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.

25. Come Into My Parlour

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

Well, there's good news and there's bad news. I think I'll give you the good news first - I really do not enjoy being throttled, after all. *g*
The good news is that ... uhm, yes, there's a new chapter here? *readers blink unimpressed* Okay, I admit it: I simply made the good news up to make this not sound quite as bad. So: The bad news is that I won't be able to post in a week. *ducks sharp, blunt and all other sorts of potentially lethal objects*

I am really, really sorry, but I have my exams on Thursday and Friday next week, I haven't learned nearly enough, and I neither have the time nor much desire to write or edit any chapters. I really can't tell you when I'll be able to post the next bit, especially since that second evil paper is due just after the exams, but I hope Monday in a week, i.e. in about ten days. Out of the same reason there won't be any replies at the bottom this time, because I really don't have the time for them right now. I loved every single review, as always, and I am very sorry for this, but there really is no other way. I hope you understand.

And I really have to say something to defend poor Glorfindel. I don't really know what myself, but come on, there really was no way the poor elf (or any of them, in fact) could have known that Girion was behind all this, could he? I mean, all they had for a warning were a lot of ominous undertones, far too amused evil minions and a dark, forbidding city - who could have resisted going there? *evil grin* Alright, alright, they were slightly stupid. No, now that I think about it, they were _very_ stupid. *g*


Okay, I've got to return to my books that are beginning to pile up on my desk in a rather frightening imitation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. *g* Here's chapter 25, still without the stubborn ranger I'm afraid (don't worry though, he'll be back in the next chapter *g*). But there's lots of Legolas, Leanro and his sister who aren't really of the same opinion about much and also quite a bit of the twins, who are defintely coming to the conclusion that having come to this place might have been a mistake. *g* Well, we could have told them that, couldn't we?

Have fun and review, please!

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Chapter 25


For a moment it was silent, but then the elven prince opened his eyes again and fixed a pleading, penetrating stare on the young woman's face. His eyes had darkened even more and had now assumed the colour of the sky just before darkness fell completely.

"Please tell me you found this outside the walls next to an elf who is part of a large army ready to attack the city."

Ethoani smiled thinly, the mirth not reaching her eyes.
"I wish I could, Master Elf. I really wish I could."

Legolas closed his eyes again, trying to master the feelings of panic and fear that were beginning to spread inside of him. Every time he thought it couldn't get any worse, something happened and proved how wrong he had been. He reached up with one of his bandaged hands and rubbed his aching forehead, not even noticing that he was rubbing over a large yellow-green bruise. How in the name of all the Valar should he explain all this to his father and his advisor?

"You know him?" Laenro asked curtly, having already been informed by his sister about what had happened at the castle.

"Oh yes," Legolas answered tiredly. "Yes, I do know him. His name is Celylith, and he has been my friend from childhood, for more than ten times longer than your city has existed." He stopped rubbing his forehead and opened his eyes, looking at Ethoani. "When was he captured?"

"This evening," the brown haired girl answered quickly. "He and three other elves came here, looking for you and the ranger. There was no way they could have known that Girion was behind your capture; he has been careful that word of his plans does not spread beyond the city walls."

"What about the army?" Legolas asked incredulously. "The Easterlings' camp must have been visible for miles!"

"They have moved off into the forest to the East. From what I've heard the elves were clearly suspicious but apparently decided to take the risk." She smiled slightly. "It appears that they managed to get our 'lord' quite upset in quite a short amount of time."

The fair haired elf hung his head. That had been to be expected, hadn't it?
"Let me guess: Two of his companions are twins with dark hair, grey eyes and remarkably quick tongues."

"Indeed," the girl nodded. "And the third has golden hair and the wisest blue eyes I have ever seen."

Legolas frowned, trying to determine who that elf could be, when a sudden thought struck him. Lord Elrond would surely not have sent the twins over the Misty Mountains alone at this time of year, would he?
"Lord Glorfindel?"

Ethoani's brow furrowed as she tried to remember the elves' strange, alien names.
"I think so. I don't know though, I am sorry. Your names are hard to remember."

'So are yours,' Legolas thought inwardly, but did not voice his thoughts since he was far too busy sliding into a state of mindless panic. What in Eru's name had happened? How had Celylith and the others found them? Had they found Aragorn's rune and come to the right conclusions? He should have thought of something like this, he thought angrily. He should have asked these humans to warn any stranger who entered this city, he should have made sure that his friends didn't stumble into this trap, he should have…

"Master Elf?" Laenro's voice cut through his frantic thoughts. "Do you think they were alone? Could there be more of your people waiting somewhere close by?"

Legolas forced himself to look up at the man, hating himself as he shook his head and saw the hopeful sparkle in the man's eyes fade and die.
"I don't think so, I am sorry. Had there been more and they had travelled with a group of my f…. – my king's warriors, they would never have sent them as envoys, for that they are far too valuable. The twins are Lord Elrond's sons and heirs who is a very powerful lord on the other side of the great mountain range. They would never have been allowed to come here without a contingent of guards and under the flag of truce, and neither would their companions."

He fell silent, his thoughts slipping further into turmoil. His words were true enough: None of his father's captains would have allowed both sons of Elrond to embark on such a dangerous mission at once. Not even Lord Glorfindel would be able to change anything about it; there was no way all three of them would have been permitted to go into a potentially hostile town to check things out. No, he thought despairingly, the twins must have followed their human brother's example and must have secretly slipped out of the palace to follow them, and Celylith and Lord Elrond's golden haired advisor had apparently decided to accompany them. And now, he concluded, they were all caught in the same trap, were trapped in this dark city that seemed to swallow up light and air and hope…

Legolas interrupted his rambling train of thought right there, the last word causing him to look up at Aragorn's pale face to his right. The ranger looked much better already, and he was really beginning to think that he might wake up soon, something he hadn't been able to hope for this past day. The thought of Aragorn waking up served to bring him to his senses more quickly than a shower of cold water could have. How would he be able to tell his friend that his brothers had been captured?

He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. Yes, that was what he needed to do: Focus on the situation at hand. It was bad, indeed, but it could be much worse. At least he thought so.
"Tell me what happened," he told Ethoani who had been watching him uneasily. "From the very beginning. Don't leave anything out."

"I can't tell you much," the girl shrugged lightly. "I wasn't in the great hall when they arrived; I merely saw them in the courtyard and talked to a few of the other servants later. They arrived and sought an audience with Girion which they were granted, obviously. One of them seems to have recognised a horse in the courtyard that told him that you or the ranger had to be here, and so the whole thing came out. Even if he had not seen it, it wouldn't have changed anything, of course. Girion is said to be very happy to have got his hands on suitable 'substitutes' for you. They have still increased the search for you though; there are even more guards on the streets now than before."

An icy shudder raced down Legolas' back at the young woman's words. Substitutes. Varda Elentári, please no. He gritted his teeth and looked back at Ethoani.
"They are in the dungeons now."

The girl looked at her brother before she turned her eyes onto the fair haired elf sitting on the edge of the narrow pallet.
"Yes, they are. It's now about the eleventh hour. They arrived five hours ago and were brought to the dungeons almost immediately afterwards."

Legolas nodded automatically, not even being aware that he was doing so. It figured, didn't it? They could just as well have stayed in their cell; it might even have been better. Now the twins, Glorfindel and Celylith would pay the price for all the mistakes he had made – just like Galalith and Anardir had. He swallowed thickly. What if Girion knew that Celylith was from Mirkwood, what if he tried to make him tell him what he wanted to know? Legolas knew that his silver haired friend would rather die than betray their people to an enemy, any enemy. Celylith wouldn't tell them anything, and for that he would die. They would all die.

