all the Elves. He was not interested in them anyway; all he wanted was what he was entitled to, nothing more.

And that, he thought darkly while he waited for his war council to arrive, was quite a lot.

++++++++++

The shadows of the dark, almost black trees were lengthening, and the gloom that filled the space between the treetops and the forest floor began to intensify. Everyone who had been to Mirkwood once knew what these signs meant: Dusk was quickly approaching, and in a matter of minutes it would be too dark to see your hand in front of your eyes.

That, however, was a development Celylith could very well live with, especially when one considered the way the twins were grinning once again. The silver haired elf growled. If it hadn't been for Lord Glorfindel and the other warriors, he would have killed them, both of them, without the slightest hesitation. Slowly. Painfully. Permanently.

They had touched his bow. By the Valar, they had not only touched it, they had stuck it into a snowdrift! Celylith's expression darkened even further, giving him the distinct appearance of Sauron on a bad day. How dare they! Didn't these Noldor know anything? No-one touched a wood-elf's weapons, no-one, and no-one stuck them in a snowdrift of all things!

When he had woken up this morning and looked into the faces of these little orcs where barely controlled hilarity had been plain to see, he had known that trouble was afoot. He had of course not thought that they would do something like this – his bow! How could they!! Annoyance and anger once again welled up inside of him. To remove that piece of wood from his weapon without damaging it had been hard enough, and Ilúvatar alone knew what other damage his bow had suffered by spending a night in the wet, cold snow.

Oh, he thought darkly, he would get them back for this. He knew that Legolas was still looking for a way to avenge himself on the twins who had glued his spare knives to their sheaths, and miraculously he was more than willing to help his lord all of the sudden. He would of course participate in whatever scheme his prince had devised, but just in case Legolas hadn't thought of anything yet, he was more than willing to supply him with a few ideas. He had had more than enough time to come up with some after all, and right now the mental image of two bound twins being burrowed in a snowdrift – scantily clad, of course, his bow hadn't had any clothes either – figured most prominently in his mind.

Celylith amused himself with that particular idea for a few moments, a part of him still staying alert and cautious, now more so than during the past hours since nightfall was upon them. This was the favourite time of many predators to attack, when their intended prey was unable to see properly in the growing twilight, and he would be damned if he allowed his king's guests to be eaten by wolves, spiders, wargs or things of the like. Even if that meant not allowing the twins to be eaten, either; this was, unfortunately, not a perfect world.

There was still the tiny, nagging unease however, an unease that refused to be appeased. By now he knew that the bad feeling had not been about the twins' arrival; there was something wrong with Legolas or Aragorn or both, he just knew it. It was one reason why he was in such a bad mood that none of the Imladris elves had made a move to draw him into a conversation; the other reason why he was exceptionally ill-tempered was the fact that the twins had touched his bow, naturally. For which they would pay, oh yes, they would, that he vowed by Elbereth's stars.

Celylith sighed inwardly. There was no telling what that reckless human and his equally reckless prince had got themselves into this time; he was jut hoping that he would get there in time to somehow help them escape Mandos' Halls once again. Ha, he thought after a moment, when had he ever been quick enough to protect his prince? Surely not in the last few centuries, and probably not even before that. Besides, this feeling had started nearly three days ago, so whatever trouble one or both of them were into, it would probably be far beyond his aid already. It always was.

His uneasy feelings reaching new, unheard-of dimensions, the young elf forced himself to return his attention to the road, which proved to be a good thing since he noticed that they were merely ten to fifteen minutes away from the beginning of the broad alley that would take them to the front gates of his king's palace. He gave a small sigh of relief. He would be home in twenty minutes and would finally find out what was going on and what he could do to help Legolas. Even if he was too late to prevent his liege's son to get himself into trouble, he would get him out of it, in Eru's name!

He was so lost in his musings that he didn't realise that a horse had moved next to his, and when a half-worried, half-amused voice spoke up, it nearly caused him to reach for his still-not-completely-dry-bow.

"A fine guardian you make, mellon nín. Even that abominable pet of yours could have travelled with us and you wouldn't have noticed."

Celylith smiled ruefully and turned his head slightly to look Elrohir in the eye who seemed to blend into the growing twilight with his grey cloak and dark hair.
"I imagine you are right, Elrohir, at least this time. I am sorry."

The younger twin blinked; an admission of his distraction had been the last thing he had expected from the other elf.
"Of course I am right, Celylith," he declared haughtily, somehow managing to look like both his father and the Lady Galadriel for a moment. "Sons of Elrond are always right. It's in our blood."

"Of course," Celylith agreed, a wicked glint creeping into his eyes, his bad feeling almost forgotten for once. It refused to dissipate completely though and continued hovering at the back of his mind like a dark, malicious cloud. "Along with arrogance, general incompetence, clumsiness and the inability to hit a target that's ten feet away from you."

"Careful, wood-elf, careful," Elrohir advised him darkly, even though his eyes gleamed mischievously. "You are less than ten feet away from me, and I suddenly feel the nearly irresistible urge to try and put an arrow through your head. I just might hit you."

"'Might' being the main word here," Celylith grinned. "Neither you nor that older brother of yours could hit an orc if it were standing right in front of you. In fact," he added, moving his horse slightly to the side when he saw the burning look in the younger twin's eyes, "I do believe that out of the three of you Estel is the only one who shows some talent. If he were an elf and we had a few hundred years, I could make a fine archer out of him." He fell silent for a moment, as if seriously contemplating the matter. "I would of course have to correct all those 'techniques' the two of you taught him, but then…"

"Go on, Celylith, please," Elrohir smiled friendly, a smile that suddenly reminded the silver haired elf that the other elf was, after all, related to Lord Elrond. There was no-one who could awaken terror in your heart with a simple look quite like the half-elven lord of Rivendell. "Surely there is more you would wish to share?"

"No," Celylith said quickly, returning the twin's false smile. "Not at all, my friend, I believe my point has been made." He thought quickly, trying to come up with a safe topic. "Where is your brother?"

Elrohir gave him a pitiful look, conveying with a simple glance that he was perfectly aware of the fact that Celylith was trying to change the topic in a particularly pathetic manner and that he wouldn't forget his words in the near future either.
"He's bringing up the rear with Glorfindel and making sure our fearless Balrog Slayer stays where he is, too. I wanted to talk to you alone."

