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.

17. Sad Truths

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.

A/N:

*shakes head unbelievingly* Please tell me there isn't going to be a Cendan Lives Foundation or something like that! I mean, honestly people, he's one of the bad guys! Okay, I'll admit that, in comparison to Teonvan he's a wonderfully nice kind of person, but he's still bad! So, please, don't start with him! The CLF is already bad enough... *g*

There have been some questions about the medical part of the last chapter, and I'll try to answer them as best as I can. First: I am not a doctor, but I do have a friend who has been studying medicine for quite a long time now. So: Yes, what was described (or should have been described) in chapter 16 is a pneumothorax, which is what happens when air enters the chest cavity as the name already suggests. It's true that the scenario I described is, from what I've heard, very rare and rather unlikely (hey, this IS fanfiction, after all! *g*), but it's possible nonetheless.

You see, the chest wall is not right next to the lung. There's some space between the two in which there's a vacuum, so the main scenario is that, as soon as the pleura (that's the membranes between chest wall and lung and the vaccum) are injured or ripped, air enters, disturbs the vacuum and causes the lung to collapse. I am aware of the fact that the possibility of only injuring the one pleura and not the other is very slim, and that if such a very remote possibility should indeed be the case, it isn't the very best thing to seal the wound therefore trapping the air, but my friend assured me that, in some cases, it is the only thing to do when you have no access to a hospital and that it's possible to survive, especially when you're young and healthy. So, I just assumed that elves are _especially_ young and healthy, that elven anatomy isn't _quite_ like human anatomy and that they got lucky. *g* I really don't want to start a discussion about elven anatomy, so let's just say that I took some liberties in the last chapter, okay?

*evil grin* Yes, yes, yes, Teonvan IS quite a mean, psychopathic person, right? I mean, not even I like him, and I created him - so I guess you're right. Speaking of psychopaths: A lot of people asked about ranger torture. *sighs* I know, what else is new? So: Come on, you _know_ me. You know there will be some, because I may be many things, but I'm not unfair. We had some elf torutre so we will have some ranger torture too, but not now. Try ... hmm, what about chapter 20 or something. In a little while. *g*

Well, here's chapter 17 which hopefully will retain its formatting. Knowing FF.net I doubt it though. *g* Anyway, there's quite a lot of angst around here, because Legolas wakes up, Anardir wakes up, King Thranduil is having a bad day, Aragorn learns about Legolas' wonderful alias and Reran realises that underestimating people can be very, very dangerous. *g*

Have fun and review, please!

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Chapter 17

There was no slow awakening for Legolas, not this time.

He left the dark, peaceful sleep behind to come to awareness in an instant, a transition that was neither welcome nor voluntary. For a moment, all that registered in his mind was confusion, something that was quickly swept away by a staggering wave of pain that swept through his body, making him convulse with the intensity of it – which turned out to be a really bad idea since that only increased the pain.

Fighting to calm his own body and against the pain that wrecked it, the elven prince desperately tried to figure out what had happened to him. His mind shied away from the memories with a determination that caused him to get seriously worried, and had he not been in so much unexpected pain, he might even have fought through the mental block to remember the cause of his poor state of health. The way things were, however, he was far too busy to do such a thing since it seemed that even slowing down his breathing and heart rate was too great and insurmountable a task.

As if through a haze he felt cool hands grip him and restrain his movements, and the darkness that seemed to cover his memories dissipated long enough for him to realise with absolute certainty that there was no-one here by whom he wished to be touched. The elf immediately began to struggle against the hands that held him fast, and he was so captivated by that task that it took him several moments to realise that the person holding him was talking to him in soft, accentless Sindarin. His movements stilled as he listened to the Noldorin cadence that was slightly throatier than the Sindarin that was spoken at his home and that caused the words to blend together, threatening to lull him back to sleep.

Suddenly, the memories seemed to come back to him all at once, and Legolas would almost have moaned aloud, but not because of the pain that still filled his body and was seemingly concentrated on the left side of his chest. Please, Elbereth, let it not be as he thought… With an enormous effort he managed to pry open his eyes that an incredibly amusing man must have glued shut, only to look at the blurriest face he had ever seen.

For a moment, he simply stared at the blurry blob that was supposedly a face, and found himself hard-pressed not to start giggling. It was a most ridiculous sight indeed. The big blob grew a little bit sharper round the edges and opened its mouth to say something, and if the elf hadn't lost his voice out of reasons he couldn't remember, he would really have started laughing.

The familiar voice that registered in his muddled, pain-filled head a second later chased away all traces of mirth however and awoke in him the potent urge to hit something hard and unyielding. What in the name of the One was he was doing here?

"…calm down, my friend … It's alright, we are alone. You can wake up now. It's alright, calm down…"

The words seemed to be repeated over and over again, and Legolas closed his eyes shortly, opening them again after a moment to turn unbelieving, shocked eyes on his best friend who was leaning over him, looking a little worse for wear but real nonetheless.

"Estel?" Legolas finally managed to croak, having neither the strength nor the ability to say more.

A brilliant smile spread over the ranger's tired face, and he nodded so fervently that a few strands of dark hair fell across his forehead.
"Thank the Valar!" he exclaimed. Two hands lightly touched Legolas' chest, and the man added, "Stay where you are and do – not – move – an – inch."

Legolas could only blink in confusion when Aragorn's head disappeared along with his hands, only to reappear a moment later, still wearing a large grin. The hands appeared again, holding something that looked like a water skin, and the elf noticed for the first time that his friend's wrists were bound by a length of rope. Before he could dwell on that subject any longer, Aragorn carefully propped him up so that he could help him drink as much of the cool water that sloshed in the skin as he could. A second later he was helped to lie down again, and Aragorn started speaking before Legolas could even open his mouth to ask the first of the two dozen questions that had popped up in his brain in the last few seconds alone.

"Elbereth, stubborn elf, do you have any idea how much you scared me? Do never do that again, do you hear me? You very nearly died on me last night, and you still need to rest as much as you can. I would like to keep you immobile for at least another day, but they want to leave at noon, if you can stand or not. I told them what a stupid idea that was and that they were idiots even to consider it, but…"

Legolas' eyes grew a little wider, and the last doubts as to whether or not his friend was an illusion or apparition disappeared. An illusion couldn't have talked as much in as little time; it was a physical impossibility. Only Aragorn could babble so much. Had he thought it safe to do so, he would have shaken his head.
"Why did you … come here, reckless human?" he finally managed to ask.

Aragorn stopped in mid-tirade and gave the elf a mildly wounded look.
"Did you really think I would let you have all the fun alone? That I would allow you to get yourself captured and dragged across Rhovanion without me? You should know me better, my friend. I would never miss entertainment such as this."

Legolas closed his eyes again, suddenly feeling tired beyond measure.
"No … you should not have come." A sudden thought struck him and his eyes flew open again, his right hand that felt the least damaged feverishly reaching out and grasping the young human's left forearm. "Teonvan – did he do anything to you? Did he harm you?"

The man quickly pressed the elven prince down again, doing his best to calm him down before he could harm himself or tear any of the stitches he had placed so painstakingly in such a large percentage of the elf's skin last night.
"No, don't worry," he tried to soothe the agitated elf. "No-one harmed me. I am fine, I promise you. It is you I am worried about, mellon nín."

Legolas allowed himself to be pushed down onto what he had identified as several blankets, what little strength his worry had lent him dissipating rapidly. He blinked, for the first time noticing that they were in a small, beige tent, and that the light of the pre-dawn hours was filtering through the front flaps.
"I am…"

"Don't," Aragorn advised him darkly as he carefully peeled back the edge of a bandage to inspect one of the cuts. "Don't say you're alright. I have seen to your wounds last night; I know that you are not." Noticing the pained expression on the elf's face, he let the bandage fall back into place. "I am sorry, Legolas," he said softly. "I am sorry for not accompanying you, I am sorry for not finding you more quickly, and most of all I am sorry for not coming out sooner. I did not even reach the camp long after they had … started."

The fair haired elf smiled slightly and shook his head minutely.
"Don't be sorry, my friend. I only wish you would have stayed where you were."

"Legolas…"

"No, Estel, I mean it," the elf shook his head again, wincing when pain lanced through his temples. He would have wished to raise his voice, but found that he was too short of breath and that his chest hurt too much for an action as foolish as that. "These people here are mad. They are not stupid, but they are mad, mad with fear and anger and hatred. They are dangerous."

"Don't you think I know that?" Aragorn asked, looking suddenly far older than he was as he reached for his healing bag with his bound hands. "This … man, Teonvan, he almost killed you yesterday! It is only with luck and the grace of the Valar that you still live! Your lung partially collapsed, and it you weren't so stubborn and thick-headed, you would have suffocated and I would have been helpless to do anything about it!"