He forcefully shook his head, his eyes once again straying to Aragorn's face. Concentrate, he told himself, he needed to concentrate.
"So what are you planning to do?"

The two humans traded another look, Ethoani appearing uncertain while her brother appeared uncomfortable but determined.

"Nothing," the man finally said slowly and averted his eyes. "There is nothing we can do. The guards in the castle are doubled, there are soldiers everywhere in the city and, most importantly, they are expecting something like this. We were lucky the first time, but we won't be so lucky again. Girion now knows that we pose a bigger threat than he had thought and will have made arrangements to prevent whatever we could do to try and free them. I am sorry, Master Elf," he shook his head, still not being able to look the fair haired being in the eye. "There is nothing we can do. We are in enough danger already, and I cannot risk any of my men any further than I already have."

A part of Legolas wanted to protest against the man's words, but he quickly thought better of it. Laenro had been reluctant to help them in the first place, and nothing he could say or do would be able to sway his mind now. Besides, and that was the worst bit, the man was even right. He and his sister had already risked much for Aragorn and him and he couldn't possibly ask them to risk their lives or that of their men even further on what they would undoubtedly consider a fool's errand.

He simply nodded at Laenro which seemed to greatly surprise the man and slowly got to his feet, trying to ignore the aches and pains in his body. He took a step closer to Aragorn's bed and gave the still unconscious ranger a long look, reaching out and placing a hand on his forehead. The fever had dropped considerably, thank the Valar, and now he was indeed convinced that he would wake up from his fever-induced sleep. The elf gave a mental headshake and withdrew his hand, turning back to the two silent humans at his back.

"See to it that he stays in bed, please. He'll try to escape as soon as he can stand."

Laenro shot his sister a confused look before he hurriedly stepped in front of the elf, blocking his way to the exit.
"What do you mean? Where are you going?"

Legolas gave the man a blank, emotionless look, but stopped in his tracks, mainly because he didn't think he would be able to stand a collision right now. Somehow the few hours of sleep hadn't helped at all; if anything, he felt more tired and exhausted than before.
"I understand that you cannot help us. I may not know my way around this city, but I will do what I can to free my friends."

For a moment, the man was truly rendered speechless.
"What?" he finally exclaimed flabbergasted. "This is madness! You will be caught in an instant! Half the city is out there searching for you! Without knowledge of the north-western district's layout you won't even get to the main street!"

"That is a risk I will have to take," Legolas shook his head stubbornly. "I will not leave my friends in Teonvan's or Glamir's hands if I can do anything about it. All I ask of you is that you look after my friend and, should I fail to return, to keep him hidden until you can get him safely out of the city. He will not want to stay here, but you must force him to."

"I cannot allow you to leave this house," Laenro shook his head as well, a steely glint in his eyes. "I know that you think you can keep your silence should they capture you, and perhaps you even can, but I am not willing to take that risk. There's too much at stake here."

"I would advise you against trying to stop me," Legolas said softly. "You and your sister saved my friend's life as well as my own. I would hate to repay your kindness in a less-than-polite way."

"You are threatening me again, elf," Laenro all but hissed. "This is becoming rather tiresome. Let me make this perfectly clear: You – are – not – leaving – this – house. Understood?"

"Your constant unwillingness to take me seriously is beginning to tire me, Master Laenro," the elf answered, his eyes boring into the man's. "I am grateful for all you've done for me and Strider, but you are not my keeper! Until you want to lock me into this room and treat me the same way Girion and his men have, I would advise you to step aside and let me pass."

"Stop it!" Ethoani's sharp voice cut through the air. "You two are behaving most childish! You," she wheeled around to her brother, "are twenty-five summers old! And you," she glared at the wide-eyed Legolas, "are older than all the inhabitants of this house put together! And yet you behave like two squabbling children!" She took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips. "You are both right. We cannot afford to send any more men. They would be caught before they had even entered the dungeons. But you," she nodded at Legolas, "are not up to going anywhere! Look at you! You are swaying on your feet and are pale enough to give a wraith a run for his money! You wouldn't even get to the castle gates without falling flat on your face!"

"So?" Legolas arched an eyebrow, thoroughly annoyed with these humans now. He was always trying to treat the Second People normally, at least since he had met Aragorn, but it quite often appeared to him that they were really rather slow on the uptake. Besides, about every second of them seemed to think that he or she had to mother him or generally treat him like a twenty-year-old human male.

Next to him, Laenro crossed his arms and gave his sister an exasperated look.
"You took the word right out of my mouth, elf."

Ethoani rolled her eyes at them, apparently marvelling at the stupidity of the male gender.
"So you will not go, Master Elf. I will." She frowned slightly, ignoring the two males' wide eyes and turned serious eyes back on the elf. "I will need something from you, a token or a sign that tells them that you have sent me. I will not be able to afford to lose any time because they don't trust me – like you did."

Before Legolas could even open his mouth, Laenro had taken a step forward, his eyes filled with disbelief and anger.
"You will not go, Ethoani. I forbid it."

"Don't be silly, Laenro," the girl shook her head, her eyes large and afraid, but determined in her face. "You know that this is the only way."

"What I know or don't know is of no importance here!" her brother protested darkly. "I am the head of this house, and you are my sister! I forbid you to go and get yourself killed!"

The young woman's eyes darkened and she took a step closer to the brown haired man.
"You forbid it?" she repeated heatedly. "No one has the right to forbid me to take from Girion what he desires!"

"I have every right!" Laenro retorted, obviously trying very hard not to lose his temper. "I am your brother! If I tell you to stay at home, you are staying! That is the way of things!"

"Yes," Ethoani nodded, suddenly very calm. "That is the way of things. Yet if everything had gone according to 'the way of things', Laenro, I would be married now. Who knows, I might even be a mother! But we will never know, will we?" Anger and another emotion began to cloud her eyes, even though it was pushed back again before Legolas could identify it. "He took that away from me, brother! The minute they killed Ciran all that was taken from me along with him! All our plans and the dreams we had shared were taken from me that moment, my life was taken from me! And even if I will never get it back, I will make Girion pay for doing that to me, to us!"

Ethoani swallowed thickly and turned large blue eyes onto the elf, tears pooling in their sad, desperate depths.
"Your friends, Master Elf. They know things that would aid Girion, correct?"

"Yes, they do," Legolas nodded. "They know many things that Girion would very much like to hear." He noticed Laenro's dark look and added hastily, "But that does not mean that I agree with your decision, my lady. You cannot go back there, you would be captured as well and that would help no…"

"Then it is settled," Ethoani interrupted him and turned to her brother. "Have Sero and someone else await us at the shop in two hours, with the orders to leave if we have not appeared in four hours. Unfortunately there is no other passage as close to the dungeons as the one that ends there. I would like to use another, but I have the feeling that they won't be up to walking a longer distance than absolutely necessary. I will need Sero's help, for I cannot carry four elves all by myself."

Laenro was obviously tempted to say something, most probably something that accused the girl of having lost the last remnants of her sanity, but as he looked into his sister's eyes his expression softened. Instead of yelling at Ethoani as she obviously expected him to, he merely reached out and placed a hand on her cheek, sorrow and affection swirling in his eyes.
"Go then if you must, sister. Do not take any unnecessary risks and come back in one piece. I know that he would not have wanted you to die needlessly to avenge his death."