The other elf frowned and cast a quick look about them. Really, they were riding at the head of the small column alone, even though it was quite hard to make out anything in the falling darkness. It appeared that the next Imladris warrior was twenty paces behind them, and at the very back he could even spy a glimpse of Lord Glorfindel's golden hair. Celylith's frown deepened. The twins were indeed far too sneaky and sly for their own good.

"Whatever for, my friend?" he asked, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. He could still remember the twins' unbelieving, scathing looks they had given him yesterday night when he had told them what had transpired in Lake-town, Dale and, more recently, at the banks of the Forest River, and he had even learned some new Dwarvish curses the two of them had muttered in regular intervals – several times each, one might add. If this was another lecture about how he should have looked after Aragorn better, he would kill Elrohir. Slowly. Painfully. Permanently.

He looked innocently at the elven twin, who, however, didn't start lecturing him or threatening to kill him in the most gruesome way imaginable – as Elladan had yesterday night. He had quickly regained his composure and apologised, of course, admitting that it wasn't Celylith's fault in the slightest, something about which the silver haired elf wasn't completely sure himself.

"We know you better than you think, son of Celythramir," Elrohir began seriously, his eyes catching the younger elf's gaze. "There is something amiss, and I do not mean your bow or that little prank you pulled on us yesterday. You have been … anxious about something and ill at ease ever since we met. You are worried about something. Or someone."

"I do not know what you mean, my lord," Celylith shook his head defensively, suddenly uncomfortable about having to admit these ill feelings to someone, even to one of the twins.

The dark haired elf simply continued looking at him, grey eyes boring into dark blue ones with quiet intensity.
"Do you not trust me, Celylith?" he questioned softly, a hurt expression appearing and disappearing quickly on his face. "Do you not trust us? Do you know us so little that you think we would not believe you? That I or my brother would slight you for whatever may be the reason for your unease?"

"No!" Celylith quickly reached out and laid a hand on the other elf's forearm. "No, of course not! Legolas trusts you, and even if I knew nothing else about you, that would be enough. Yet I know you as well, and I trust you, with my family's and my lords' lives."

"Then what is it?" Elrohir frowned slightly at the clearly distraught elf in front of him, beginning to get a very bad feeling himself. The silver haired elf had done a good job hiding his true feelings and acting as if nothing was wrong, but for anyone who knew him the charade was anything but convincing. His frown deepened. Celylith was one of the most cheerful elves he knew, and to see him agitated like this simply couldn't be a good sign. And considering their luck, it was probably a very bad sign, too.

"I don't know," the other elf shook his head helplessly, fear, annoyance and anger warring in his eyes. "Elentári, I do not know, and it is beginning to drive me insane!"

"Celylith," the younger twin said calmly, skilfully masking his own mounting worry, "You are not making much sense."

For a moment, the silver haired elf's old merriment could be seen in his gleaming eyes.
"No, I suppose I am not, mellon nín." He fell silent for a moment, obviously trying to bring order into his thoughts. "It … well, it began nearly three days ago. I had just reached Beorn's when I suddenly got the feeling that something was wrong. I cannot explain it or specify it, yet I have the feeling that I am needed at home. I don't know what it means; it was suddenly there, as if someone had reached into my head and turned it on."

"Do you have such feelings often?" Elrohir asked quietly. "Are you or any of your family foresighted?"

"No, and that is what worries me," Celylith shook his head. "Neither I or any of my kin have ever had a real vision, and I am far too old for something like that to develop now."

Elrohir nodded his head slowly. The few elves who were truly gifted with foresight developed their talents when they matured, that was something he and his brother had both found out first-hand, and Celylith was several millennia past his maturity.
"Then what do you think it means? Who is the one in danger?"

The silver haired elf closed his eyes only to open them again a second later, looking at the twin with a tormented expression on his face
"Do I really have to tell you?"

Elrohir sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes, the feelings of dread that had grown in the pit of his stomach spreading into the rest of his body.
"Which one of them?"

Celylith bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes troubled and dark as they surveyed their surroundings with the practised gaze of an experienced warrior.
"Both," he answered curtly. "Legolas most definitely, and when the prince is in danger…"

"…Estel is as well," Elrohir finished tiredly. "I know." He stared into nothing for a moment before he turned to the side again to look at his silver haired companion. "How do they do it? How? You leave them for a few months, and what do they do?"

"Jump into every even remotely dangerous situation they can find," Celylith answered darkly. "I swear they do it on purpose, simply to scare me to the Halls of Mandos before my time."

"Or us, my friend, or us," Elrohir shook his head, an equally dark expression on his troubled face. It appeared that he wanted to say more, but it was then that they reached the beginning of the broad alley that led up to the palace.

The conversation died quickly as they passed first a second, then a second and finally a third group of warriors whose faces were unreadable and who quickly let them pass with small, respectful bows when they realised who the travellers were. Warriors, Celylith noticed with increasing worry, who shouldn't even be here.

It was most unusual to meet not only one, but three groups of openly stationed guards between the beginning of the alley and the great gates, for even though the road was several hundred yards long, there rarely was the need for such extensive safety measures since there were always one or two guard contingents hidden in the trees next to the path. It had been a long time since he had last seen this many warriors in the fields outside the palace, to be precise ever since that large goblin invasion more than two centuries ago.

The silver haired elf gulped and did his best to remain calm as they made their way over to the gates, moving at a far too dignified and slow pace for his liking. This was not good; Elbereth, this was downright bad, no, not even that. It was worse.

After a few more minutes that felt like an eternity to Celylith they reached the gates and quickly passed them, yet not before he saw the many dark countenances and grief-stricken faces. His feelings of dread multiplied exponentially when they reached the snow-covered inner courtyard and there was no fair haired elven prince or dark haired ranger standing on the steps to the place to greet them with a smile and an impish sparkle in his eyes.

'A Elbereth, what have they got themselves into this time…'

There was, however, a small delegation of high-ranking elves standing on the marble steps, led by Lord Celythramir, his father, yet another thing that was definitely not a good sign.

The silver haired elf lord gave his son a smile and a quick nod – something which served to worry Celylith even more, since his father wasn't exactly known for public displays of affection – before he turned his attention to his king's guests who had just dismounted and were watching as their horses were led away into the direction of the stables.

"Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir, Lord Glorfindel," he said with a slight bow that was mirrored by the other elves standing behind him. "In the name of King Thranduil, welcome to Mirkwood."

The entire Imladris delegation returned the bow, and the golden haired warrior gave the other elf a small, taxing smile, his eyes calculating as he looked about the courtyard where far more warriors than usual could be seen.

"Thank you, Lord Celythramir," Glorfindel said, slowly letting his gaze wander over the courtyard. "We have already met with one of your warriors who graciously escorted us here. For that you have our thanks."

"I am glad to hear that," the other elf replied, fatherly pride shining in his eyes for a moment before the odd, dark look Celylith had never before seen in his father's eyes returned and crushed it. He made a sweeping motion with his hand, inviting the Noldor to walk up to the palace. "Yet there is no thanks needed; you are our honoured guests. The king is most eager to speak with you – unless you want to recover from your journey first, of course…"

"No," Glorfindel quickly shook his head after trading a quick look with the twins who were looking increasingly impatient and worried at their human brother's continued absence. "No, my lord, that will not be necessary. I think it would be most beneficial if we talked to Lord Thranduil now. It appears that there is something amiss in your realm."

"You could not be more right," Celythramir bowed his head as they walked up the stairs. "Suitable quarters have already been made ready for your company. I am sure you will find them satisfactory."

He fell silent again and they climbed the remaining stairs in silence, Celylith eyeing the stones in a mixture of fear and anxiety. His father had never been one to evade a question or twist an answer, unlike other advisors he knew. If he was behaving like this, it could only mean that the king had ordered him not to divulge anything to their guests, and that in turn could mean only one thing: There was something seriously wrong here.

A second later, they reached the doors leading to the main building and turned left where the audience chambers were located, and that was the point when Elladan finally lost what was left of his patience. Elrohir had informed him in a few words of what Celylith had told him, and only a blind or completely daft person would not have noticed the hopeless, distraught air that hung over the Elvenking's halls like a dark cloud.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said politely, stepping up to Celythramir as their warriors were being led off into a different part of the building. "Where is our brother, or Prince Legolas for that matter? What has befallen your kingdom?"

The king's advisor stopped suddenly and turned back to his lord's guests, green eyes dark and sad and filled with a grief any of them were at a loss to explain or understand.
"Great ill, Lord Elladan. An ill I had hoped never to witness, for the sake of this realm and for the sake of my king." He gave the twins an unreadable look and bowed his head briefly. "For what it is worth: I am sorry."

Ignoring the half-shocked, half-terrified looks the three elf lords gave him, he turned back around and walked up to the great doors that led to the audience chambers, opening them and motioning them to step closer.
"The king will explain everything, my lords. He is waiting."

The twins and Glorfindel traded a look before they began to quickly close the distance between them and the doors, and a second later they were disappearing through the wooden doors into the large chamber where the King of Mirkwood held court. Celylith waited for the others to precede him and stopped at the threshold, noticing with only one ear how his friends and their father's blonde advisor were announced by the herald.

"Father?" he asked in a low voice, looking at the other silver haired elf who had stopped at the doors as well. "What is going on? Where is Legolas? What is the meaning of this?"

Celythramir simply looked at him blindly before taking two steps forward and enveloping the younger elf in a firm hug, oblivious to the guards that were standing left and right of the doors.
"Thank the Valar you have arrived safely, ion nín," he whispered into his stunned son's ear. "When you did not arrive at noon as you should have, we were beginning to get worried."

Celylith blinked twice before returning his father's embrace, doing his best to ignore the small voice that was having a fit inside his skull. They had been worried about him? He had been only a few hours late! Why would they have been worried? What could make his father behave like this?

"I am sorry, ada," he replied, his voice slightly muffled by the other's heavy robes. "It was the snow storm; I travelled as fast as I could."

"I know," his father nodded and slowly stepped back, green eyes fixed on the younger elf's confused face. "I know you did. I thank Elbereth nothing happened to you."

The worry in Celylith's heart grew even more, threatening to suffocate him. His father was rather protective, yes, but it was highly unusual for him to behave as if he had just avoided certain death when he had merely been a few hours late!

"What is going on here, father?" he repeated his earlier words. "Where are Legolas and Estel? What is wrong? Why are there so many warriors around the palace? Has there been an attack?"

The king's advisor didn't answer and avoided his son's eyes, something that caused the fear and worry in the younger elf's heart to swiftly develop into panic.

"Father!!" he exclaimed, unable to keep the panic and alarm out of his voice. "I beg you, tell me! Where – is – Legolas?"

Celythramir raised his head to look at his son, and when he began to speak a moment later, Celylith found out that things were much worse than even he could have imagined.

++++++++++

He was beginning to lose hope.

It was a slow, sneaking process, a process that had been going on for quite some time, precisely ever since he had left the palace. At first it had been easy to ignore it, but the more time passed and the further he travelled the harder it became.

Aragorn scowled at his surroundings, something that, had his surroundings been sentient, would not have surprised them in the slightest, for he had been doing nothing else for the past two days. He had had no reason to do anything else, he decided darkly as he gave a particularly smug-looking tree another scathing glare. He had accomplished nothing after all, after he had been searching for nearly three days.

The young man looked about him darkly, his eyes already having trouble piercing the darkness that was beginning to fall. Nothing – that was quite an interesting word, wasn't it? Quite fitting too, especially considering that that was what he had found. No tracks, no trace, no broken twigs, not even an imaginary squirrel, neither of the talking sort nor of any other.

He gazed blindly at the path his horse was treading. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. How was that possible? He truly didn't understand it. He should have found something, anything by now! He was a ranger in Eru's name, if he wasn't able to find things he wanted to find, then who was?

'Thranduil's scouts, what about that?' a dark, condescending voice in his mind provided quietly. The Silvan folk of Mirkwood were excellent scouts and trackers; why had he thought he could find Legolas when they had not? It had been arrogance, nothing more, nothing less. He should have convinced the king that the humans had gone South-East instead of East, he should have made him believe him, he should…

Aragorn forcefully pushed back these dark thoughts. He hadn't done these things and that was it. There was nothing he could do to change that; he would have to live with the consequences of his actions. And just because he hadn't found anything yet it didn't mean he wouldn't find something eventually. Besides, there was still the feeling he was having, the feeling that told him he was still on the right track.