Legolas tried to smile again, suddenly understanding Aragorn's behaviour. He had scared the man out of his mind yesterday, and Aragorn still wasn't able to convince himself that he would really survive. A stab of guilt went through his chest that already felt as if someone had used it as a pincushion – for spears. He hadn't meant to frighten the ranger.

"Well," he said wryly, managing to lift a hand and lightly touch the other's arm. "That explains why my chest feels as if a mûmak had chosen it for a resting place. An overweight mûmak."

Aragorn's mouth twisted into a small smile as he recognised the elf's attempt to lift the mood as what it was, and neatly used the opportunity to grab Legolas' wrist to check the wounds the rough ropes had left there. After making sure that they had started to heal and were free of infection, he carefully placed the elf's hand on his heavily bandaged chest and grabbed the other wrist, preparing to repeat the procedure.

"It will get worse if you don't rest," he told his patient. "No yelling, coughing, laughing or singing for the next few days, do you hear me?"

"That," Legolas said darkly, "should not be so hard. I don't know why, but my desire to laugh or sing has seldom been smaller." He looked at his friend who was still examining his other wrist, and carefully tried to pull it out of his grasp to get the man's attention. "Despite of what I said earlier, I am glad that you have come, my friend. But," he added, cutting off whatever Aragorn had wanted to say, "you must leave me. Try to escape as soon as you can."

"I will never understand why people say I am stubborn. There are apparently some things that will never penetrate that thick Silvan skull of yours," Aragorn shook his head as he slowly released the elf's hand, wincing when he moved his right arm.

The younger dark haired man, Cendan, had appeared some time during the night and had tied his hands without a word, apparently not at all caring if his arm was injured or not. If he had thought it had hurt before, he had quickly been shown how wrong he had been; the incessant pressure on the injured limb was quickly approaching unbearable levels. Somehow, Aragorn thought darkly, these men didn't seem to trust him, the Valar alone knew why.

"I will never leave you behind," he added, not at all intimidated by his friend's attempt at the look. "Certainly not in the hands of these men. They want you very badly, but they don't care in what condition you are in as long as you're alive."

"I know that!" Legolas replied sharply. "They need me, I don't know why myself, but they don't need you! Reran, the leader, will never take you with them, for that you are too dangerous. He will kill you, Strider, he will kill you before they leave this place, and that is something I won't accept! You have to leave me!"

"I won't, because he won't," Aragorn smiled a little bit smugly. "As you said, they need you alive, or their mysterious lord will kill all of them in a manner that would apparently make Finrod Felagund's death in the pits of Sauron appear quick and merciful."

Both of them shuddered almost imperceptibly. Finrod, son of Finarfin, grandson of Finwë and brother of Lady Galadriel had gone with Beren on the quest of the Silmarils and had died in torment and darkness on Tol-in-Gaurhoth. It was a death every one of the Firstborn feared, and deservedly so.

"No," Aragorn went on, "Reran won't kill me, at least not now. Their healer was killed, and they fear that you might still die. They won't kill me until they have reached their destination and have delivered you safely into the hands of their lord, believe me."

Legolas looked into the man's grey eyes, saw the determined sparkle in them and decided that he would be wasting his time trying to convince him right now. He possessed neither the energy nor the strength to argue with someone as incredibly stubborn as Aragorn at the moment, and decided to let the matter rest for the time being.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, trying to ignore the pain in his chest, "Perhaps you should explain everything from the beginning. There are quite a few questions I want answered."

Aragorn gave the elf a hard look, knowing that there was no way Legolas would be allowing him to change the subject.
"Alright," he reluctantly agreed. "But I want your word that you tell me when the pain becomes too much." He lifted both his hands in an authoritative gesture, something that didn't look quite as impressive as he would have wished it to. "Don't even try to tell me that you don't hurt. I stitched half a dozen of these cuts yesterday, and I know what burns feel like. I am sorry, but there was no other way. I had to stitch them, or…"

"I know, Strider," Legolas inclined his head. "There is no need to apologise. You saved my life, once again. How could I reproach you for that? I owe you my thanks."

"You owe me nothing," Aragorn shook his head, "Least of all your thanks. If I hadn't forgotten my dagger, my elvish dagger, nothing like this would have happened. I would have been able to free you in the night and we would already be on our way back to Mirkwood."

"No," the elf shook his head, finding that it didn't hurt him quite as much anymore. "You are wrong, my friend. As I said, these men are dangerous, and they are experienced. Believe me, you would never have managed to free me without alerting the entire camp, Númenórean blood and elven training or not. I have been trying for a week to escape, and haven't once got past stage one, namely even spotting an opportunity. And Teonvan would have done what he has done no matter what, sooner or later. He had been waiting for a chance like that for days. It wasn't your fault, and please, do spare me having to repeat myself."

Aragorn looked at him sadly, apparently not at all convinced, but finally bowed his head in acquiescence.
"You are my patient for the moment, and if my father has taught me anything, it is never to upset a patient needlessly. I will follow that advice and remain silent, if you promise me to tell me when you are tired and wish to rest."

"Alright," Legolas finally said, finding to his surprise that the presence of his friend alone calmed his troubled mind and allowed him to relax more than he had been able to in more than six days. "Alright, reckless human, I will; and now quit stalling. How in Ilúvatar's name did you find me, how did you get yourself captured and why exactly aren't you at the palace?"

Aragorn sighed and consented himself to his fate, and it was almost an hour later that he finally finished the story, due to several incredulous and worried interruptions Legolas had either been unable or unwilling to hold back.

"So," Legolas finally concluded, "You are alone, no-one knows where you are, and all that might lead eventual pursuers into the right direction is a small rune that you carved into a random tree."

"Essentially … yes."

"Oh," the elf added, suppressing a small cough and wincing in pain at the movement, "And here I thought our situation couldn't get any worse."

"But you have company now," Aragorn pointed out, reaching once again for the water skin and helping the elf to drink some more water. "As soon as you are well again, there is no way these men can hold us here. I am sure that my brothers will follow us as soon as they can. They will find us; we simply have to wait and see that we survive until then."

"Aye," Legolas nodded slowly. "They will, I am sure as well, and if I am not very much mistaken, Celylith will come as well. That elf can be just as headstrong as you if he has to."

The young ranger smiled and lightly touched his friend's cheek with his bound hands in a reassuring gesture.
"I'm certain you are right. We will have to stay alive till they get here, and, if possible, escape and kill these people before then."

"I like that plan," Legolas smiled back and weakly touched his friend's right forearm, his brow creasing in a frown when he saw the grimace of pain flicker over the other's features. "What is it? Is that the little 'scratch' you got from the wolves?"

"It's nothing," Aragorn tried to brush off the elven prince's worry. "Just a flesh wound. The bone is not even broken."

"But it must still hurt!" the elf retorted, glaring at the ranger reproachfully. "Who bound you like this?"

"I think his name is Cendan," the man replied. "He is a little smaller than I am, with dark hair, rather dark skin and…"

"…blue eyes," Legolas finished his sentence. "Yes, he would simply not care. Reran is a good commander, afraid of his lord and afraid of what might happen to his men if he fails. Teonvan is sick, seeking pleasure and respect through pain and humiliation of others; he does not care for any other being, not even for his own men. Cendan, however, I cannot read."

Aragorn shook his head helplessly.
"He does not like Teonvan though, that is all I can tell you. You can see hatred and contempt in his eyes every time he looks at him."

Legolas smiled painfully, trying not to think of the last time he had seen Teonvan.
"That he does not like him is an understatement. Cendan hates Teonvan, and Teonvan him. Cendan even tried to protect me because he considered me his responsibility, yet could do nothing once Teonvan ordered him to step aside. He holds great respect for Reran and his decisions though."

"And yet he disobeyed his orders in order to obey Teonvan's," Aragorn went on, eyeing Legolas sharply. He hadn't missed the flicker of pain and dark memories that had been shortly visible in the elf's eyes, and was already trying to come up with a way to inconspicuously change the topic. "A paradoxical behaviour."

Legolas simply nodded, and Aragorn reached out with his hands to brush a strand of fair hair away from the elf's forehead, inwardly wincing at the pain in his arm and cursing Teonvan, Cendan, Reran and the whole lot of them in rather colourful terms.
"Remember what I said earlier, stubborn elf. Try to get some more rest; we will break camp in a few hours if they really want to leave at noon. We can talk later."

The elf would almost have agreed and allowed his friend's soft voice to relax him further, but something that had been bothering him ever since Aragorn had told him how the news of his capture had reached Mirkwood chose just this moment to emerge and demand his attention.

"What about my men?" he asked sharply, shrugging off Aragorn's hands and fighting to reach a sitting position. "What about Galalith and Anardir? You merely said Anondil's patrol found Rashwe and brought them back; what happened to them?"