Ethoani gave her brother a small, quivering smile.
"Another thing we will never know, I fear." She nodded into Legolas' direction before whirling around to the door. "I will leave in five minutes."

Without another word she left the room, her soft footsteps fading quickly in the distance. Legolas slowly sat down on the narrow bed, his eyes fixed on Laenro's face.
"Ciran was the man who got caught seven months ago in the castle, wasn't he?"

"Yes," the man nodded. "Yes, he was. He was … interrogated for more than a week by Glamir and Teonvan and publicly executed, and there was nothing we could do. He also was my friend and my sister's fiancé."

"She must have loved him very much," Legolas said quietly.

"Aye," Laenro looked at his hands. "Aye, she did, and he loved her back with all his heart. When they captured him, he kept his silence long enough so that we could get our people to safety and evacuate most of the other safe houses he knew about, but even in the end he never betrayed her or the location of this house. It is the most profound proof of love I can think of under these circumstances." He shook his head minutely and raised his eyes again. "We will need something she can show your friends. It has to be small enough so she can hide it, like a piece of jewellery or a small weapon like your friend's dagger. If she is supposed to get them out, she must not attract any attention."

Legolas nodded darkly, doing his best to try and feel even the tiniest bit as confident as Ethoani and her brother. Girion wasn't stupid, and neither was Glamir. He knew that the brown haired girl had a much better chance than any of them to actually do what they had been talking about, but all his instincts rebelled against sending another one, and a human female at that, into danger. Still, he also knew that this was the only possible way and that neither he nor Laenro would be able to change the young woman's mind now.

"I think I know just the thing," he said slowly, trying to think of something both the twins, Glorfindel and Celylith would recognise. "They will know that it's from us." Legolas reached over to where Aragorn's few undamaged pieces of clothing lay on one of the two chairs and quickly searched through them, finally locating the small item he had been looking for. He painfully straightened up again, deciding that Ethoani was right and he would really not have made it to the castle gates. He offered the object to Laenro, who quickly took it. "Here. Tell her to look after herself, not to allow them to start talking because they'll never stop and not to lose it if somehow possible."

Laenro merely nodded and turned into the direction of the door without a word, but stopped on the threshold when the blond elf's soft words sounded through the dark room that was only lit by a small lamp in one of the corners.
"You fear she will be captured and die just like her fiancé, don't you?"

For a moment, Legolas thought the man wouldn't answer him, but then Laenro turned, a dark, unreadable expression on his face.
"No," he said quietly. "No, I do not. The risk of capture is something we have learned to live with a long time ago." His eyes darkened even further and his voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "What I fear is that she won't try to avoid it hard enough."

The man shook his head again, gave the elven prince a small nod and turned around, quickly walking out of the room and leaving the elven prince and his human friend behind in the small, dark room.

Had Elrohir been up to it, he would have started pacing back and forth. No, he thought darkly over the pounding in his head, he would pace over to that wall, give it a good look to ascertain its solidity and start banging his head against it.

That might increase the pain in his head, but at least it would take his thoughts off their current situation. Elrohir growled, that thought only serving to incense him even more. He had been such a fool, they had been such fools! They should have listened to Glorfindel when he had told them to turn around and leave, they should never have set foot into this accursed town!

The dark haired elf took a deep breath and resisted the urge to open his eyes, knowing that the world would start spinning again if he did. The nausea inside of him began to grow and rise up the back of his throat, and he decided that taking deep breaths was a stupid idea. To take small, shallow breaths was the way to go. Oh, wouldn't his father be happy to see him?

The mental image of his father's scowling face invaded his mind and brought him out of his musings and back to reality and its small, dark cell. He balled his hands into fists to distract himself from his surroundings, and, more importantly, from what had happened recently – and was still happening. A sharp, insistent echo of pain at the back of his mind made him wince and clamp his eyes even more tightly shut than they already were. He knew what that meant; it was something he had felt many times in the millennia he had already lived, far too many times.

It wasn't his pain he was feeling, and yet it was. It was Elladan's, and since a part of him was forever linked with his twin, he felt strong emotions and feeling with his brother. And that stab of pain that had just run through his body from his already aching head to his bruised toes had been intense enough for him to guess how much worse it had to be for his twin right now. For a moment, fury washed over him and he pressed the back of his head against the cold wall of the cell. Why did Elladan always have to be so … so unbearably protective? He was only a few minutes younger than he, it could not be more than five minutes in Elbereth's name, and yet Elladan always acted as if he was centuries older than he! What gave him the right to do such things!?

Elrohir allowed himself to hold onto that anger since it drowned out a little bit of the fear, pain, worry and panic that were threatening to pull him under. Nothing gave his dear brother the right to do such things, that was the answer, and that was exactly what he would tell him as soon as he saw him again. If he saw him again, a small, dark voice in his head noted a second later.

The younger twin quickly pushed it aside, preferring not to think of such things. That was one thing that had never scared him much, because he knew that he would never be separated for long from his twin. Neither of them would survive the other's death, and even if one of them did die here in this horrible, dark place, the other would follow him soon into death. It had always comforted him in an odd way to know that he would quickly follow his brother to the Halls of Mandos should he be taken from him, but, somehow, it failed to reassure him at all right now.

This time, it wasn't only the two of them; this was no hunting trip that had gone wrong or a fight with a horde of orcs whose numbers they had underestimated. This time, there were Celylith and Glorfindel to consider as well, and …. Estel and Legolas. Elrohir felt how his heart constricted even more. The mere thought of his merry friend or his little brother in this place, in such a cell, in the hands of these people was enough to make his blood run cold.

Elrohir's thoughts were once again jumbling and beginning to stray into random directions, and he forced himself to ignore his pounding head and to concentrate on what had happened today. It would help him stay awake, and having to stay awake was very important. He couldn't truly remember why, but it was very important.

Alright, the dark haired elf thought wryly as he tried not to pay attention to another sharp pain that stabbed through his head. So, what had happened?

First: They had walked into the stupidest, most obvious trap he could remember having ever seen in his life. Alright, they had more or less walked into it knowingly, but since they had still been captured, that didn't really count as a success, did it?
Second: They had been dragged into the darkest, dankest dungeons he had ever been in – and about that he was certain. Orc camps and caves did not count as dungeons, so this was positively the most foreboding, uncomfortable place he had been in for a long time.
Third: They … they were in deep trouble.

Elrohir suppressed a small, erratic giggle, the healer in him noticing that his head wound was probably a lot worse than he had first thought. Yes, they were indeed in deep trouble. After they had been dragged down here, they had been pushed into these small, damp cells that were barely bigger than their wardrobes back at home in Rivendell. In fact, that might actually have been an insult to their wardrobes back at home.

Be that as it may, the cells were tiny, but that wasn't what had bothered them most, of course. What had really bothered them was the fact that they had been separated: Elladan and he had been put into this excuse for a room, and he suspected that Celylith and Glorfindel were occupying one just like it at the moment, only a little further down the corridor. He couldn't be sure, since the walls and door were thick, and neither he nor Elladan had been able to hear where their companions had been taken.

They had only needed to exchange one look after the door had closed behind them to come to the conclusion that, this time, they had outdone themselves. They had still been in the process of enumerating all their faults and all the mistakes they had made when, only about half an hour after they had been thrown into this wonderful room, the door had opened again and they had been dragged out. After quite a long time of turning left and right and right and left during which he had completely lost his bearings they had arrived in front of a smooth, well-made door – and everything had gone downhill from then on.