He would almost have laughed dryly. There were no tracks, that was the problem! And it wasn't only him who would have to live with the consequences of his actions, this was about his best friend as well! What if he had unwillingly condemned Legolas to certain death by doing what he had thought was right but what turned out to be nothing but folly in the end?

Once again the young ranger forced himself to remain calm. If he lost it now, he might as well turn back and face King Thranduil and the rest of Mirkwood, admitting defeat and failure. He ground his teeth, the expression on his face even darkening. He would not do that, under no circumstances. He wouldn't return to Mirkwood – or to Rivendell for that matter – until he had found Legolas, that was something he had sworn by Elbereth's stars and it was a vow he would keep.

With an effort, Aragorn wrenched his thoughts away from his elven friend and picked up his train of thought where he had left it. His feeling that Legolas' captors had taken the route South-East, yes. This feeling was in fact the only thing that caused him to keep to his original plan and not to return to Thranduil's palace, even though it was precious little to rely on.

Even though he had found no indication until now that the humans had indeed come this way he had pressed on, granting his horse and himself only the most needed rest. He was trying very hard to catch up with the men, and if his estimation was correct, he should indeed have managed to reduce their head start to half a day at the most.

Aragorn nodded to himself in thought, the part of him that remained alert and was on the look-out for trouble beginning to note that concentrating was becoming harder as the exhaustion he had been trying so hard to push back grew and began to claim more and more of his attention. Legolas had been captured four days ago, and if he were the men's leader, he would have left as quickly as possible and given his men only little time to rest. Even the most stupid person would know how foolish it would be to stay in Mirkwood longer than absolutely necessary after a coup such as this one.

When he had left Mirkwood, they had therefore been a day ahead of him, not much longer. He had found no indications that suggested that he was right, and yet he knew that he could go with less sleep than your average human. He didn't know if this was due to his Númenórean blood or because of the training he had received both by the rangers and his brothers, but he was able to function with two or three hours of sleep a night much better and longer than most men. His animal was elven and more than aware of its master's urgency, and Aragorn knew that the horse would carry him until it dropped in exhaustion. Or, that sarcastic voice muttered again, until he dropped in exhaustion.

The man shook his head, keen eyes incessantly wandering over the pristine mantle of snow in front of his horse. Who needed sleep anyway? It was highly overrated in his opinion and just another thing mortals had to deal with, another thing that set him apart from most of his friends and family who, as elves, didn't have a real need to sleep. Besides, he had no desire to see the images again that seemed to visit him in his dreams, images that simply served to heighten his anxiety and sense of urgency . No, he decided quickly, sleep was something he neither desired nor could afford right now.

Be that as it may, he hastily changed the topic, he had crossed into the open lands of Wilderland yesterday at noon, South of the human town of Esgaroth, and should therefore already be rather close to the humans and Legolas – if they had chosen this way, that was. He had yet to meet one of the Lake-men though; it appeared that the storm kept them in the safety and comfort of their floating city.

Aragorn grinned wryly. If he had the choice, he would rather be in a nice house, sitting next to a fire and drinking something hot. Like … tea. The young human almost closed his eyes at that pleasant vision as he tried to ignore the numbness in his body that told him he hadn't been properly warm for days. He would even take his father's tea right about now, as long as it was hot. Well, perhaps not that one Elrond used to force down his throat when he was sick – it was simply disgusting.

Aragorn took his thoughts off that topic as well for it only made him feel colder – something he had thought impossible. For a moment he asked himself what in the name of all the Valar he should think about then, if he couldn't think about sleep, hot food or drink, his current situation, Legolas and his captors or his own astounding stupidity.

Quite an interesting question, he decided after a few moments, there was not much left if he didn't want to think about his father's and brothers' reaction to his disappearance – and he did not, of that he was sure.

'Hmm,' he mused thoughtfully, 'There is still the weather.'

With enthusiasm that spoke volumes about the state of his tired, exhausted mind he began to concentrate on that greatly fascinating topic, but soon found that there was little to say about the weather. It was still snowing, not nearly as heavily as it had in Mirkwood though. The storm was finally losing some strength after nearly a week, and it was the only positive piece of information the young ranger could think of at the moment.

With a sigh, he spurred on his horse, giving the River Running to his left a quick glance. He still hadn't crossed it, even though it would have been easy enough for him frozen as it was. He simply did not believe that the humans would have moved over to the eastern banks of the river yet; the western bank promised much more shelter since the edges of Mirkwood were still close. If he had captured an elf and were travelling south-east along the Celduin, he would certainly make sure that he could disappear into the shade of the woods if the need arose.

Darkness was swiftly falling now, and still the young ranger pressed on, unwilling to give his friend's captors the opportunity to put even more distance between them. Glancing up at the starless, cloudy sky, he sent a quick prayer to the One that Tilion wouldn't be overly tardy tonight and would steer the moon above this part of Arda quickly. The former hunter of Oromë was a rather unsteady steersman, and it happened from time to time that he dwelled too long beneath the earth. Well, Aragorn thought darkly, if he decided to do so now, he would regret it dearly, because he was in no mood to wait for a lazy Maia to raise the moon so he could see something. It was nearly pitch-black, and since he possessed no elven eyes, he would need some light soon if he did not want to miss a possible trace.

Whether Tilion was indeed impressed by the threats the man muttered under his breath for the next few minutes, whether Varda intervened as she had once before or whether nothing of the above was the case Aragorn would never know, but soon the clouds broke and drifted apart and the pale sickle of the moon was revealed, bathing the lands in its soft light that was even intensified by the snow that covered everything in sight. Aragorn grinned, raised his eyes to the heavens and gave Tilion and his charge a small nod. It might not be enough light for an average human, which he luckily wasn't. He was a ranger, and for a ranger the light was more than sufficient.

Only half an hour later, when he was just musing about how much colder he could possibly become – he was still torn between 'little' and 'not at all' – his horse suddenly became nervous, swishing its tail and listening attentively. Reluctantly, Aragorn reined back the animal and began to study his surroundings even more sharply. What was out there that could make his horse act like this? It surely had much sharper senses than he, and if it was acting like this it could only mean that…

The dark haired ranger's eyes travelled over the small path he was following and the bushes right and left of it in search of whatever might have alarmed the beast, only to forget all about that particular question when his eyes came to rest on a small, almost undetectable impression in the otherwise perfect mantle of snow.