Aragorn who had reluctantly been helping his friend to sit up pressed his lips together and closed his eyes shortly, glad that Legolas was resting against his chest and couldn't see his face. He had hoped so much that he had evaded that question successfully, had hoped so much that Legolas wouldn't ask about his friends until he was better...

"Anardir was … wounded," he finally said evasively, feeling Legolas' body stiffen slightly at his attempt not to answer directly. "When I left the palace, he was still unconscious, but Master Hithrawyn assured me that he was in no imminent danger."

That wasn't even untrue, he thought sadly. Anardir hadn't been in any imminent danger, if one ignored the small fact that he might never wake again or might chose to leave his body to join his friend in the Halls of Mandos.

Legolas tensed unconsciously, the bad feeling he was having intensifying tenfold. He was no fool; Aragorn had avoided talking about this with such great care and was now only divulging what had happened to the golden haired elf. He took a deep breath and slowly turned his head to the side to look at his friend who valiantly avoided looking at him.

"And Galalith?" he asked softly, in his heart already knowing what Aragorn would answer. "What happened to Galalith?"

When the man refused to meet his gaze, he slowly raised an aching arm and grabbed Aragorn's chin, forcing him to look at him and feeling how his heart constricted in his chest as he looked into large grey eyes that were bright with unshed tears.
"Please, Estel. Tell me what happened to him."

Aragorn swallowed hard, his own grief for the merry elf with the chestnut brown hair once again rising to the surface. He had never had time to mourn his death, and to see the slowly dying hope in Legolas' eyes made everything even worse. He took a deep breath and released it again, his eyes still locked with his elven friend's.

"Rashwe was wounded; an arrow in a hind leg, a wound that is already healed," he began slowly, hoping to soothe his friend a little with the knowledge that his beloved steed was alive and well. Legolas simply continued looking at him, and so he forced himself to continue. "Rashwe did what he could, but the injury weakened him too much. They … they never made it to the palace. Some hours from Mirkwood Rashwe collapsed and couldn't carry them any further. Galalith's wounds were too serious. He was long dead when the patrol reached them."

The only outward sign that Legolas had heard his words was the fact that he slowly closed his eyes, his hand releasing his friend's chin and falling onto the blankets that covered his body.
"I knew it," the elf finally said softly, two tears escaping his tightly closed eyelids and slowly rolling down cut and bruised cheeks. "I always knew he had probably not survived, but … I hoped. I hoped so much."

Aragorn carefully leaned back against the tent pole, careful not to press down on the elf's chest as he pulled him with him.
"I know, mellon nín, I know. I didn't want to tell you until you were better. I am so sorry, so very, very sorry…"

Legolas wanted to retort something, but his voice broke as the grief and the pain of having a long-held hope crumble into dust overwhelmed him. He bowed his head as he realised what a vain hope it had been and that Galalith had indeed died to save him, just as he had feared so many times when he had mulled over what had happened during the long nights.

The confirmation of what he had been dreading for so long on top of his injuries was too much, and so the two tears that had rolled down his cheeks were soon joined by more as the grief for his fallen friend filled his heart, robbing him of what little hope and light there still was.

All Aragorn could do was tighten his hold on his friend and offer what solace he could as the sun slowly rose in the East, casting red-golden light over the snow covered camp.

++++++++++

Celythramir was standing in front of his king's study, not even noticing that he hadn't moved from the spot in more than twenty minutes.

He had just returned from his walk to the palace gates, a duty he had undergone mainly to calm his own more than slightly frayed nerves. He didn't really think that King Thranduil had been serious when he had ordered him to "walk up to the gates and check if someone had pinned a note to the doors saying 'Please feel free to steal out of the palace any time you want, preferably during the night'", but had quickly decided to do it anyway, just in case. Except for the fact that it had given him a pretence to escape the king's presence, he simply didn't want to chance Thranduil's wrath and couldn't afford disobeying one of his orders because he had thought it to be a joke.

There had of course been no such note, but during the walk down to the gates and back to the palace he had come up with many different, interesting ways of killing his son once he got his hands on him. Celythramir balled his fists, his chest filled with a choking mixture of worry, anger and fear. What in Eru's name had Celylith been thinking? He hadn't expected him to betray his friends and turn them over to the guards when they had been trying to leave, especially not when these friends were Elladan and Elrohir, but he had expected him to … well, he didn't really know what he had expected his reckless, stupid, impulsive son to do.

If he was perfectly honest, he hadn't expected Celylith to do anything but what he had done. He might even have been a little bit disappointed had Celylith stayed at home and not left with Lord Elrond's sons and Lord Glorfindel, even though right now he doubted it. Right now he would have given his right arm to be able to hug – or kill – his wayward child. He wasn't yet sure what exactly he would prefer, though the murderous intentions outweighed the caring tendencies at the moment.

With an effort, the silver haired elf took his thoughts off his son, even though it was one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life – or he tried to. Oh, he thought enraged, that insolent, disobedient elfling should only wait until he got back home; he would kill him! Finally consenting himself to the fact that he would not be able to forget about Celylith completely at the moment, Celythramir slowly reached out and rapped at the door.

Something that was either the growl of an ill-tempered bear or the sound made by a cave troll when you poked it with a stick filtered through the wooden doors, and the silver haired elf lord exchanged a weary glance with the guards standing right and left of him. Lord Thranduil was quite often in a foul mood, but today, well, today it was exceptionally foul. Today made even the day on which Lord Elrond's human son had disappeared appear like one of the king's good days.

Firmly telling himself that letting his lord wait would make everything even worse – though in what way, he truly could not see – he decided that the sound had been an invitation to enter, and so enter he did. He regretted it a second later since his king looked up from the papers on his desk as soon as he heard the doors open, a sparkle in his eyes that was either a sign of overwhelming stress or the precursor of madness.

"Lord Celythramir!" he exclaimed, far too cheerfully for the silver haired elf's liking. "For a moment I had believed that you had disappeared as well! It seems to become a plague; perhaps I should give the order to tie every elf not on guard duty to a tree?"

"If your Majesty thinks it prudent," Celythramir answered cautiously. "It might be a little excessive though."

"Indeed," Thranduil mumbled, returning his eyes to the letter in front of him. "You know," he added, "I am in the process of writing the Lord of Imladris to inform him of what happened in the past week. I find it hard to find the appropriate words though. 'Your sons and seneschal decided to sneak out of the palace in a rare act of foolishness to look for your human son who did the same a few days ago to look for my son who has, by the way, disappeared as well. Have a nice day' sounds a little impolite, does it not?"

"It is ... accurate though."

"Accurate!" the King of Mirkwood thundered. "It is an outrage! It is a humiliation! One could think these are the Undying Lands, not the fortified mountains of the Silvan elves of Mirkwood! Someone must have exchanged the guards for statues so that no alarm was sounded!"

"My thoughts exactly, my lord," Celythramir replied seriously. "I have checked though. They are elves, humiliated and shame-faced elves maybe, but still elves. I even nudged one or two of them. They wobbled a little but managed to regain their balance. Definitely no statues."

For a moment, Thranduil merely stared at his advisor who looked back at him gravely before he slowly began to smile, a smile that lit up his whole face and smoothed the lines of worry, anger and fear that had burrowed deeply into his face.
"No statues?"

"No, sire," Celythramir affirmed, "No statues."

"Well," the golden haired king shook his head, "It is reassuring to hear. I don't understand how they got out of the palace, but I find that I don't even care. I will have a word with my son once he … gets back. There are reasons why the ways to bypass the walls and gates are only known to my family and few others. Legolas seems to have developed the habit of telling everyone he knows about them."

"The prince must be severely reprimanded for his actions after his return," the other elf lord nodded, not having missed the pained wince that flashed over the king's face every time his son was mentioned. "Not to mention my son, of course. I think I might first kill him, then send him to my wife's family in Lothlórien, get him back home, kill him again and then send him to Valinor."

"Unfortunately I cannot do the same with Legolas, for he is the crown prince," Thranduil grimaced, throwing the quill he was holding down onto the parchment, blotting ink all over the two sentences he had written until now. It was an open act of agitation that spoke volumes about his state of mind. "Though I am most tempted to throw him into a nice, small cell in the dungeons for a century of two. Maybe even until our time comes to pass into the West, or at least mine does." The king stood to his feet and looked onto the ruined letter with a disgusted expression on his face. "I have just got word from Hithrawyn. It appears that Anardir has woken up. I take it the patrols have found neither the tracks of Lord Elrond's sons and the others nor those of the men?"

Celythramir's eyes darkened even further and he lowered his head.
"No, my lord."