Elrohir shook his head and froze instantly when sharp pain had lanced through his temples. There was one positive thing about all this: If that Glamir person was busy with him and Elladan, he didn't have time to "interrogate" either Celylith and Glorfindel or Legolas and Aragorn.

In the same moment the younger twin came to that decision, another, this time much sharper pain stabbed through his head, causing him to suck in his breath and hold it in an attempt to block out his twin's pain. He took everything back, he thought darkly, there was no positive thing about this whole situation, and that was because his stupid, over-protective brother had once again tried to divert attention from him to himself.

Deep in his heart he knew that he would have done exactly the same had he been a little bit more coherent and his head hadn't hurt quite as much, but that didn't change anything of course. He was still here, alone, his heart breaking in his chest bit by bit every time he felt an echo of his brother's pain – and all that just because Elladan had once again decided that he needed to protect him, his "little" brother.

Elrohir's anger that was based solely on his worry and fear for his twin faded a little when he thought back of what had happened only about an hour or two ago – he had lost count in here. Elladan had indeed inherited what their father had once called their grandmother's Elwing's talent to know instinctively what to say to make someone so furious he forgot everything around him, that much was sure…


This time, Elrohir actually saw the concussion coming his way, something he had never thought possible or had experienced before, and he had sustained this particular kind of injury quite a few times in the past – and not always in battle.

There was hardly an elf he could think of who hadn't broken a few bones or concussed his or her head as elflings – except maybe Glorfindel if one could believe his words, which no one ever did, of course. If one believed the golden haired elf lord, however, he had been the prime example of a wonderfully obedient, well behaved child who had never disobeyed his parents or done anything to get himself or his friends into trouble. This was usually the part where Glorfindel's audience broke into loud, roaring laughter since everybody knew that Glorfindel must have been a terror as a child – it was simply not possible that he had changed so much and had started displaying his mischievous, overly merry nature only after reaching his majority.

Be that as it may, Elrohir thought detachedly as he watched the club that was being swung at his head come closer as if in slow-motion or some kind of trance, Elladan and he had been anything but well behaved, obedient elflings, and he freely admitted that they had got into their fair share of scrapes and trouble. And therefore, he concluded dreamily, he knew exactly what a concussion felt like, namely like … this.

The wooden, metal-plated club connected with his left temple and turned his world first blindingly white and then dark as night, and he felt as if someone had pulled the rag out from under his feet, sending him into a free fall to the floor. He was still clear-minded enough not to expect a collision with it, knowing full well that he was shackled to the wall and would go – or fall, for that matter – nowhere in the near future.

In the moment the weapon hit him and the impact plunged his senses into a frantic, sickening abyss of chaos, pain and confusion, the sounds all around him faded out, making it hard for him to distinguish between the voices and the roaring sound of the rushing blood that throbbed through his head with every quick heartbeat. He felt a warm liquid soak into his hair and trickle down the side of his head that had sunken forward, and it wouldn't have surprised him in at all had the same fallen off his shoulders and dropped to the floor to roll away.

A pain-filled, soft moan sounded overly loud in his ears, causing him to realise that it must be his and that he really needed to keep his mouth shut in the future. He felt how the word faded out even more, but somehow, the voices became clearer and more persistent, and so he was soon able to hear what was being spoken in this horrible, sickeningly homely room, if he only combated the pain in his head strongly enough.

"…stupid fool! You could have killed him! I told you, not – the – head, didn't I?"

That was the small man's voice, he realised a moment later, and he didn't sound too happy. Under any other circumstances Elrohir would have smiled. It appeared that … Glamir – was that his name? – didn't appreciate the club's owner's over-eagerness in the slightest – which was the first thing Elrohir could agree on with this man.

"Typical," a voice that Elrohir thought to be his own interjected. Since he seriously doubted that he would even be capable of articulating monosyllabic sounds, the younger twin came to the conclusion that it must be Elladan's voice, which sounded furious, worried, pained and even a little bit calculating all at once.

"What is typical, Master Elf?" That was Glamir again.

"Oh, you and your men's incompetence, of course," Elladan went on, sounding amused and contemptuous. "Elbereth Gilthoniel, what a sad performance! You cannot even control your men, how could you hope to extract any information from us? You are clumsy, slow humans, that is all."

Panic washed through Elrohir's body, lending him enough strength to open his eyes the tiniest bit. What in the name of Eru Ilúvatar did Elladan think he was doing? He had been perfectly happy – well, happy might be the wrong word, but he had been satisfied – that the men had picked him for their little demonstration of 'the many uses of a metal-plated club', and now that reckless fool went and ruined everything!

For a moment, Elrohir's eyes refused to co-operate, but then he saw something he hadn't wanted to see under any circumstances: A white-faced Glamir standing in front of his twin who was being held tight by three guards and was giving the man his patented, arrogant look of absolute, heartfelt superiority, a look that had managed to incense even the most even-tempered, controlled beings on Arda. It was a look that did precisely one thing to most people: Awake the overpowering, irresistible urge to kill Elladan. Elrohir nearly closed his eyes again. Why had the Valar given him such an idiot for a brother?

"You are being … very unreasonable, Master Elf," Glamir told Elladan softly. "Not to mention rude, of course. If you do not want to take your brother's place over there," he nodded over to the semi-conscious, bruised and bloodied Elrohir who was flanked left and right by two guards, one of them holding a large, metal-plated club and wearing a shame-faced expression, "I would advise you to hold your tongue. You know my lord's orders, I presume, and you will agree that 'alive' is a term that leaves a lot to be desired in terms of precision."

"Your lord!" Elladan snorted, the calculating look in his eyes lost on the small, grey haired man who was obviously in the process of losing his temper. "He is a madman, and if you or any of your men had enough courage and intelligence to see it, you would agree. You are but men who think they can be a match for the Firstborn. You are pathetic, nothing more, just like Girion who needs to abduct and torture people for information he is not skilled enough to obtain through any other means! If this," he nodded at his ashen-faced twin, barely concealing the open worry on his features, "is all you can do, we'll be at this a long, long time! It is time I have, but I doubt you do. You are, after all, only mortal. You are weak, and will forever stay weak. You want to be an artist? Ha! All you are is pitiful, pitiful and sick and desperate to prove your self-worth by breaking other men, no matter how much you want to deny it."

At that point two thoughts flittered through Elrohir's mind with amazing speed, one followed quickly by the other. Had Elladan taken complete leave of his senses!? To provoke this small man like this was nothing but suicidal, or… calculation, he realised a moment later. Had he been able to speak, he would have begged his twin to be silent. If there was one thing he didn't want to see, it was his brother being hurt in order to protect him.

The older twin had, however, not averted his eyes from Glamir's slowly reddening face, which had turned from angry-white to dark red during his monologue. It took the man a few more seconds to regain control over his body, and a couple of seconds later he stepped forward and smashed his fist into Elladan's face.

The dark haired elf's head was thrown backwards by the surprising force of the blow, and he raised it slowly a moment later, blood trickling down from his split lip and adding to the dark spots that could already been seen on his light grey shirt that originated from other small wounds on his face and torso. He raised a mocking eyebrow, the arrogant expression still firmly attached to his face.
"And this is supposed to change my mind?"

For a moment, Elrohir's befuddled mind that was having more and more trouble to concentrate on the present expected the grey haired man to throw himself down onto the floor in a childish fit of rage – something he would even have understood. There was no one who knew better than him how incredibly annoying his brother could be, after all, and as an elfling he had done just that many times.