With a speed that would have caused his elven instructors to nod in approval he jumped off his horse and fell to his knees next to the indentation, scrutinising it and straining his eyes to examine every single square inch of it. A sudden hope swelled in his heart, and yet he refused to jump to conclusions too early.

Still, there was only one way to interpret this: This was a hoofprint, there was no mistaking it. Aragorn's hands deftly swept the snow to the side, and really, it was just like he had thought: There was a small, only a few inches deep hole in the ground, looking much like an abandoned rabbit hole that had never been dug completely. The horse that had left this print must have stepped right into it and had obviously had trouble extricating its hoof again, thus leaving a print that had not yet been covered completely by the still falling snow.

In an instant the man was back on his feet, his eyes however still fixed on the ground as he searched for more tracks that he knew had to be here somewhere. He had yet to meet a horse that could leave a single hoofprint only to disappear into thin air a second later; in fact, he would be more than a little surprised if he ever did meet one. After a moment his eyes spied the next impression and then the next, small signs that would have gone unnoticed had he not been looking for it.

His eyes never leaving the ground, Aragorn slowly began to walk down the path, not even bothering to check if his horse was following or not. The beast was an elven one however, and even though it wasn't the horse Aragorn had usually ridden while he had been in Mirkwood, it had become quite fond of its curious new master, and so it trailed dutifully behind the young human.

A few hundred yards later however, it would nearly have run into the man since he suddenly stopped as if frozen to the spot. The large black horse contemplated for a moment if it should nudge the human's shoulder to see if that was what had happened, but before it could butt its head against its master in concern and disapproval of his sudden, startling actions, the man began moving again, now so quickly that he was running into the small glade that lay ahead.

Aragorn stopped in the middle of the clearing, his eyes wandering over the most beautiful sight he had seen in quite a long time. It was more beautiful than Rivendell in the spring, more beautiful than the royal gardens back at Mirkwood and definitely more beautiful than the great hall of Thror in Erebor, the Lonely Mountain – then again, he was slightly biased, he admitted, since he had come to loathe small, enclosed spaces like caves, and Erebor was, essentially, nothing but a huge cave.

No, it was far more beautiful than all that. It was an abandoned camp.

A large grin that likened him more to a crazed lunatic than anything else began to spread on his features, but Aragorn found that he didn't care. By the Valar, he had been right, the men had taken this way, they had been here…

"Natha egleriar aen faelas lín, Fanuilos," he whispered softly, still unable to stop grinning.

This was one of the men's camps, it just had to be. How many groups of about twenty humans could be riding around in this kind of weather? While a mocking voice in his head was still informing him that, considering his luck, there were most likely plenty that were all after his blood, too, he had begun moving, keen eyes travelling swiftly over the ground. The many tracks had not yet been covered with a new layer of snow, and he quickly saw that his first guess had been correct: He could see the tracks of about twenty humans, definitely not more than twenty-five. There was nothing that would have caused him to suspect that an elf had been here as well, but that did not surprise him in the slightest. All signs that might have proven once that Legolas was travelling with these people would have disappeared long ago; the almost unnoticeable tracks and footprints would have been swallowed by the snow almost at once.

Aragorn slowly pivoted on his heel, trying to find something that might indicate how long ago the men had left this place. After a second he moved over to the remnants of a hastily pitched fire that was barely visibly, already covered by a thick layer of freshly fallen snow. As he crouched down to examine it more closely he forced himself to stop grinning, and be it only because he was beginning to fear that his face would freeze in this position. Even though that was quite a disconcerting idea in his opinion, he couldn't regain control over his features, so overwhelming and all-defining was his relief afinally finding tracks of those he had followed for so long.

He cleared the fireplace of the snow that covered it only to pull his hand back in shock when, deep down under several layers of snow and ash, his fingers met with the still smouldering embers that had once been a small fire. The man glared at the ashes, plunged his hand into the snow to his right and felt how he began to grin even more broadly. If these were still hot, in this weather, it meant that they couldn't be far ahead of him, six hours at the most, much less if he was lucky. He would have to travel more slowly now since he had to keep to these tracks, but still, if he rode through the night and didn't lose the trail he should be able to catch up with Legolas and his captors tomorrow morning.

The young ranger quickly rose to his feet, not even giving his burnt fingers a single glance as a dark anticipation began to fill his entire being. By the Valar, he had never thought he could already be so close! He spent two more minutes in the camp to make sure he didn't miss anything that might still be useful to him or would tell him more about these mysterious men, but he found nothing, as he had expected. Legolas' captors had apparently only stopped here for a little while sometime in the early afternoon; from such a short stay there wouldn't remain much that could be useful to him.

With a last look at the abandoned camp, Aragorn hurried over to his horse who had been eyeing him patiently, if not a little bit amused. Its tail was still swishing slightly from side to side, something that the man didn't even notice in his preoccupied state of mind. All his thoughts were already miles away, already with his friend and those who had dared to capture him. The ranger quickly mounted his horse and guided it across the clearing, following the tracks of the men that led South-East.

These people were heading for Rhûn, the young man concluded quietly; something he had suspected for quite some time now. In front of him he could once again see the glittering ice of the Celduin, the river that flowed from the Lonely Mountain all the way down to the vast Sea of Rhûn. To Aragorn's right the trees of Mirkwood were slowly beginning to recede as the stream led away from the forest, something that was both bad and good for him. Bad because he would be easier visible in the open plains where there was little cover to be found, and good because the same went for his prey. It should become increasingly easy to track these humans now, and he did indeed not doubt that he would be able to catch up with them in the next twelve hours. He was a ranger after all, and once a ranger had found a track it took more than a little snow to make him lose it again.

With a determined nod of his head, Aragorn spurred on his animal, grey eyes fixed unwaveringly on the snow-covered ground as not to miss a single track. Soon the small clearing lay once again deserted under the pale light of the moon, until, some minutes after the dark haired ranger had left, a group of stealthy, grey shadows began to appear, moving soundlessly over the snow.

Yellowish eyes gleamed in the sparse light, and as one the shadows began to follow the tracks the large black horse had left, disappearing in the blackness of the night as if they had been nothing but a dark dream.

++++++++++

TBC...