The other elf lord nodded emotionlessly.
"I had not expected them to either. The twins may be Noldor, but they are led by a wood-elf; it will be nigh impossible to track them." He took a deep breath and skilfully hid his disappointment, stepping around the table and walking into the direction of the door. "Would you care to accompany me, my lord? Anardir might be able to help us shed some light onto what happened a week ago."

"Of course, your Majesty," the silver haired elf lord bowed slightly and followed his king out of the door, walking past the guards, who were doing their best to melt into the stone walls, into the direction of the healing wing.

In a matter of minutes they had reached Hithrawyn's sanctuary, and another minute later they were standing in front of the blonde healer who looked none too happy or optimistic now that Celythramir thought about it. Then again, he tried to reassure himself, he wouldn't be able to name one elf in all of Mirkwood who looked happy or optimistic, so why should Hithrawyn be an exception?

The elf in question looked at the two elves in front of him, wishing desperately he could give them some good news. He was of course not overly unhappy that the twins had left the palace (and had taken Captain Celylith with them, for that matter), because only Ilúvatar alone knew what trouble they would have managed to get themselves into this time, but he knew that his king and his military advisor were less than happy about it. He could even understand it of course; one had to be a very stupid or utterly mad individual to enjoy having to inform the Lord of Rivendell that all his sons and his seneschal were missing.

"My lords," he gave the two elves a small bow, "Thank you for coming here so quickly. I do not know how much longer Commander Anardir will remain conscious."

Thranduil nodded and began to walk towards the doors leading to the wounded elf's room, closely followed by the blonde healer and his advisor.
"Does he remember?"

Hithrawyn didn't have to ask at what his king was hinting with that question.
"I think so. He hasn't said anything to anybody since regaining consciousness." He shook his head sadly. "I do not think he intends to speak any time in the near future either."

"Let us hope you are wrong," the Elvenking retorted tensely. "Apart from the fact that I would hate to visit yet another pair of parents with the news that their son was dead or, in this case, fading, I very much wish to find out what happened out there."

"I cannot promise you anything, my lord," the healer said, "I can give you only a few minutes anyway. I may not be able to influence whether or not the young one fades, but I can do something about his physical wounds. He will not die of his injuries if I have anything to say about it."

Both elf lords realised the barely hidden threat in the other elf's voice and nodded obediently before the blonde elf reluctantly stepped to the side, allowing them to enter the small room. Bright sunlight filtered through the light drapes in front of the windows and drew cheerful patterns on all surfaces it touched, and yet it failed to lighten the atmosphere that filled the room. A junior healer who had been sitting on a plain chair next to the bed rose, gave the two elves a small bow and silently withdrew.

Anardir's eyes were indeed open, that was the first thing Celythramir noticed. The second thing was that they were staring into nothing, much like those of a dead person's, an involuntary comparison that caused a small shudder to race down the silver haired elf's back. The young elf would indeed have looked as if he were dead, if not for the dark, choking despair that clouded his eyes; despair that was so tangible and intense that it seemed to fill every square inch of the room.

The two elf lords stepped closer, and even when the king sat down on the chair and his advisor stepped beside him Anardir showed no sign that he had noticed their presence. Celythramir waited for the king to speak, but saw after a few moments that Thranduil apparently intended to let him talk with the elf. He knew him better after all since he was, in the end, responsible for all things military in his king's realm, and had spoken with the golden haired, always slightly anxious commander more than once.

"Anardir?" he finally asked, finding a second later that he had whispered. Somehow it seemed wrong to speak loudly in this room that was filled with so much pain and grief. "Commander, we need you to listen to us. It is very important that you tell us what happened when you were ambushed a week ago. We must know who these men were."

The clouded eyes showed no sign that the younger elf had heard his words, and Celythramir took another step closer to the bed, crouching down next to it so that his eyes were level with the younger elf's.

"Anardir!" he repeated, his tone sharper now even though he winced inwardly at having to raise his voice when the young elf was so obviously shocked. "You are a warrior of Mirkwood! The king and I need to hear what happened! Who ambushed you? What happened to Prince Legolas?"

The elven prince's name seemed to attract the listless elf's attention, and he slowly turned his head until he looked at the two elf lords at his side. For a long moment, he simply stared at the two of them, eyes devoid of all emotions but pain and despair.
"The prince … is not … here?" he asked almost inaudibly, his voice cracking and hoarse with physical pain and grief.

"No," the silver haired elf shook his head quickly, not knowing how long Anardir would remain approachable and aware of his surroundings. "No, Prince Legolas is not here. He never returned to the palace. Who ambushed you?"

Anardir blinked in confusion, his old self emerging for a moment to report to his superiors.
"I don't know," he answered faintly, eyes huge and vacant in his far too pale face. "Humans, they were human … they were suddenly there. Perhaps twenty, twenty-five; they were nearly as quiet as the Dúnedain – took us by surprise. They were not from around here; they were too good, too professional. The prince ordered us to go to get help. I did not want to leave but…" He shook his head slowly, despairingly. "But I did, Elbereth help me. I did."

Celythramir opened his mouth to say something, but Anardir continued, his voice growing softer by the second.
"They were trying to take him alive when I left him. We tried to reach Anondil's patrol, but the horse collapsed and we … fell." He turned his head minutely to the right, locking eyes with the silver haired elf lord. "It happened, didn't it? Galalith … he is dead. He won't be coming back."

The king's advisor bowed his head, his heart breaking in his chest at the softly-spoken, hopeless words. He closed his eyes and was preparing to retort something when King Thranduil's voice interrupted him, sounding as heartbroken as he himself felt.

"No, he won't be coming back, pen-neth," the golden haired Elvenking shook his head. "I am sorry. He is dead."

Anardir simply nodded his head, his eyes clouding over once more.
"I failed him. I failed him, and I failed the prince. I failed them both…"

"No," Thranduil shook his head, "You failed neither of them. You protected my son and followed his orders. You did your duty and more, far more."

For a moment, the despair in the younger elf's eyes receded, revealing a guilt that rivalled the grief in its intensity.
"If I had done my duty, I would have died with my friend."

The blonde warrior turned his head away from them and once again began to stare into nothing, and the two elf lords looked at each other, both knowing that there was nothing more they would learn from Anardir. Even if he had been in a more stable state of mind there was nothing he could have told them; he simply did not know who the men were that had ambushed them a week ago.

The only thing that had been confirmed was that these men had indeed taken Legolas alive, Thranduil decided, his eyes still fixed on the pale, emotionless face of his warrior. It had been something that had been almost sure for they would almost certainly have found his son's body had these men indeed killed him, but deep in his heart he had still been afraid that it was all for nothing and that Legolas was already dead.

After a few moments he looked at his silent advisor whose green eyes were still dark with sympathy and anger directed at those responsible for all this, and both of them rose to their feet, anxious to leave this room that seemed darkened by pain, despair and guilt.

The golden haired king slowly left the room, followed by his long-time friend and advisor, but even in the king's study, many paces away from the healing wing, the darkness that had filled the young elf's room refused to dissipate, seemingly clinging to their very hearts. Both of them knew that, should either of their sons lose a dear friend to death, he would most likely share Anardir's fate, leaving both of them behind bereft and grieving.

It was something neither of them needed to be reminded of however, and so no words were spoken between them about it.

++++++++++

The lead horses were stopping, thank the Valar. He had already imagined it two times, but now it was apparently true.

Aragorn allowed himself to relax minutely, casting a furtive glance around him. It was high time they stopped, too. Night was beginning to fall, and so would Legolas if they didn't make camp soon.

Aragorn gritted his teeth, deciding to give the next man who looked into his direction the look. Not that it would really avail anything of course, apart from the satisfaction he gained every time he saw one of the humans wither and avert his eyes under his glare. It would most probably take some time until one of them looked at him directly, he thought a little disappointedly. The men had apparently learnt that his look rivalled even Legolas', and were refusing to meet his eyes if they could help it at all.

Which was only understandable. If he had any choice, he would kill all of these men, right here, right now, without a second's hesitation. He had told these idiots that Legolas wasn't up to going anywhere, least of all on horseback, hadn't he? Of course he had. He had told them, in a tone of voice that would have impressed even his elven father in its dark intimidation. The blonde human commander had simply ignored him as if he were a particularly annoying insect, and so he had repeated himself, in terms that lacked the eloquence of his earlier statements but that conveyed his meaning unambiguously, or so he had thought. This time, Reran's dark haired lieutenant had hit him and they had ignored him again, leaving him only with the possibility of glaring at the men, and he couldn't even do that since they refused to look at him.

Oh yes, he had told them, and they hadn't listened. And because of that Legolas was very close to falling off his horse, and if they didn't stop, right now, he would fall off his horse and injure himself even more than he already was. Aragorn felt how his fingers wrapped themselves around the rather thick, rather tight ropes that bound his hands in front of him in sudden anger. If his elven friend had even one more bruise when the sun had sunk below the horizon, these men would pay dearly for it. He didn't really know what he would do to them or how he would do it, to be perfectly honest, but he would think of something. To grow up as Elladan's and Elrohir's brother taught you a thing or two about scheming.