Glamir resisted that urge though, however hard it may have been for him to do so. He merely took a deep breath and stepped back, motioning to the guards left and right of Elrohir.
"Get him off the wall and back to their cell. I think I and his dear brother have some things to discuss. We'll have more than enough time to take care of him later."

The men bowed their heads in acknowledgement of the man's orders and stepped closer to the younger twin, each of them working on one of the metal manacles. A moment later the hinges opened and released the elf's chafed wrists, and the sudden movement of falling forward before he was roughly caught by one of the men proved to be too much for Elrohir and his pounding and rather uncooperative head.

The swirling darkness in front of his eyes grew and intensified, and the last thing he saw before he lost his grip on reality and fell into the dark abyss that opened up in front of him was his brother's small, victorious smile.


And it had been the very last thing he had seen, too, Elrohir concluded darkly. He hadn't kept his eyes open for longer than a minute after he had regained consciousness about ten minutes ago here in their cell – at least he thought it was their cell, for it could easily have been another one that looked like it. There was nothing by which he could identify it, not that he cared much overly much anyway. It was small and dark and he was alone, that was all that mattered.

Elrohir suddenly realised that the pain in the back of his mind had abated somewhat, something that filled him with the most profound sense of gratitude imaginable. He would kill all those who had dared hurt his brother, he vowed inwardly – after having killed aforementioned sibling, of course. He would strangle that reckless, hot-headed fool for behaving so stupidly, the Valar help him! He was sure he would manage to do that, even without opening his eyes. He would simply wrap his hands around his dear twin's throat and … squeeze…

The low sounds of footsteps permeated the fog that seemed to fill the small space of the cell, and a moment later the door was opened and a body was thrown in, luckily right on top of Elrohir, therefore cushioning the fall. Only after the door had closed again Elrohir began to move, forcing his aching eyelids to open. Once his eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness, he saw what he already knew: The body that had knocked him so rudely against the stone wall was Elladan, even though he hardly recognised him in the darkness, so changed was he from what he had looked like a few hours before.

"Elladan? Brother! Answer me!"

Not even the smallest moan could be heard from the other elf, and the reasons for that quickly became apparent to Elrohir. The older twin's shirt was gone, leaving him bare-chested and shivering slightly even in his obviously unconscious state. Elrohir frowned darkly as he forced his eyes to remain cooperative, why was he shivering? It wasn't that cold in here, and he rightly shouldn't…

The question of whether or not Elladan should feel cold faded abruptly in his mind as he painfully moved to the side to extricate himself from under his brother. He managed to move to the side and lay the other elf onto the floor without jostling him too much, and that was the point all his thoughts screeched to a halt and a cold emptiness began to fill his heart.

Elladan lay on his side, still propped up against the cold, damp stone wall. His torso looked relatively unmarred, apart from a few swiftly darkening bruises. Elrohir himself looked much worse, but the other's torso wasn't what caused his heart to freeze inside of him. His back… O great Manwë, his back…

Elrohir forced his feelings to the back as his mind, summoning all his experience as a healer as he tried not to lose his head. He ignored his own aching body as best as he could as well as the fact that his head seemed to experience the sudden urge to try and self-combust and carefully reached out with one of his hands, thanking the Valar that neither he nor Elladan had been bound before they had been thrown in here.

When he had managed to turn his brother onto his stomach, he felt how his jaw clenched in fear and sudden, overwhelming fury. Elladan's back was covered in weals, weals that looked so orderly and perfect that he thought for a moment that some kind of machine must have made them. Less than an inch separated the deep red welts, running in exact, vertical lines from one side of his twin's body to the other.

Elrohir forced himself to throw off the paralysing fear and rage that filled him and slowly reached out to examine the injuries, realising that this had to be what Glamir considered "art". Hatred so fierce that it threatened to choke him welled up inside of him, and he had to consciously stop his hands from shaking with it. How dare this man hurt his brother like this, he thought enraged, how dare he…

His train of thought was interrupted when a soft moan cut escaped the prostrate figure on the ground, and Elrohir leaned forward, placing one hand on the only place he could find on the other's back that seemed uninjured: His neck. The younger twin's head seemed to be of the opinion that bursting into at least seven different pieces was a good idea, but Elrohir pushed it back, ignoring the pain as best as he could.
"Elladan? Don't move."

For several moments, Elladan didn't answer, but his movements ceased and he lay still once again. Finally, when Elrohir thought he might have lost consciousness again, the older twin whispered back, sounding about as exhausted as Elrohir felt.
"Wasn't … planning…"

Despite their situation, Elrohir had to smile.
"That is well, gwanur nín. You wouldn't get far anyway." He attempted to shake his head but froze as pain lanced through his temples, making him inhale sharply. "Why do you always do such things, brother?" he added after a moment. "I am just as old and mature as you are; you needn't protect me all the time."

"You are … my little brother," Elladan stressed and blindly grasped his twin's hand, attempting to push himself into a sitting position. "It doesn't matter if by a minute or three thousand years. I am the oldest. They would have hurt you more, I couldn't allow that."

"I am fine. Really," Elrohir glowered at his brother, but helped him sit up and lean against the wall with one of his shoulders. "And what am I supposed to say when they hurt you instead of me and I have to watch? Tell me that!"

"You didn't watch," Elladan pointed out breathlessly.

For a moment, Elrohir experienced the very vivid urge to strangle his brother, but forced himself not to. He had had this particular conversation a thousand times with his brother, and he would have it a thousand times again. Neither of them was willing to back down from his position, and Elrohir was beginning to suspect that it was something they would keep arguing about for all eternity.

"What did they do to you, Elladan?" he asked softly and shifted slightly to get a better look at his brother's back. "What did this?"

"Whip," the other elf answered curtly, not being able to suppress a small shudder that raced through him at the memories. "The weals are symmetrical, aren't they? He was very proud of them."

Elrohir bit his lower lip, grateful that the other couldn't see his face. How much he wished to kill Glamir!
"What else?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible as he looked for something he could use to clean his brother's wounds, knowing that Elladan never offered the entire truth about his injuries.

He shortly contemplated ripping a piece of cloth out of his own, rather tattered shirt, but quickly decided against it. There wasn't much left to rip to pieces, besides, he didn't have any water anyway. The bleeding had, thanks to Elladan's elven healing powers, already stopped, and if he were to start bandaging these cuts now with his not really clean shirt it wouldn't help in the slightest but only increase the danger of infection.

Elladan hesitated, apparently contemplating whether he should tell his twin the rest or not.
"There was a … potion of some sorts," he finally admitted softly. "They poured it into the welts. I don't know what it was, but it feels … wrong, somehow. It burns and is cold at the same time. I can still feel it. I think it may be some kind of poison."

Irritation that Elladan hadn't told him about this sooner welled up inside of the younger twin, and to mask that feeling he reached out and felt the other's forehead, to his obvious chagrin.
"You do feel a little warm," he agreed reluctantly, inwardly deciding that this brew might have been the reason for Elladan's shivering that had still not abated. He shifted slightly so that he could look into his brother's face, eyes dark and large in his shadowed face. "How bad was it?"

"Bad," Elladan admitted after a few seconds. "Very bad. I'm surprised you couldn't hear me."

Elrohir took another deep breath, the hatred inside of him even intensifying, before he forced himself to smile, trying to distract his twin who obviously felt guilty that he hadn't remained silent the entire time.
"I think this cell is too far away," he said lightly. "Besides, I woke up only recently."