++++++++++

mellon nín - my friend
ion nín - my son
ada - father (daddy)
Natha egleriar aen faelas lín, Fanuilos - Praised be your mercy, Fanuilos ('Snow-white', a title of the Vala Varda/Elbereth)

++++++++++

Yes, well, who could those cute little shadows be? I'm sure Celylith would be accepting bets if he were here at the moment... *g* Okay, so there might ne no real elf torture in the next chapter, but we have ... other things. I can't really remember at the moment, but I think there was something with said shadows, and quite a lot with Legolas and Teonvan/Reran. *nods* Yes, that's about it, and it should be here on Monday/Tuesday. A review would be great, as always. So: Review? Yes please!

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Additional A/N:

Tapetum Lucidum - Hmm, you might be right. I think Legolas thinks that the men in general - especially Teonvan and his friends of course - are stupid, but that Reran is somewhat competent, but that even that wouldn't have been enough had the weather not been so bad. If that maked sense. *g* LOL, fires attract bugs, wargs, giant spider and the sons of Elrond? The last is definitely the worst one, you're right... *g*
Deana - Well, yes, we all enjoy them! I always think they're simply two sides of the coin... *g* Well, I didn't really post this 'soon', but I hope it wasn't so much later than you expected.
Forever Unstoppable - Aha! Another lurker! *g* Thanks a lot for deciding to take the time to review my insane little stories. I love reviews, and they really help to keep you motivated, and sometimes I even get interesting idea... *g* Once again thanks a lot for the review, and it's very nice to hear that you've been enjoying this so far! *huggles*
Red Tigress - *innocently* Who? Aragorn? Falling prey to a huge accident? Honestly, how did you get THAT idea? You know that that's something that would never happen to our dear ranger... *g* And in the end Glorfindel might come to everyone's rescue, but ... not really. I know it doesn't make much sense now, but it's true. *evil grin*
Webster - I know, I know, and I'm sorry. There are simply too many different points of view and angles I have to cover at the moment, and I have neither the time, nor the space nor the patience to put both Legolas and Aragorn into every chapter. This will change again soon though, don't worry. Great you liked the chapter nevertheless, and thanks for reviewing!
Gwyn - Hmm, okay, you're right. I guess Mirkwood as in the forest already counts as 'home'. And I am touched that you have so much faith in him- and his mind. It is something not widely shared... *evil grin* Hmm, so you liked the update? Here's another one, I hope you'll like it as well!
Firnsarnien - Oh, I will, don't worry. And then I'll buy the world! Mhahahahahaha! *coughs* Ah well, whatever... *blushes* You do what? Admire me? Jeez, mate, you really need to see a doctor. There's something definitely wrong with you - or your mind... LOL, so it all was a way to get lots of elf angst? Well, you just might have been successful, there's quite a bit of that in the next two chapters... *evil grin* Poor elfsie. And yes, you could say that Teonvan is a meanie. I think that's a rather accurate description. *g*
Bookworm, .303 - I resent that! I do not have a habit of delaying things! It's just that you people are always too impatient! You're always asking: 'When is this gonna happen, when is that gonna happen, when...' You get the picture? How in the name of the Valar am I supposed to know? All I can give you are guesses, and guesses are occasionally wrong! Oh, and yes, I tend to delay things once in a while... *g*
Strider's Girl - Who doesn't cause his/her parents a lot of trouble? Children are God's way of punishing you for all the things you did to your own parents when you were a child, that's what I always say.... *g* I thank you for your kind words, even though I don't think that Tolkien would be very pleased about the way I (or everybody else on FF.net, with a few exceptions) describe his characters. In fact, I think he would have a stroke and die. *g* I am sorry though, I can't give you any tips about writing them. As stupid as it sounds, they kinda 'write themselves'. And if you think they don't have enough emotions, then give them some! Write what they're thinking or feeling? I know, it's not very good advice, sorry.... *g*
Just Jordy - Well, believe me, Celylith is none too happy at the moment. I mean, who can blame them? I would have killed them - or myself - a long time ago. Most probably them though... *g* Great I could help you with that little question, and thanks for all your reviews!
Jenny - Yeah, I agree, Celylith and Aragorn would most probably be more than happy about such wonderful blackmailing-material... The government health warning would be a good idea, only problem: There is no 'government' in this part of ME, only different realms, and you know how hard it is to pass anything in even ONE realm... *g*
Mouse5 - Quite a lot of people thought that Celylith would run into Aragorn, which, quite frankly surprised me quite a bit. I mean, Aragorn is riding South-East and Beorn's house is South-West of the palace. The chances of meeting were, well, at least very small if not non-existent. *g* Well, I guess most people aren't quite as familiar with ME geography - then again, I only am because I am insane, so... *g*
Bailey - Well, it would be best if no-one found out about Legolas' little alias, but it would be slightly boring, wouldn't it? I mean, all the wonderful possibilities.... *dreamy sigh* Nah, I guess someone will find out. *evil grin* And yes, as I said in the A/N, there will be Aragorn in this chapter, don't worry. No Legolas though, I'm sorry, but you can't have everything, I guess. *g*
Starlight - LOL, Hip Hip Hurra, E und E sind da? Na, das ist doch mal ein schoner Reim... Du solltest Dichterin werden! *g* Es freut mich natuerlich, dass du diesen kleinen Satz mochtest; ich fand ihn auch ziemlich lustig. Es gibt so Saetze, die ich immer aussergewoehnlich komisch finde, was allerdings die Leser meistens nicht unbedingt teilen... *zuckt Schultern* Na ja, mein Humor ist eben komisch. Und keine Angst, Estel ist wieder hier, ganz ohne Minderwertigkeitkomplex! *g*
CrazyLOTRfan - Don't worry about that, it happens to all of us all the time. Well, maybe not all the time, but often enough. FF.net is evil, after all. But it's nice to hear that you liked the Leafie-bit. I'm rather sure Legolas wouldn't agree, but... *g*
Firniswin - It doesn't work quite often, the author alert, I mean. I wouldn't rely too much on it if I were you... Just trust me. When I say I'll update on Wednesday, I'll update on Wednesday, unless I don't. Then I have a good reason like ... hmm, illness. Or laziness. *g* It's nice to hear that you like Glorfindel. The poor elf wasn't all that happy when I told him he would have to make an appearance in this story - don't know why either... *shrugs innocently*
Salara - *grosse Augen* Wow! Na, DAS ist doch mal 'ne nette Review! Ich bedanke mich vielmals, herzlich und ehrerbietig! *verbeugt sich* Das ist wahrscheinlich die laengste Review, die ich je bekommen habe, und garantiert mitunter die hilfreichste! *knuddelt Salara* Vielen vielen vielen Dank! Ich habe mich ueber diverse Punkte koestlich amuesiert, z.B. ueber die Vorstellung, dass Aragorn sich ab jetzt nur noch mit einem Vorkoster nach Mirkwood traut. *g* Ist wahrscheinlich ein klein wenig unhoeflich, aber was tut man nicht alles... *g* Und ich bin beeindruckt: Die meisten Leute unterschaetzen unseren geliebten kleinen Teonvan. Er mag ein Idiot sein und nicht allzu helle, aber er ist berechnend und eiskalt. Alles Sachen, die noch eine interessante Kombination ergeben koennten... *g* Wie ich auch schon oft hier sagte: Es tut mir leid wegen Galalith. Es musste sein, das ganze war mehr oder weniger die Idee, wegen der ich das hier angefangen habe - wird man am Ende schon noch sehen. Hoffe ich auf jeden Fall... *g* Ja, und auch Glorfindel ist da - ist er nach Elrond einer deiner Lieblinge? Noch einmal vielen Dank fuer diese Monster-Review! Ich fand und finde sie ganz toll und wunderbar!! *knuddelt*