Now the rest of the horses were stopping as well, and Ráca stopped sharply, a split second before one of the men who had already dismounted could grasp the black horse's bridle and pull it to a stop. The man didn't even know how lucky he had just been, Aragorn thought darkly as he reluctantly obeyed the order to get off his horse, anxious to reach Legolas' side. Ráca wasn't very happy about their current situation – which spoke lengths about the animal's common sense in his opinion – and had the human really tried to interfere with her in any way, the ranger was sure that his horse would gladly have ripped off the man's arm. He shrugged inwardly. Ráca might not be as evil as Rashwe, but she was very annoyed right now.

Before Aragorn had even taken more than half a dozen steps, his eyes firmly fixed on the swaying figure of the elven prince who was right now being pulled off his own mount, a hand grasped his injured arm and spun him around, nearly causing him to moan in pain. It might not be broken, but it still did not react well to being pulled into random directions, and the stitches he had places in it to close the large tears the wolf's teeth had left did not enjoy direct contact either. The man holding him by the arm, however, did not care overly much about what he or his arm thought about anything, and had he known about the pain he was causing, it might even have added to his enjoyment of the situation. Aragorn sighed inwardly. He was in no mood to deal with Teonvan right now.

"Not so hasty, ranger," the brown haired man told him pleasantly and began to drag him off to the left where several tents were in the process of being pitched. "We wouldn't want you to stumble and fall down in your hurry, now would we?"

Several possible answers blossomed in Aragorn's mind, all of them sentences that would have guaranteed him at least a blow to the face, and he forced himself to keep his mouth shut, hard as it may be. He needed to have a look at Legolas, and he didn't want to chance making a crucial mistake because he hadn't been able to keep from insulting their captors and had been given a concussion or something similarly debilitating. Aragorn gritted his teeth as the other man's hand tightened around his arm as he pulled him over to the tents, closely followed by two men who were more or less carrying the fair haired elf. Judging by what he had witnessed today, Teonvan would do just that, and be it only to vent his anger.

He didn't understand all that was going on in this very confusing camp – in fact, it was probably only fair to say that he understood very little – but it was clear that Teonvan had fallen out of favour because of his actions, if he had ever been in anyone's favour here to begin with, that was. This morning, when Legolas had still been sleeping and he had seized the opportunity to check his friend's stab wound again, finding it closed and looking rather good as far as he could tell, he had overheard a … conversation between Teonvan and the blonde captain, Reran.

Well, he thought dryly, "conversation" wasn't really a term he would use now that he thought about it; there had been enough hatred and threats in each man's voice to impress even the most experienced councilman. It was very clear that Teonvan was not very happy about the prospect of returning home in disgrace to be named a traitor in front of their lord, and equally clear that Reran did not care in the slightest. From what he'd heard, Aragorn was even able to swear that Reran was happy about these developments, even though it was very well possible that what had happened would cause this mysterious lord's wrath to descend also on the blonde captain.

The tension had remained throughout the day, and Teonvan had kept shooting looks of barely veiled anger and hatred into Reran's direction. For a while, Aragorn had thought it rather amusing and had even spent a considerable amount of the day counting the times Teonvan would look darkly at his captain, something that helped him take his mind off his worry for Legolas, their general situation and the pain in his arm. Then, however, all thoughts of amusement had died in his mind when he had realised that there was something else than hatred in Teonvan's eyes – beneath the anger and resentment there was a shrewd, calculating expression, hidden so deeply that only an elf or a quite observant person would notice it. It had been so intense and malicious that it had caused a small shiver of fear to run down the young ranger's spine. Whatever Teonvan was planning, it wasn't good.

Teonvan looked at the younger man with narrowed eyes, feeling incredibly annoyed by his calm and rather disinterested expression, more than he had thought possible. In the day since he had appeared in their camp out of nowhere, the commander had begun to develop the same feelings for the ranger he had long ago developed for the elf: He would have loved to see him broken at his feet, and be it only to look into the man's grey eyes and not see the prideful contempt glitter there as visibly as a torch in the night.

"What is it, boy?" he asked as they waited for the first tent to be pitched. "No comeback, no witty reply? I had expected more from you."

Aragorn kept looking straight ahead, forcing himself to look neither at the other man nor at his elven friend whose presence he could sense somewhere at his back. It wouldn't help to let Teonvan see his concern for the elf or the feelings of hatred and disdain he held for him.
"You would not like what I have to say," he said evenly as he watched the men secure the canvas to the wooden poles. "And far be it from my mind to anger you."

"Well, ranger," Teonvan said, feeling how anger once again welled up inside of him, "For that you are doing quite a good job at it."

"Am I?" the other man replied, turning huge, innocent silver eyes on Teonvan.

Behind them, Teonvan could almost hear the two guards suppress a pair of amused snickers, and with another burst of fury he grasped the younger man's arm more tightly and pushed him forward, sending him crashing to the floor just inside the small beige tent. He waited for the ranger to push himself to his knees and did his best to ignore the glare full of burning hatred the young man shot him.
"Yes, boy," he assured him. "You are."

With a last look at the ranger the commander whirled around and stalked off, knowing full well that he didn't have time to indulge himself in a few games now. Besides, Reran would probably throw a fit if he harmed the ranger – he really a man who didn't understand that there were fine lines a man like himself knew not to cross. He knew how far he could push someone before his limits were reached – a man's, that was. He might have overdone it a little with the elf, yes, but he had practically asked for it. The small smile that had appeared on his lips when he had remembered the previous day disappeared quickly when his eyes came to rest on Reran's dark, sombre face on the other side of their campsite. Yes, he thought and turned on his heel to go looking for his lieutenants. He had much to plan, and much to do…

Back in the tent, Aragorn managed to sit up just in time to catch his friend when the guards shoved him into the tent – not even exceedingly roughly, but too roughly for the weakened elf to compensate. The man barely caught Legolas when he lost his balance and fell forward, and he looked up and glared at the man who was just depositing his healing bag and several blankets and other provision on the floor.

"Do something like this again and I and your captain will have a word about it," he threatened darkly, placing his bound hands on Legolas' chest to stop the elf from sitting up. "I am sure Captain Reran would be most displeased if he heard that you are mistreating your prisoner."

The addressed man merely raised his hands in an appeasing gesture and followed his companion out of the tent, their dark shadows plainly visible against the light-coloured canvas as they took up positions left and right of the entrance.

Aragorn was still staring angrily at the tent's now closed entrance when Legolas' soft, rather weak and exhausted voice drew him out of his dark thoughts.
"You, my friend, should really try not to … antagonise … these men so openly."

The man shrugged slightly and pressed his friend to the floor once more, giving him the best imitation of his father's look he could come up with at the moment, cold and worried as he was.
"I am already containing myself quite admirably," he told the elf. "Stay there. Don't move and don't try to sit up, or…"

"Or what, human?" the elf asked amusedly, but obeyed his friend's order and remained where he was, namely lying on his back.

It was something he would never tell Aragorn, but he was feeling ready to sleep for the next age or two. He had been very close to passing out once or twice today, both from the pain that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his body and the all-encompassing exhaustion and weariness that had filled his heart ever since he had awoken from an uneasy slumber this morning. Yes, it had been true what he had told Aragorn, he had feared that Galalith had died from his injuries, but to hear it from Aragorn's lips had been another thing entirely.

Aragorn turned back to his elven friend, noticing that the faint smile that had played about his lips had faded. One needn't be a mind reader to know what Legolas was thinking about, and so he did what his brothers did when faced with a depressed person, namely made bad jokes.
"I will," he paused dramatically for a second as he put down the new set of bandages and the water flask next to his friend's body, "drug you!"

Had Legolas' hands been unbound and had he had the strength to lift aforementioned appendages, he would have clutched his heart in a wounded gesture.
"You wouldn't dare, ranger!"

Aragorn raised an incredulous eyebrow and began to spread a blanket over his elven friend, working remarkably quickly for a bound person.
"I wouldn't dare?"

"Right," Legolas mumbled as he tried to decide whether he had enough energy left to lift his bound hands to stop his friend from behaving like a big, dark haired mother hen, only to come to the conclusion that he didn't possess the strength to even lift an eyebrow. "I forgot whom I was talking to."

"Obviously," Aragorn nodded wryly and pulled the blanket a little to the side to expose Legolas' bound chest. "In order to protect my stitches I would kill you with…"

"…your own hands. Yes, I heard you the first time," Legolas replied, causing Aragorn's jaw to drop which was still hurting from the blow Cendan had dealt it earlier today.

"You … heard me?"