"Oh," Elladan merely nodded and carefully leaned back against the wall, proving to his brother that something definitely was wrong. After contemplating for a moment whether he should allow Elladan to tell him when he was ready (which he never would be, he knew his brother well enough to realise that) Elrohir frowned slightly and reached out to grasp his twin's chin, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"There's more," he stated quietly, barely hiding the fear in his eyes. "What else did they do?"

Elladan looked as if he wanted to deny everything, pain and uncertainty swirling in his eyes, but then he bit his lip, his eyes darkening even further.
"Nothing," he said slowly. "They did nothing to me. It's … Estel."

"What?" Elrohir let go of his brother's chin, the fear in his heart even growing. "What do you mean?"

"That man – Glamir," Elladan began and closed his eyes. "He told me some things. He started bragging sometime towards the end when I had made him really angry." He shook his head quickly. "Lies, that's what his words are. Nothing but lies."

"What did he tell you?" Elrohir asked again. "Please, brother, I need to know."

Finally the older twin raised his eyes, naked fear in their grey depths.
"He said he was dead," he said emotionlessly. "He said he had allowed the captain of the men who captured Legolas to do with him as he pleased. He said that they had needed Legolas alive, but not Estel."

For a moment, Elrohir was rendered speechless, but then he shook his head forcefully, clinging to the pain that movement brought to clear his mind.
"He's not dead," he stated flatly. "He lied. Our brother is not dead, and neither is Legolas."

"How can you be sure?" Elladan asked back, seeming to sag against the wall. "You cannot be sure! We don't know anything; we don't even know if they're still here!"

"But they were here," Elrohir tried to soothe his brother and leaned back against the wall as well, resisting the urge to close his eyes again. He sensed that he would lose consciousness as soon as he allowed his eyelids to drop, and that was something he couldn't allow under any circumstances. He needed to look out for his stubborn twin after all – Elladan wasn't the only one who could behave over-protectively.

"Yes," his brother mumbled. "He described them well enough. At one point or another, they were here. But I don't know if we can assume that they … are … were…" Elladan frowned, obviously trying to remember what he had wanted to say. "If they … what was it we were talking about?"

Elrohir glanced at his twin at his side, worry plain to see on his features. He peered intently into Elladan's face, squinting slightly and cursing both his pounding head and the darkness of their cell. There was pain in his twin's eyes, yes, and worry and fear and guilt as well, but there was also something else, a … glazed, overly confused look that he didn't like at all.

"About the fact that you need to rest," he suggested gently. "You will need your strength, brother. Sleep a little; I will keep watch."

Elladan's frown deepened and he fumbled for words, appearing to get more confused by the second. The frown on his face deepened as he tried to come up with a reason to object to his brother's plan, but it became harder and harder to think. The pain in his body and especially his back began to take over his mind, and his thoughts felt as if they were stuck in quick-sand. He vainly fought against a sudden wave of heat that swept through his body and threatened to tear his increasingly fragile connection to reality asunder, and finally nodded reluctantly.

"Alright," he mumbled, looking at his twin with bleary eyes. He didn't resist when Elrohir gently moved next to him and pulled him closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder.

"It will all be alright, gwanur nín," Elrohir whispered softly to his brother, the worry in his eyes fading and being replaced with mounting fear. "You'll see, we'll be out of here in no time, will find that troublesome princeling and our equally troublesome brother and will get back home to father as quickly as we can. Just imagine, we will be able to listen to ada lecturing Glorfindel for a change! That will make him so happy, won't it? He rarely gets the chance, since it's usually Glorfindel's turn to lecture him on the foolishness, recklessness and the general inappropriateness of his recent behaviour. Do you remember that lecture he gave ada when we got back home last autumn, after that business with Cornallar, Donyc and his men?"

Elladan nodded against the younger twin's shoulder, his skin beginning to feel hotter by the second. Elrohir growled inwardly. He would kill these men; hadn't they done enough? Why did they have to poison his brother? He forced himself to return to the present, continuing his soft soliloquy for his Elladan's sake. He knew that his twin was right, that their chances of escape were slim and that it was very well possible that both Aragorn and Legolas were already dead, but Elladan also needed all the rest he could get, and agonising about things that neither of them could change would not help him in the slightest.

"'Twas truly a sight to behold, was it not?" he went on, becoming increasingly anxious about his brother's unusually accommodating and obedient behaviour, not to mention his rising temperature, of course. "Can you still remember it, Elladan? The way they stood there on the steps leading to the main house when we arrived, Erestor and Glorfindel and all the other – like icy, disapproving statures! And then, after Erestor had all but broken down in front of ada and had begged him for forgiveness for letting the three of us go after him, the lecture Glorfindel gave him."

He smiled slightly, caught up in the memory.

"'Elrond Peredhil, I always knew you were your parents' son, but this time you truly outdid yourself! What in the name of all the Valar were you thinking, my lord? Do you know how I felt when I returned from Lórien to find this place in chaos? Do you? You didn't even take an escort with you, in Manwë's name! This is hardly the behaviour befitting an elf lord of your status! You cannot simply ride out without an escort and expect me to sit down and relax! You could have been seriously injured! You could have been killed, and I would have had to tell your parents-in-law! Honestly, Elrond, I really thought you had more sense than that! If you ever do something like this again and do not take me with you, I will personally make sure that…'"

Elrohir's smile widened for a moment as he savoured the memory. It had been very satisfactory to hear Glorfindel lecture his father thus, and the look of reluctant acceptance on his father's face had been even more enjoyable…

He leaned back against the cold stone wall and took a shallow breath that was enough to renew the ache in his ribcage. He needed to give his brother only a look to ascertain that he had lost consciousness, something that was probably for the best, too. He wouldn't be able to bear seeing his brother in pain, no matter how much Elladan insisted to be "fine". He knew that he was anything but "fine", and the fact that his twin was beginning to feel ever warmer and was beginning to shiver more strongly was doing nothing to put his mind at ease.

Elladan's condition didn't change in the next few hours; it only became worse if anything. His temperature kept mounting, and Elrohir realised that it might have been a mistake to allow his brother to go sleep. He himself was having more and more trouble clinging to consciousness, and when he had just come to the conclusion that his uncertain hold on reality would hardly last longer than five minutes now, he heard the sound of a key that was turned in the lock of their door, closely followed by the slight screeching of the door hinges as the wooden door was opened.

The – in his eyes – unbearably bright light that filtered into the small cell seemed even brighter once the door closed again and was almost enough to make him lose the fight against the darkness that had been creeping up on him over the past few hours. His eyes that had closed on their own account needed some convincing before they agreed to open again, however reluctantly.

For a moment though, Elrohir thought that he had in fact lost consciousness and was dreaming now, because in front of the once again closed cell door stood a young human female with brown hair that looked more annoyed than anything else by his wide-eyed stare. Elrohir squinted and carefully closed and opened his eyes, but the sight remained just the same: A brown haired girl in a grey-black uniform and a dark cloak, holding a small lamp and wearing an exasperated, impatient and also fearful expression.

The girl watched him and his unconscious brother for a moment before she slowly took a step closer to them, a tentative smile on her lips.
"I take it you wouldn't believe me if I said that I am here to help you?"

Elrohir regarded her with the same expression he would have shown a person who had just asked him whether he believed Sauron to be a friendly kind of person.
"No?"