Amelie - You know, I think we have a little communication problem here. I always thought I knew what "gravel" was, but I checked it nonetheless. You know what it says? As a noun, it equals "rock fragments and pebbles". Please tell me your mother isn't making you eat rocks! It would seriously scare me... *g* Well, rocks or not, the review isn't much weirder than usual, don't worry. It makes perfect sense - most of the time... *g* Okay, questions: 1) was answered in the A/N; 2) After; 3) That's something you'll find out soon enough; 4) I have no idea, but not anytime soon; 5) and 6) see 3). Well, I guess I didn't give too many answers, but I can't spoil everything now, can I? Nope, I can't. *takes shiny badge and bows* Thanks a lot! It's great to hear that you like Celylith! And no, Aragorn did not evaporate, I simply don't have the time, space or inclination to put both him and Legolas into every chapter. Sorry. *g*
Miss Attitude - I know exactly what you mean, it's like reading several books at once. You get confused. Or like having Greek at college right after Latin. I always tend to mix up the grammar - stupid me. *g* Don't worry, it happens to me all the time as well.
Calenore - Who doesn't? I definitely pity Celylith - and Hithrawyn, and Thranduil, and Elrond, and Glorfindel, and somehow also Reran. No, make that _especially_ Reran. *g* And don't worry, Legolas won't get rid of his new name so soon... No, indeed not. *evil grin*
Sirithiliel - Uhm, yes, eventually Legolas (as well as Aragorn, great surprise here) will see our new best friend, the evil overlord. And yes, you're right, Elladan and Elrohir can be 'you know'. Very much so, actually... *g*
Elvendancer - Yup, the four of them would definitely be on that list. Along with many, many other people - I really think that everyone but Teonvan will be on that list in the end. But him too, in the _very_ end, since... *trails off* I'm not making much sense, am I? That's nothing new, I guess... *g* And no, the fact that our favourite psychopath WILL be happy at one point or other does definitely not bode well. *evil grin*
Dawn - Yup, 6 days or 144 hours. Or 8640 minutes, or 518 400 seconds. *evil grin* It's not that long, is it? Nope, not at all... Well, I hope the "enticing torment" wasn't too bad - here's the next bit.
Sabercrazy - It's good you have such great and understanding friends. If you start squealing "Gofi!" all the time, I fear that even they might look at you strangely - I would! *g* So you like him, huh? I fear I can indeed not allow you to steal Glorfindel and put him into a closet - he doesn't appear too happy about it either! And no, I don't think that asking me to torture him is not really a good thing - or that this is not really an appropriate time! I heard it though, don't worry... *evil grin*
Celest - *smiles sheepishly* I know, I know, and believe me, I am not yet sure myself. I love Elrond-Aragorn interaction as well, in fact, I LOVE it, but, to be perfectly honest, I don't think I will end it in Rivendell. It would disrupt the flow of the story, and even though I would love to have a baby warg, I fear that the story will be long enough already. I don't want you to spend the rest of the story on your hands and knees, so I'll tell you right now that the chances that this story will end in Imladris are slim at best. I am planning to let them get to Rivendell at the start of the next story though, that's something, right? *smiles uncertainly* Right?
Orlandofan13 - I fear that is something they'll never understand. Elves and their pride - it's a vicious circle. The harder you push, the more it raises its ugly head. Law of nature or something... *g* I am also trying to avoid Mary-Sues by all means necessary. Mostly I do it by not using female charaters. I'll have at least one in this story though, and I'm already afraid of writing her... *shudders*
TrinityTheSheDevil - Your site was down? I hope you managed to make it work! Sometimes I could swear that the internet hates me, not only FF.net. *g* LOL, so I see that you're happy to see Celylith, Glorfindel and the twins? It's nice to see, of course! *g* *blinks* So you really want to see Celylith's father in PAIN? Well, I don't know, but that's not very likely to happen, at least not in this story. I will certainly remember it though, I promise! *g*
Suzi9 - Oh yes, Zam has orcs. Zam and Lina also have many other things, for example the Army of the Dead, the Nine, Ted, the army of the Haradhrim, the Rohirrim and probably a few other things I've forgotten. *g* Don't ask. And I like your father. Tell him that. I also thought that the Nazgûl and their mounts were only misunderstood. *g* Oh, and I don't think I even want to start with the knives. Sharp objects have this tendency to hurt myself and others when they're in my hands. You're lucky you started so early, my family is not exactly one who looks kindly upon things like martial arts, violence or wars. I think they're all either doctors, musicians or journalists. Or a mixture of the above, and pacifists. *g* Could be worse, I guess. Great you like the squirrel, just don't let Drákon eat it! So, which language do you speak? I could help you with German and perhaps a little Spanish, but that's it, I'm afraid... And of course I am wicked! Very much so! And no, there's no escape attempt in this chapter, that would be too much like AEFAE. I thought of something equally amusing... *evil grin* Thanks for the bandages! I'm sure Legolas and Aragorn will appreciate them... Thanks a lot for your - as always - wonderful review! *huggles*
Karone Evertree - Well - no. The evil lord's plan does not include Legolas getting much older than he is now, I'm afraid... *g* LOL, you're right of course, it will never work, but the humans can't know that yet, can they? They'll find out though... *evil grin*
Marbienl - Well, this review IS signed. I don't know, but this seemed to have worked after all... *g* I'll never understand FF.net, I fear. I don't know yet who will kill whom in the end, but someone will kill Teonvan in the end, don't worry. I haven't read that book, to be honest, I don't like Patricia Cornwell. My mother loves her, I like Kathy Reichs much better though. But I've heard about that book. But no, Reran doesn't know Elvish. He's not very literate or something, he was just amised by Legolas' words. *grimaces* He has a weird sense of humour? I read about Beorn in one of these Tolkien Dictionaries, you know, Tolkien from A-Z or something. There was nothing about his wife, but Tolkien never thought someone's wife to be very important. He was a bit of a chauvinist, I guess. *g*
Snow-Glory - Uhm, no, I don't think so. I mean, Celylith might still be somewhat aggrieved about having to set Wilwarin free, but I think deep down he knows that it was the right thing to do. Besides, Legolas is his prince, so what he says goes. *g* It's good to be the prince, huh? And I am not yet sure about it, but I don't think Elrond will come to Mirkwood. I mean, what would he be able to do? He has responsibilities, and I always thought that he "flying" everywhere knowing that there was nothing he could do was a little ... odd. *blushes* I am glad to hear that you like this until now. Thanks!
Maranwe1 - Wow! Huge review! Thank you! And about that secure log-in thing: You can change that, you know that? It's possible to change it, both if you're using Netscape and IE. I guess it's under "Preferences" or "Internet Options" or something like that. And yes, we'll see a bit of the twins' reaction, a bit later though. Sorry. *blinks* So you read all the replies? And even have FUN doing it? Well, that's interesting... *g* And I am very impressed about your habit of posting when you've already finished your story, I would need to start several months earlier. I don't think I would have the patience for that. I'm sorry about your little chapter-4-problem. I hope it and your headache is better now. LOL, you would cut out Legolas' tongue? And his ... eyebrows ... and his eyes... *trails off* Okay, I will just ignore it. Thank you very much for your long, interesting and highly amusing review! *huggles*
Zam - I heard what happened from Lina. I am very sorry, truly I am. I have no idea what you must feel like. I have always been exceptionally bad at expressing my condolences and things like that, most of the time I start laughing hysterically (a stupid and highly embarassing reaction, I know), so I guess I should shut up now. *falls silent* So, you like Frodo? I don't, frankly, or at least I don't like the movie-Frodo. He doesn't have a neck! None at all! And those eyes... *shakes head* LOL at the Valar! The idea is wonderful, I was laughing so hard I almost fell off my chair! Great you like Cendan, I love him too! He's so wonderfully menacing all the time... *g* I don't know about Gothmog either. I guess you're right about him being a Nazgûl though. I could use a American slang translator though - sometimes I also have problems understanding it... Once again, I am sorry. That's not much help, I guess. *smiles sadly*