"Yes, and no. I know you said it, but I can't remember you saying it, if that makes any sense at all."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed a little as he tried to decide if any of Legolas' wounds might have been enough to cause such an interesting diction.
"I … see," he finally said, managing to convey the most profound unbelief in those two words. "You are sure you haven't suffered a head wound you forgot to tell me about?"

"Don't worry about that," Legolas advised him darkly, trying to suppress a wince as the other began to unravel the linen strips that were wrapped tightly around his chest. "I am sure one of them will feel inclined to hit me again soon. You'll get your head wound."

Aragorn stopped in mid-motion, his eyes boring into his friend's.
"They won't touch you if I have anything to say about it. I promise you, Legolas."

"You might not have anything to say about it, mellon nín," the elf shook his head minutely. "Don't antagonise them for my sake, please, Estel. I do not want to find out what Reran will do once he loses his temper."

"That would be interesting," Aragorn nodded, carefully avoiding agreeing to his friend's plea. It was a sign for Legolas' poor state of health that he did not press the matter further. "He is not a person I would like to see angry, and I have seen Glorfindel and ada furious before, so that means something."

"Wait till we get back home," Legolas mumbled wearily. "My father might not have slain a balrog, but he can get angrier than any other being I have ever met." Suddenly a thought struck him, something he had meant to tell the young ranger ever since he had woken up. He shot the shadows their guards cast onto the light fabric of the tent a quick look. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but I … forgot. They don't know who I am."

"I had guessed as much," the man nodded as he carefully peeled back the bandages, once again cursing Cendan's cautious nature as his right arm protested against the strain put on it by the tight bonds. It had been Cendan as well who had tied together Legolas' wrists in the morning, not cruelly so, but tight enough to ensure that the elf could do nothing with his hands even if he had had the strength for it. "You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Yes," Legolas nodded. "They don't know who my father is, and, frankly, I don't want them to find out either. As you said: I was simply in the wrong place. And so were Anardir and Galalith."

Aragorn lifted his eyes from the knife wound in his friend's side, a sad sparkle in their grey depths. He felt the same grief as Legolas, but right now the elf might be too weak to withstand it. He turned his eyes back to his work, trying to lighten the mood.
"So, what did you tell them?"

"Tell them? About what?"

"About who you are," the man elaborated, reaching for the water bottle to clean the wound of what little blood had seeped through the stitches. "I cannot imagine that Reran didn't ask your name."

A light red colour began to creep up the sides of the elf's face and he turned his head to the side, vainly hoping that it would be concealed by the folds of the blanket Aragorn had draped over him.
"He did."

The elf's words were so soft that the ranger nearly did not understand them, and as soon as he had secured the bandage and could turn to the rest of the cuts, Aragorn returned his attention to his elven friend.
"So what did you tell him?"

Legolas' pale face turned even redder, and he mumbled something that not even the sharp ears of a ranger could understand. Aragorn stopped washing a cut and looked the elf's in the face, an eyebrow arched in a way that reminded Legolas very much of the man's father.
"I am sorry?" Aragorn asked. "What was that?"

Legolas sighed softly and turned his head to meet his friend's gaze.
"You will laugh."

"Never!" the man shook his head.

"Yes, you will," Legolas protested tiredly, pain and exhaustion causing his tone to become slightly childish.

"I'll try not to," Aragorn promised. "Come now, my friend, satisfy my curiosity. What did you tell them?"

The elven prince closed his eyes, wondering if he would manage to lose consciousness before he would have to tell Aragorn about his small bout of madness.
"Lasseg," he finally whispered, glaring darkly at the man. "I told Reran my name was Lasseg."

Aragorn nearly dropped the water bottle he was holding, barely managing to catch it with his bound hands. His mouth fell open, and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead in a display of surprise that appeared almost laughable in its intensity. For long moments, he simply stared at his dour-looking friend, who glared at him as darkly as a person who wasn't a fallen Vala or Maia could.

After several more moments, the corners of Aragorn's mouth began to twitch, and a small sound that sounded like a mix of a groan and a chuckle could be heard through the lips that were pressed together so tightly that the young ranger's mouth was hardly more than a thin line. Legolas closed his eyes and let his head sink back onto the blankets. Typical.

A few seconds later, the guards outside exchanged a half-surprised, half-incredulous look as laughter filtered through the heavy material of the tent, and both of them simultaneously shook their heads. Rangers.

++++++++++

Reran was trudging through the snow, suddenly wishing it were summer. It wasn't that he was very bothered by the snow, even though it made travelling rather cumbersome and annoying, no, it was more that he wished with all his heart to be able to see a stone he could kick in a childish fit of rage.

He growled almost inaudibly and quickly checked his course, trying very hard to see the single, tall tree that would lead him into the direction of the small ravine that should be somewhere to the north of their camp. He had told Cendan he would be on a short scouting trip to make sure they wouldn't be getting any surprise visitors tonight – to have a ranger walk into your camp without anyone noticing he was there until he decided to show himself was an experience that tended to make you a little bit overcautious.

If Cendan had known that he had simply wanted to get away from the camp, or, more precisely, from Teonvan, he had not commented on it, which once again proved something Reran had known for a long time: His lieutenant was clever. One day he would make a great commander, if they somehow managed to get out of this mess they owed to his beloved second-in-command, that was.

Reran gritted his teeth as he closed the distance between himself and the tree, his eyes straining to see anything through the quickly falling darkness that was beginning to lay itself over the lands like a thick blanket. He had never thought himself to be capable of such strong hatred, but every time he saw Teonvan he came to the conclusion that he hated him with all his heart. The man had tried to convince him not to tell their lord about what had happened yesterday, claiming that it had been the only way to draw out the ranger and that the elf would be completely healed once they reached their home.

That might all even be correct, Reran thought darkly as he reached the tree and turned to the north-east, knowing that the ravine wouldn't be far now. Teonvan might be right and it might have been the only way to make the ranger give himself up, but that was one of the things he would never, ever, admit to anyone, especially not to Teonvan. This opportunity to get rid of his loathsome second-in-command was simply too good to pass by, and even if he had personally saved his life and those of every single of his men – including the elf, mind you – he still wouldn't have agreed to change his plans.

Teonvan would never have done such a thing, of course, and that was the very root of the problem. All that man cared about was his personal pleasure, and if all his men had to die for him to achieve it, he would be more than willing to live with that. Reran resisted the urge to kick a small, snow-covered oak tree and walked on, inwardly fuming. He had seen what Teonvan had done to the elf, and while he would be the first to admit that the prisoner had very likely invited something like this, it was no excuse for Teonvan's behaviour, none at all. Had the ranger not been there, the elf would be dead now, of that Cendan had been certain and was therefore the truth in Reran's opinion.

Oh no, he thought angrily, he would not change his mind, and he would be standing in the front row when they finally dragged what was left of Teonvan out of the dungeons to the scaffold when Glamir was finished with him. A dark smile began to spread on his face. Oh yes, that was what he would do, and nothing would be able to stop him…

The man wiped a strand of greying blonde hair out of his eyes, coming to a stop when he realised that he was standing only a few feet away from the ravine's edge. It was indeed only a small one, only a hundred feet deep perhaps, but he still didn't want to find out what it felt like to plummet to your doom. He sighed softly and looked down into the ravine, wondering how in the name of all the Gods he should explain all this to their lord.

He needed the ranger, at least as long as it took the elf to fully recover, and yet he mused if it wasn't best to dispose of him now after all. He was dangerous, as was the elf, and once the fair haired being was back to full strength it would be twice as hard to control him. He really couldn't risk the ranger helping the elf to escape – something he would be entirely capable of, as had been proven by the fact that he had managed to lay a false track and sneak into the camp without anyone noticing. Reran shook his head in grudging respect. He was a boy, a boy who could be his son by all means, and yet he had managed to fool him and his scouts. The grudging respect turned into steely determination. He might be little more than a child, but he was a danger to his mission he would not tolerate.

Reran nodded inwardly, watching how the lengthening shadows moved quickly over the lands to swallow everything in sight, much like they did at home. He would get rid of the ranger as soon as possible, but he would not give him to Teonvan, even though he hadn't missed the looks the commander had given both the ranger and the elf over the past day. Teonvan was despicable and would draw it out longer than necessary. He would order Cendan to do it quickly and cleanly; the boy deserved as much. He was talented and skilled in stealth beyond his years, and he would make sure he died quickly and honourably.

The captain's thoughts once again strayed to Teonvan, and he felt how the unease that had been a pressing worry at the back of his mind intensified. He had come to know the man rather well over the past few months, something that had happened quite involuntarily on his part, and even though he would never claim to understand how his mind worked (something he did not desire either, by the way), he knew him well enough to know when he was planning something. He had got that feeling this morning when Teonvan had smiled at him in his subservient, false way that had put him immediately on edge.