Amusement mixed with the annoyance and fear on the young woman's face, and she knelt down in front of the two elven twins who were sitting with their backs to the wall, setting down the small lamp in the process. She reached into a pocket of her grey skirt, apparently searching for something. A moment later her fingers closed around a small object and she withdrew her hand, a sliver of metallic silver gleaming in the lamplight as it came free of the grey material of the girl's clothing. Elrohir instinctively recoiled, his arm with which he cradled his unconscious and now definitely feverish twin tightening around Elladan's still form.

The girl merely sighed, mumbled something about irritating elves and slowly and carefully held out her hand, palm-up and displaying a small object no bigger than one inch or an inch and a half in diameter. Elrohir stared at the small item, his eyes getting so round that a part of him feared his eyeballs may come loose and drop into his lap. A second later his free hand shot out, grasping the silver object and bringing it closer to his face, disbelief and anger on his emanating from him when he had made sure that his pounding head wasn't playing tricks on him.

"Where did you get this?" the younger twin hissed a second later, raising his eyes and spearing the girl with the look. "Speak! Where – did – you – get – this?"

Ethoani shook her head, inwardly wondering just why she was doing this. From what she had seen, elves were quite mad creatures, and hadn't they been what Girion wanted, she would have taken great care not to come too close to one of them. Girion did want them, however, and that was, as she had told Lasseg before, more than enough for her to make sure that he didn't get to keep them. She knew that their options were few and their operations no more than small nuisances to their "lord", but she was willing to do whatever she could. One day Girion would fall, and she would be there when someone ripped his black heart out of his chest.

"I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean," she retorted, getting back to her feet. "It was given to me by a friend of yours. An elf, blond hair, blue eyes? His companion's name is Strider, a man not much older than I am, with dark hair. The elf said you would recognise it and realise that I was sent here to free you. I do not have time to quarrel with you like I did with him."

Elrohir only gazed steadily at the young woman, trying to think as quickly as he could. Was it true? Was this some sort of trick? What if she was spoke the truth? His gaze returned to the small silver, leaf-shaped brooch he held. The letters engraved on it formed the word Elrondion, son of Elrond, but even if there hadn't been enough light to read them Elrohir would have recognised the small piece of jewellery everywhere. He knew that brooch, Elladan and he owned the same, after all. Their father had given them to each of them the first Winter Solstice after Estel's twentieth birthday, after his human brother had learnt of his true identity and heritage. It had been his father's way of letting all of them know that, no matter of what race they were or where fate would take them, they would always remain his sons, and that nothing would be able to change that. The younger twin swallowed quickly. There was no way Estel would have given this brooch up voluntarily, unless he absolutely had to or hadn't been able to prevent it.

"I need your answer now, Master Elf," the girl went on, her eyes wandering nervously over the small cell. "Are you going to trust me or not? We are running out of time! You are either coming with me now or I will go and see if your companions are more reasonable than you. I wanted to come back and get them too, but if you want to remain here, I can leave now."

Elrohir didn't answer immediately but rather stared at the young woman. There were a thousand things he wanted to ask her, from how she had known they would be here to who she was and how Aragorn and Legolas were, but he realised that these were questions whose answers would take too much time. He realised that this was the best chance any of them had to get out of these dungeons, but still, this girl was from this town, this much was sure. He didn't trust anyone who was from this town.

"They are alive? And free?" he finally asked. The girl simply nodded her head in a slightly exasperated gesture, causing the younger twin to give a sigh of relief. Praised be Ilúvatar's grace… Elrohir opened his eyes he hadn't realised he had closed and gave the increasingly nervous-looking woman a hard look. "The elf who gave you this, he is of the reasonable, accommodating kind, isn't he?"

The young woman raised her eyebrows and smiled wryly.
"Not exactly, no. He is stubborn, arrogant, over-protective of the ranger and does not know the meaning of the word "obedience" if you ask me."

"That's him alright," Elrohir nodded and climbed to his feet, pulling Elladan up as well and slinging one arm around his twin's waist to keep him upright.

The girl appeared amused for a moment but apparently decided not to comment on the elf's behaviour and nodded into the unconscious twin's direction.
"Glamir?"

Elrohir's eyes narrowed and he gave a curt nod, his gaze returning to his brother. Ethoani nodded again and turned back to the door, reaching out for the key she had left in the lock.
"Then we have to hurry. That potion can be deadly, and while I don't know how dangerous it is to elves, I have the feeling that you wouldn't like to wait and find out."

That was something Elrohir did agree with, and so he pushed down his mounting panic for his twin and carefully took a step forward, and, when his head didn't appear to explode as he had feared it would, another and another until he was standing next to the young woman. The fact that Elladan wasn't as heavy as he had first feared emboldened him considerably, and so he managed to step out of the cell as soon as the door swung open. He stopped almost immediately again as he nearly stumbled over the crumpled bodies of the two guards that had been standing watch next to the door.

Behind him, the girl cursed silently and bent down to drag the two guards into the cell, grumbling under her breath. It took her quite a long time to move the lifeless bodies into the small room, along with a small, earthen mug and two cups. After some minutes she stepped out of the cell, quickly locked the door and began to walk down the corridor, throwing nervous glances over her shoulder. Elrohir blinked at her retreating back and finally began to follow, managing to catch up after a few seconds.

"Did you do this?" he gasped out, finding that Elladan was a lot heavier than he had first thought after all. "Are they dead?"

"Yes. They shouldn't have trusted anyone who brings them something to drink, especially not when they do it with a smile and gentle words," Ethoani nodded, casting yet another look over her shoulder. This was too easy, she thought panicky; far too easy. There were almost too few guards here, and to avoid the patrols had been too easy as well. If she didn't know better, one could say that they … wanted them to escape. She frowned. That was impossible, wasn't it?

Next to her, Elrohir gasped again, but this time in shock and outrage.
"But why!? You could have just drugged them! There was no need to…"

"Yes, there was," Ethoani shook her head impatiently. "The fewer guards there are around here, the better off we'll all be. Besides, I actually did them a favour. Girion would have had them killed as soon as your escape was discovered anyway, and believe me when I say that this death was cleaner and quicker than anything that would have awaited them."

Elrohir wanted to retort something, to tell this woman that she was wrong, but admitted to himself that she was right. These two men had been dead the moment Legolas had somehow managed to convince this woman to try and rescue them, and to criticise her for the methods she had chosen would not only be wrong but also foolish. He swallowed the sharp words that were on the tip of his tongue and kept following her, all his strength and thoughts concentrated on not stumbling or letting his brother fall. This potion was potentially lethal to humans, wasn't it? What if it worked like that on elves as well, what if…

He was brought out of his worried thoughts when he nearly ran into the girl who had abruptly stopped, her head cocked to the side. Before he could gather enough breath to ask her why she had stopped she looked back at him, eyes large and afraid in her face.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered.

Elrohir frowned heavily, but then he realised what their mysterious guide had meant: Even over the sound of his own, overly loud heartbeat that echoed in his ears he could hear the small, shuffling sounds of booted feet, followed by what sounded like the small rattling sound, as if a scabbard had scraped over stone. The younger twin blinked tiredly, his exhausted, pain-filled brain needing a few extra seconds to realise what that meant: They were not alone. They probably hadn't been alone from the very beginning.

"I knew it!" the girl hissed and grabbed Elrohir's arm, pulling him forward without any concerns for the dark haired elf's injuries or the fact that he nearly dropped his feverish twin. "This was too easy from the very beginning!"

She kept pulling the two of them forward, looking at the elf with wide eyes who returned the stare just as shocked. The sounds behind them became even louder, and with a calm detachment that could only be attributed to his apparently rather serious head wound Elrohir realised that they were surrounded. Small sounds could even be heard from in front of them, even though they were still faint, meaning that the men were still a bit away, but other than that all other ways out of this cleverly laid trap appeared to be blocked.