Alisha B - You should consider moving into a wildlife park! If you're lucky, you might even be joined by Legolas after a while, because you're definitely right: He is exceptionally stupid. Great you liked the Lasseg part, and you're right again: There are probably a lot more people running around called Legolas in Mirkwood. I mean, we know that elves name their children after great people, just look at Rúmil of Lórien. So, there might be more of that name around! Great you liked the twins and Celylith, and I will try to convince them to hold a knife to your throat for a while. Promise! *g*

Carla - Tja ja, das erste Semester. Ist immer recht aufrengend, huh? *g* Es macht schon Spass, endlich mal jemand zu sein, der nicht mehr ein Erstsemestler ist - ist ein wirklich schones Gefuehl, wart' nur ab. *g* Lass' dich nicht allzu sehr fertig machen, danke fuer die Review!
Cicci - LOL, yes, they are indeed nice challenges. I could go without so many of them, though... *g* And you're right, Celylith _is_ getting the short end of stick often - or rather all the time, to be hoenst... *g* So you really like Teonvan? I guess you're quite alone there... And yes, Aragorn and Celylith will most certainly not forget about 'Lasseg' - trust me. *evil grin*
TrustingFriendship - One has to be insane, I guess. Then you can write such things. *g* I'm very glad I could make you happy, and also that you liked the monkey and the talking squirrels. Don't worry about keeping up with this story, we all have a real life to worry about! Unfortunately...
Rabbit of Iron - *g* See, it's just the other way round with me. I don't have anything against elf torture, but I don't overly enjoy it either. Well, as long as you people enjoy it, it's okay I guess. *g* Uhm, who is Gretel? And what is Sounds of Music? I am sorry, but to be honest, I have no idea what you're talking about... *g* LOL, I loved your theories! I have to admit that c) is my favourite! *grins from ear to ear* Thanks for the review!
Lina - As I told Zam: I am very, very sorry about your friend. I never lost someone close to me before, and I have no idea what you two must feel like. I am glad you like Ted though - I hope he cheers you up a little. I'll shut up now before I start babbling nonsense. *huggles*
Critternut - Ah, yes, I guess you could say that. Teonvan is a pretty mean man. And lots of people say you can see things in someone's eyes; I for my part have never been able to though. All I see is ... eyes? *g* And I think that there are some people who are been born evil. Besides, I know quite a few children who are simply evil. Most of them are, actually. *g* The twins will take some time to reach Aragorn and Legolas, but I am afraid that there will be quite a few scenes with them. Most people like them, even though they 'take away Legolas' spotlight'. *shakes head* You DO need help. LOL, and I think that most of ME would kill us or themselves if we somehow got there. And IF we did get there, it would not at all be all that great, but rather a lot like medieval times, and believe me, THOSE weren't much fun, espicially not for women. And no, and I can now say with certainty that there'll be no broken legs. Sorry. And no escaping for ... well, quite a long time, and even then it won't do them much good. And no, Legolas won't escape on his own. Sorry again.

Thanks a lot for all your wonderful reviews! *huggles* I know, I know, this is getting old, but there are few other ways to phrase it. *shrugs* So, thanks!