No, Reran thought darkly, Teonvan was planning something, and it couldn't be good. Yet there was nothing the commander could do, nothing at all. He was captain here, this was an operation under his command, and he had the authority and the right to decide over the life or death of every single one of his men, and that included Teonvan. If he decided to take his sword and relieve his second-of-command of his head, it would be well within his rights. His liege would be most displeased and he would therefore never do it of course, but, technically speaking, it was his right.

The blonde captain once again nodded to himself and turned around, only to freeze on the spot when an icy shudder raced down his spine, a shudder that had nothing to do with the snow beneath his boots or the icy wind tearing at his clothes. He had long ago learned to trust his senses, and, right now, they were telling him that he was in trouble, deep trouble. Reran gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, suddenly cursing himself for leaving the camp alone. What had he been thinking?!

A few moments later, three shadowy figures separated themselves from the darkness all around him, and when Reran looked into the smugly grinning faces of his second-in-command and his two lieutenants, he realised that he might just have underestimated Teonvan for the last time.

++++++++++

TBC...

++++++++++

mellon nín - my friend
mûmak (sg. of mûmakil) - oliphaunt, one of the great war-elephants of Harad
Tol-in-Gaurhoth - 'Isle of Werewolves', originally called Tol Sirion before Sauron captured it and Minas Tirith at the Pass of Sirion
Dúnedain - 'Men of the West', the Rangers
pen-neth - young one
ada - father (daddy)

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It's not really a cliffy, is it? I mean, it's no main-character-cliffy, that's something, right? I mean, all the main characters are awake and happy - well, maybe not exactly happy, but they're awake. That's definitely something... *g* So, next chapter we'll see a little coup (more or less, anyway), the twins, Celylith, Glorfindel and a surprise character, and more of our intrepid duo, of course. As always: Review, please! *g*

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Additional A/N:

Rei - I won't even pretend that you're incorrect. As I said in the A/N, I did some research (including some internet sites, btw), and found out that, technically, it was possible, but not very likely to happen or very likely to be survived. You're right, but there is really the chance that the victim survives without surgery, especially with spontaneous pneumothoraka (or whatever the English plural may be) which this isn't, admittedly. As I said: I took some liberties because I really didn't think that Aragorn would carry around syringes and other equipment for draining air our of chest cavities. So, you're right. *g*
Gwyn - Finally, someone who doesn't like Cendan. Lots of people seem to like him - don't ask me why, really - and it's beginning to scare me. But you're right: It was slightly predictable that Glorfindel would accompany them. I wouldn't, not for all the gold in the world, but hey: He's an elf lord. They're kinda weird. *g*
Karone Evertree - Yup, it will be remedied soon, don't worry. I wouldn't keep him unconscious all the time - hmm, it's a nice idea now that I think about it though. This way he would be quiet and I would finally be able to write a chapters that's under 19 pages. *g* And sorry to disappoint you, but Aragorn won't tell anyone Legolas' name. He's reckless, but not completely daft. *g*
Kirsten - As I said in the A/N, I am by no means a doctor or trying to become one. I wouldn't last a day, I can't deal with sick people. I am the world's worst nurse. And about the knife wound: I might have phrased it ambiguously, but it was supposed to be on the lower left side, since Teonvan would have been careful not to come too close to the heart. And as I said: Legolas go lucky, otherwise this whole little interesting scenario wouldn't have worked. *g* And you're far too suspicious, the stitches are just fine. That was only Aragorn's I'm-not-as-good-as-elves-personality raising it's ugly head. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!
Sadie Elfgirl - LOL, you're right, that would make an interesting bet. Let's just say that the chances of Aragorn breaking loose are slim to none, that Cendan would love to kill Teonvan but won't unfortunately, and that Reran will soon wish that he HAD killed him. *grins evilly* Yeah, I guess Elrohir loved that little scene, I'm glad you like it too. It was quire funny, too. *g* I like your dignified request. I could never deny it, so here's the next part!
Firnsarnien - *grins wryly* Oh, I'm SURE you loved it. I would have been VERY surprised had you not liked it, in fact. *g* And I am very sure that I didn't do too much damage! There NEVER is too much damage! *evil cackle* Well, yes, there is, if they die it was a tiny bit too much, but... *shrugs* I knew you were going to reactivate the CLF - you people are far too suspicious! Don't worry though, I am not planning to kill him. Celylith: Huh? What about "injure him", then? Nili!! *walks off whistling* Injuring or torturing is an entirely different thing... *evil grin* And that wasn't a cliffy! This one might be, though... *g*
Firniswin - I am glad I didn't offend you. Far be it from my mind to offend my reviewers! *g* You're right of course, Aragorn is going to get himself into a LOT of trouble. It's his own fault, of course. Reckless human. And that chapter wasn't short! It was about 18/19 pages, as all of my stupid chapters. I try to write shorter ones, but I never manage to. Great you like Ráca, even though I can't see why the name merited a war cry. *shrugs* Maybe your brother IS weird.
LOTRFaith - EEk, you did THAT? I mean, I cut myself as well, I tried to cut extremely resilient cardboard and slipped (I still have a rather large rip in one of my favourite pair of jeans), but it wasn't hot. Sounds like fun too, though. *g* And yeah, I am a bad Nili, but I'm sure you already knew that...
Deana - Well, it's now Sunday, so it's at least one time. That's something, right? *g* Sorry for not posting sooner.
TrinityTheSheDevil - LOL, I can just imagine that! I especially liked the bit where the little devil was strangling the little angel with its halo... *g* I like such insane little thought. You know, every time C&S call the Ring of Barahir only Barahir I imagine a full grown man hanging on Aragorn's finger. I mean, Barahir was a man, so... *shrugs* Don't tell me, I am weird. Hope you didn't drink too much coffee while waiting 'patiently'! *g*
Crystal-Rose15 - Well, I'd be cowering too. But the twins weren't of course, since young elf lord do not cower. *g* And the main problem with Aragorn is that he is NOT thinking. I mean, if he were thinking everthing would be a lot different! Oh, and Elladan and Elrohir are most definitely not your usual elves. Of course not since they're half-elves anyway, but... *trails off* Ignore me. And yes, I know the Glorfindel/balrog slayer thing, even though there IS the question if Glorfindel of Gondolin and Glorfindel of Imladris are the same. Tolkien never really said it, so it's up to your own interpretation. Just like with "Do balrogs have wings?". *g*
Just Jordy - Ah, now I understand. Well, there ARE some people who've used wolves before, even though wargs seem to be more popular. And, well, I had to put Glorfindel in since there are loads of poeple screaming for his blood - literally. It's sad, really. *g*
MorierBlackleaf - Yes, I guess "Ouch" is as good a word as any. Rather fitting too, isn't it? Great you like it this far, thanks for the review!
Alexa - You're right, of course - if the four of them ever manage to find our favourite duo without getting eaten by wargs/wolves/orcs/whatever, the men are in trouble. IF being the main word here... *g*
Strider's Girl - Me neither. It's amazing that the story will be over soon. Amazing, but rather reassuring too. Well, I usually review only Zam's, Lina's and Halo's stories, oh, and Miki's. That's because they encouraged me to start writing, and I somehow feel endebted to them. They luckily don't write much, otherwise I wouldn't even have time to do that. As I said in the A/N though, Aragorn won't be injured for a while yet. Legolas needs him right now and the men are rather busy at the moment. Great you received the chapters and could read them, too. That's not always the case. *g*
Jazmin3 Firewing - I absolutely agree. I didn't think Aragorn was stupid either. I think he was choiceless, maybe slightly clueless too, but mainly choiceless. *g* The problem with Reran is that he wants Teonvan to make Glamir's acquaintance. That's a mistake, we all know that, but I guess he thinks he couldn't come up with something REALLY good and painful. I see that YOU, however, have come up with rather interesting possibilities. I think I like No. 4 best. As I said, squirrels can be vicious. Have lots of fun on that school vacation of yours!
Red Tigress - Well, I think I like your plan too. The chances of success are rather small, but I like it. Lots of blood and gore. Fun. *g* And what, you think that one of the twins or Celylith or Glorfindel might get hurt? Really? *shakes head* Ridiculous.... *evil grin*
Zam - Okay, ignore it. It's true though. But I REALLY want a Mighty Authoress Control of Doom™! We could have so much fun together! So ... *cue dramatic music* ... what is your price? And no, you can't have the precious or my laptop. Sorry. *g* I'm very glad you like Cendan of course, but I would be careful if I were you! I don't think he likes you very much, besides, won't Celylith get jealous? Mhahahahaha! *runs off while Celylith glares ar Cendan*
Sirithiliel - Well, I'm glad we cleared that up, since I was _really_ confused for a while. I would never steal someone else's plot bunnies, believe me, I have more than enough of my own. *g* Great you liked this chapter, but the twins and the rest won't arrive in a while yet, sorry.
Forever Unstoppable - Oh, don't worry, in the end Teonvan WILL get what he deserves. I am even beginning to plan who is going to kill him. *g* I would never stop writing just like that, never fear, I am far too perfectionist for that. I hate not finishing what I start. *g* So: I'll end this, eventually, don't worry.
Calenore - Uhm, yes and no. They won't kill each other, that much I can tell you. And I agree: FF.net hates all of us. I will never understand why I fear, but it's clear that it does. It's evil, that's why I think. *g*
Narina Nightfall - Well, I guess it's more like she will most certainly die. Sorry about that. *g* I still don't think that I can forgive you for nearly drowning one of Elrond's books. Everyone who endangers a book deserves to be killed. *g* I love books. LOL, 'elven twister in the dark'? I guess you could say that... And I like the royal laughing therapists. Thranduil could most certainly use some of them. *g* And of course Cendan was having evil thought, who wouldn't when faced with a stupid superior and a pair of annoying prisoners? Well, I hope you're better after that science fair thing! Dancing most certainly is strenuous!
Tychen - Well, don't worry, I was cringing myself when I wrote it. Everyone who even had a sunburn would cringe. *g* And I agree, Glorfindel will wish for a nice friendly balrog to fight before this whole thing is over. LOL, he can get in as much trouble as them, but he can do it in style? Well, I guess our dear Glorfindel woul agree... *g* And I think you're right, I guess the equation is something like (2E+L+A+C) · d · n / t = a with d being the distance from Rivendell, n the number of enemmies, t the number of days spent in captivity and a the number of wounds. *g* I like it.
C. Hobbes - *g* I LOVE Calvin and Hobbes. Hobbes is great, I've always wanted a tiger just like him. I agree, everything is better than the Thirty Years' War, I am stuck with since Oktober. Luckily it's over soon, otherwise I might go insane. *g* Great you liked that last chapter, I'll hope you'll enjoy the rest as well!
Merryelf - Yeah, I thought so too. I was laughing when I wrote that scene - Elladan didn't think it very funny though, don't ask me why. He and Celylith possess no sense of humour. *shakes head* And yes, I already did know that Estel is wonderful. *huggles him* He really is, isn't he?
Nikara - Yes, I've always thought that it's slightly unbelievable that Elrond is a walking dictionary of 20th-century-medicine. I mean, most of the things known now weren't known even a hundred years ago, so I've always thought it at least highly doubtful that they'd know so much about how a body works back in ME. And you're right of course: Glorfindel might even have been worse than the twins as a youth. Who knows? *g*
Orlandofan13 - LOL, I know exactly what you mean! Reviews are the most wonderful thing in the universe! Well, after Diet Coke with Lemon, of course. *g* Well, if your story is a romance you can be assured that I won't read it. The only romances I read from time to time are A/A, and that only about once a year. *g*
Starlight - Ich wuerde da an deiner Stelle nicht die Schuld auf deine Internetnetverbindung schieben. FF.net ist boese und hinterhaeltig. Alles deren Schuld. *g* LOL, das ist doch auch immer das wichtigste: Man muss nicht immer wissen, wie genau etwas funktioniert, man muss nur wissen, dass es wehtut! Und Teonvan hat in der Tat ein wenig ubertrieben, dummer Mann der er ist. Ach, und: Herzlichen Glueckwunsch! Ich hoffe, du magst das Kapitel ein bisschen!
Miss Attitude - Well, that's the main idea. That other people want to read your story and want to know how it's going to end! *g* Thanks for the review!
Amelie - Oh, you were sick? I hope you're better now - being sick is about my least favourite pastime. I don't know about Cendan yet, but I might have to kill him so don't get used to him too much. I agree though: The CLF would be most displeased if I had left Celylith back at Mirkwood. Oh, and don't count on Teonvan running away too soon. I don't think he's willing to admit defeat just yet. I hope you're better now!
Elenora1 - Oh, if you think that last chapter was angsty, then wait till you've read this one. I think this one is angstier, but that's only me. I also think that most of the chapter endings aren't cliffies, and most people seem to disagree. *g* It's very nice to hear that you still like the story, and I'm doing my best to post on time. I know how annoying it can be having to wait ages for an update!
Estelreader - Yeah, I agree. I think that, most of the time, Estel IS stupid and reckless, but in this case I think he didn't have any other choice. Hmm, my Aragorn/Legolas dialogues are funny? Well, okay. *g* Thanks for the review!
Snow-Glory - Nope, it wouldn't do him much good now. Besides, he's a little bit outnumbered, I think about 16 to 1 or something like that. Well, I hope my English isn't bad, but it would never be enough to publish something. It happens very often that I'm sitting in front of my computer and just don't know how to say what I want to say. And I am sure that Legolas would do something drastic to Aragorn - if he had enough strength, that is! *evil grin*
CrazyLOTRfan - *rubs her grazed arm* Dammit, where did that stupid trip wire come from? I could have sworn it wasn't there before... *g* So you're listening to 'interesting' German rap songs? Well, that's ... interesting... *g* And yes, I lived happily ever after - Greek is a wonderful language. I love it. But French isn't bad either. *g* And I agree: Teonvan IS pretty stupid - then again, he isn't really... *trails off mysteriously* I love being mysterious. *g*
Iverson - I really can't see why. I think it's a very nice name, really. Begins with the same letter as mine (and yes, now we can start guessing! *g*), so of course I like it. And your reasoning is correct of course: Aragorn didn't really have any other choice, I mean, he couldn't have left Legolas there, could he? *shakes head* No, of course he couldn't. And believe it or not, I have thought about publishing something since I - obviously - love to write, but I haven't had a real inspiration yet. I hope that will change though. *g*
Kikyo - LOL, yes, most people did saw that coming. Glorfindel is indeed rather predictable, isn't he? *g* Thanks for the compliments, and I hope as well that my muse may forever be healthy and active. Judging by the plot bunnies I keep in the cellar in a cage though, she most definitely is... *g*
Critternut - *g* You don't have to be sorry. It's just a stupid reaction on my part, no fault of yours, really. I might do something equally painful to Legolas though, would that be okay? *g*
Elenillor - Yes, long chapters ARE good - if other people write them. I try - and fail to - keep them under 16 pages, and it's usually like that: *Nili sits in front of her computer screen and has just finished another chapter. She then proceeds to count the pages* "Two - eight - fifteen - eighteen - nineteen and a half? NOOO!!!! Why? It can't be nineteen! A second ago it were only fifteen!! Why!! WHY can't I make them shut up!!!" *coughs* Well, at least something like that. *g*
Marbienl - Well, there are many way to be charming, you know. I'd just say that you're not what most people (including myself) would call charming. Don't worry though: Neither am I. *g* I liked Dorey too, she was just a little bit annoying. I really liked the sea turtles, and the fish with the bubbles. *g* He was cool. Oh, and about your plan: You DO realise that Reran and Co. are professionals? They would have killed a stranger rather than allowing him to stay in their camp or walk around to tell people what he'd seen. Sorry about that, it wouldn't have worked. Thanks for pointing that one thing out for me. Such things happen from time to time, and since it's not a grammtical or orthograpical mistakes they're hard to catch. And don't worry, you will find out what the ED wants with Legolas, which is really quite obvious I think. In about chapter 20 I think. *g*
Suzi9 - Does it? Have popcorn-grabbing-moments? Well, I'll just trust that's a good thing and take it as a compliment... *g* And I am NOT all violent. I am a kind, but misunderstood person. Yup, that's me. *grins innocently* I don't know yet if Cendan will survive all this, but I might allow you to borrow him for a while after this fic is over. I have the bad feeling that he won't be very happy about that... *g* LOL, the RRS, the Ranger Responsibility Syndrome? I like that... Your cousin did that? If I were you, I'd check for Númenórean blood about ... now? I mean, what else can it be? Other than the fact that he's male and therefore automatically stupid and reckless? You know, there is a littel problem with Glorfindel: I have people out there screaming for his blood - literally. They WANT me to hurt him, and who am I to deny several peoples' requests? *innocent smile* Sorry... *blinks* You almost never wore trousers? Jeez, that's backwards alright. I never wore dresses or skirts - I hated them and still do most of the time. And yes, it WAS your fault, no, I am not a female Elladan, and yes, you ARE a reckless Scot. End of story. *g* I really hope you're better, and I am very impressed that you know how to use a sewing machine. I can knit, but I couldn't sew anything to save my life! *g*

*is very much hoping that the formatting won't be screwed up* Thanks a lot for all the reviews! As I have said many times in the past: Thanks so much and all of you really help me a lot! *huggles reviewers*