He was still thinking about what he could possible say or do to convince this obviously rather mad girl to release his arm when the same stopped in front of a large tapestry, jerking it aside with a panicky, barely controlled movement to reveal an opening in the stone wall and a door at its far end. She started fiddling with the large ring of keys that rattled loudly every time she touched one of the metal keys, her movements becoming more urgent by the second. Finally she seemed to find the key she was looking for and all but thrust it into the lock, turning it frantically and breathing a loud sigh of relief when the door swung soundlessly open.

She turned to the dark haired elf who was holding his brother upright and was staring at her with wide, somewhat glazed eyes and grabbed his arm again, pushing him and the elf he steadied into the direction of the door.

"Go," she told him urgently, intently listening to the sounds of the men that were drawing closer. They didn't know where exactly they were, but that would change soon enough. Girion had most likely not trusted his men with the locations of the secret passages so that the guards wouldn't know where to look for the escaped prisoners, but the dungeons weren't too big. They would find them in a matter of minutes, no matter what she did.

"Go now," she repeated, pushing the small lamp into the elf's hands. "Follow this tunnel to its end and knock on the door you will find there, three times, then two, then three again. Two men will be waiting for you and will take you to your friends. Tell the elf that I am sorry that I couldn't save his childhood friend. He'll just have to make due with the two of you."

That was enough to snap Elrohir out of his pain-filled stupor. He had no idea what was going on here, but he knew that he didn't like the sound of this at all.
"What are you talking about?" he whispered fiercely, trying to hold on to Elladan and not to allow himself to be shoved deeper into the passage that loomed in front of him. "What is the meaning of this?"

"The meaning of this, Master Elf," the girl whispered back, a small, frighteningly calm smile on her face, "is that you need to get away from here, now. I will try to distract them as long as I can, but I'll guess they'll follow you eventually, so I would hurry up a little if I were you."

"But…"

"They'll be here in a minute," she went on, cutting off the elf's voice sharply. "In the shape you two are in, we cannot hope to outrun them unless they are distracted for a while. You are more important than me by far, and Girion must not have you. I would have liked to save your two companions as well, but it appears it wasn't meant to be."

Ethoani swallowed, listening to the guards who were drawing ever closer. She pushed the elf forward, over the threshold of the heavy wooden door, and reached for its handle, prepared to close it into the dark haired being's face.
"Please go. It is what I want, Master Elf. Tell my brother to evacuate the houses and not to come for me, under no circumstances."

Elrohir merely stared at her, his exhausted, pain-wrecked head not really comprehending what this girl was talking about, and so she took a small step forward, her eyes boring into the elf's.
"Remember that! He must not try to save me; it is too late already and would be far too late then. It has been too late for a long time now." Her hand tightened on the wood of the door as she gave the elf a last look. "I am sorry. Tell him that as well."

Without waiting for Elrohir to answer she closed the door, the sound of the key turning in the lock following only seconds later. The dark haired elf thought he could hear the heavy fabric fall into place as the girl stepped out of the niche in the wall, but soon all sounds of the young woman's footsteps were drowned out by shouts from the men who had trailed them, shouts that grew louder and louder by the second.

Elrohir shook his aching head slightly, deciding that there was nothing he could do for her now. Even if he hadn't felt as wretched as he did he wouldn't have been able to stop the girl, burdened with Elladan's unconscious body as he was. She was beyond his aid now, as were Celylith and Glorfindel; his brother, however, was not.

The dark haired elven twin clenched his teeth and grabbed the small lamp that had been thrust at him with his left hand, balancing it precariously while he tried to take a firmer hold on Elladan. After a moment he took a hesitant step forward and then the next as he began to walk down the dark tunnel, soon leaving the guards' agitated shouts far behind.

TBC...

gwanur nín - my (twin) brother
ada - father (daddy)




I am beginning to think that suicidal tendencies might have begun to manifest themselves in a large percentage of my characters. *shrugs* Must be the contact with Legolas and Aragorn, I really have no other explanation... *g* So, as I said in the A/N, the next chapter will probably be here in about ten days, plus/minus two. *readers who've been with us for some time raise incredulous eyebrows* Okay, okay, make that _plus_ two days... Anyway, I'll try to post as quickly as possible, I promise. This time, reviews will most definitely make a difference, so: Review, please! *g*

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Additional A/N:

Once again: I am sorry for not replying to your wonderful reviews! Under normal circumstances, if I had to choose between you guys and university, you'd win every time, but today the fear of a possibly very humiliating performance on my part next week outweights almost everything else. I promise to reply to the next round, and hope you're not too cross! *apologetic smile*


Just to answer a few questions I would undoubtedly have forgotten in ten days:

Littleadryan - Yes, Aragorn was indeed 88 years old in LOTR. Normal men live in ME just as long as in the real world, but those of Númenórean descent (meaning they have elvish blood) live considerably longer, more than twice as long.
Alasse_Tiwele - I am not planning a story about how they met at the moment, sorry. To be honest I haven't really given that much thought, even though I do not follow C&S' universe, so all I can tell you is that they met differently. But one of these days I will probably write it, don't worry. It just might take some time...
Elenora1 - You are right of course, and the reason why Legolas seemed relatively "uninjured" was more or less that I didn't have anyone who could mother him. The humans don't really care and Aragorn is still unconscious. I hope that it will become a little clearer in this chapter, and he is most definitely not 'fine'! *g*
Miaow Artsy - No, it's not intentional that the recent chapters contained less humour than the previous ones, but you have to admit that there isn't much one could consider funny at the moment. Besides, you always need someone to appreciate the joke, and it doesn't work if that someone is unconscious etc. *g*
Narina Nightfall - I don't really know, but I guess the story will be about 32 chapter. No more, perhaps even less. I really hope to wrap it all up by chapter 30, but I doubt it somehow.
Jack - You didn't really ask a question, but I had to tell you that I loved your little sentence. Especially the spelling, very nice. *g* Great you approve (well, that's something we knew all along, didn't we?), and after our dreadful exams the story should get _really_ interesting for you! *evil grin*
LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel - Once again, no real questions, but I wanted to thank you for your countless reviews. I don't have time to reply to all of them, I just wanted you to know how much I enjoyed all of them! Thanks!!
Iverson - Of course you can found a Save Cendan Club (or SCC) if you want to! I don't think it exists yet... And I'll get the grades for my paper on Tuesday, wish me luck! *g*
CrazyLOTRfan - If you want a good online-dictionary, go to http : // dict. leo. org. (I write it like that so that it won't disappear. Stupid FF.net *grr*) It's the best German-English dictionary I've been able to find, I use it all the time myself! Even though I have to admit that the translation of 'elf' is still wrong... *g*
Nedi - No princeling torture coming up for a while, sorry. I don't believe in excessive violence or torture (Stop laughing! *g*), so there won't be any Legolas torture for a while. No, there won't be any, 'cause battle wounds don't count in my opinion. *g*
ThE iNsAnE oNe - And again, no real questions to answer, but I had to thank you for your huge review! I especially liked you a-z reasons for disappearing for so long, my personal favourite is currently f., closely followed by q. and t. *g* I am very glad to hear that your problems are ... well, abating a little. *huggles*

Alright, that's it. I apologise to all those to whose reviews I couldn't reply, but I guess you prefer getting the chapter now without replies than in two or three days with them, right? *smiles* I really hope so...