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.

27. Point of No Return

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

*beams* I am so glad you liked Oswald Spald... *glares darkly at Zam for giving the poor thing that particular name* I mean, the Ox. I think he is cuddly and adorable too, and I'm sure Elrohir would realise that as well if he wasn't unconscious right now. *evil grin* Poor twin. I don't know yet whether or not Celylith will see it again (IF he manages to survive the whole thing in the first case, that is *even eviller grin*), but he might.

Oh, and the "dashingly handsome warrior" Glorfindel so modestly talked about wasn't Legolas, sorry. It was he himself, the whole thing was an allusion to "Straight Paths", my little story No. 3, in which the whole thing plays a rather important role. I think I even mentioned it in ch. 1 in the A/N, but I should have put a note in the last chapter. Sorry if I caused any confusion. Oh, and no, I still won't tell you what the word is, sorry. *sheepish grin*

And a last note before I go away and trouble you no more - well, at least not for another week. *g* I'll try to make this as clear as possible: There - won't - be - any - Legolas - torture - anymore. *large part of the readers get up and leave the room* Yes, well, I'm very sorry about that, but I don't believe in excessive torture - stop snickering back there! *glares* I don't mean to say that Legolas (or Aragorn, for that matter) won't get hurt anymore - which they most definitely will, because battles are very dangerous things, aren't they? - but there won't be any more torture for them, strictly speaking. Battle wounds do not count. *evil grin*


Alright, yes, I'm going, don't worry. So, here we have the next chapter in which the - mostly unconscious - twins and our intrepid heroes are reunited, Lord Súliat's delegate returns and has a little chat with a very, very displeased Girion and there's a bit more of Glorfindel and Celylith, who are both still well and rather uninjured. So far. *g*

Enjoy and review, please!

---

Chapter 27


No matter how hard he tried to hear what was being spoken downstairs, he simply couldn't make out more than a couple of words, Legolas realised, more than a little bit annoyed. All he had been able to understand was "elves", "guards" and, most surprisingly, something that sounded suspiciously like "ox" – which was most probably a misunderstanding, there was simply no other explanation for it.

He sighted in exasperation. He would need to go down there – something he would have done anyway, if he was perfectly honest with himself. There was, after all, the chance that the girl had managed to free Celylith and the others, and if that was so, they would almost certainly need his help. It was his fault that they were here in the first place after all, his and no other's, and so they were his responsibility – not to mention his friends, of course.

He turned back to his human friend to tell him to stay here while he went and saw what he could find out, only to realise another thing: As soon as he thought he knew Aragorn and the full extent of his recklessness, the man would do something so incredibly foolish that it surprised him time and again. Right now, the young ranger was in the process of trying to get up, a procedure that was causing his face to turn a truly interesting shade of grey.

For a moment, Legolas contemplated giving the man a chance to explain himself, only to remember that he had never seized such a chance when he was concentrating on one of his suicidal endeavours.
"What exactly is it you are trying to do?" he finally inquired, the exasperation in his voice reaching new, unheard-of levels. "If you are attempting to kill yourself, my Lord Aragorn, just say it, I beg you. I would be most happy to oblige your wish."

"Funny," Aragorn grumbled as he once again fell back onto his mattress. Someone – and he already suspected who it had been – had exchanged muscles, bones and tendons in his legs for pudding. "Very funny indeed, your Highness. What would make me truly happy though were if you gave me a hand and helped me stand. I don't think it would make such a good impression on our saviours and hosts – not to mention my brothers, of course – if I crawled out of this room, down the stairs and right into their meeting."

"And to stagger in looking like one of the dead themselves will make a much better impression, I presume?" the fair haired elf shot back and glowered darkly at the rather unimpressed man. "Really, Estel, this is foolishness. You just woke up; you will help no one if you collapse in front of the twins and the others."

"Something is wrong, Legolas, and you know it," Aragorn retorted, once again preparing to try and propel himself to his feet. "There might be my brothers down there, not to mention one of my old teachers and an annoying wood-elf of whom I have become quite fond. You wouldn't stay here if you were in my shoes either. You can deny it if you wish to, but both you and I know that I speak the truth."

Legolas knew that just as well as the ranger in front of him who was emphasising his words with a large-eyed, pleading stare, but he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of actually affirming it. He merely folded his arms in a stubborn gesture that would have caused the man to smile had Aragorn been a little less busy with trying to will his legs to obey him and to ignore the pain that had awoken in every single square inch of his body. The elven prince sometimes looked so much like his father that it was almost unbelievable.

"I am not allowing you to get out of bed, human, and I am most certainly not helping you to go anywhere," Legolas informed him darkly. "Thesieni, the healer, expressly forbade me to let you put one foot out of the bed, and your father would kill me. No," he added thoughtfully after a moment, "he will kill me anyway, but if I let you get up, he will kill me and make me suffer before granting me death."

"Then just imagine what he will say if I tell him that you intentionally allowed me to fall flat on my face," the man ground out, trying to convince his body that standing up was not a bad idea. Right about now, his body did not agree in the slightest, but rather insisted on considering the incomparably more attractive possibility of lying back down. "If you do not wish to help me, it is perfectly fine with me and I will crawl down there, but trust me on this: I will crawl down there. There's no way I'll stay here if my brothers and friends need my help."

Legolas didn't say anything but simply stared at the young ranger, horrible visions of what Lord Elrond would do to him if he ever found out that he had allowed Estel to get hurt on purpose dancing through his mind. With an annoyed headshake Aragorn stopped glaring at the elf and, with an abrupt motion of his arms, propelled himself to his feet. A smug smile began to spread over his face that only lasted for a few moments because he began to topple over, a rather amusing expression of annoyance and dread on his face. Before he could hit the ground though, Legolas had sprung to his feet and grabbed him, quickly slinging an arm around his waist.

"Do not confuse this with approval," he advised the young man darkly. "I am simply bowing to your pigheaded stubbornness. If you wish to get yourself killed, alright, do it. Just don't expect me to drag your body back to your father, because I absolutely refuse to."

"A pity," Aragorn grinned at his friend, trying to get his rather irregular breathing under control. "He would be delighted to see that his predictions of doom and dread regarding my immediate future in light of my reckless behaviour that would 'surely get myself killed' some day were correct."

"I doubt it, mellon nín," Legolas shook his head as he grabbed a wide shirt Laenro had provided in a rather surprising act of generosity. He ignored the man's protestations that he was old enough to clothe himself and pulled it over Aragorn's head, having decided that it would most certainly not make a good impression to let the ranger walk around this house clad only in a pair of breeches and numerous bandages. "No," he went on, paying the dark, rebellious look on Aragorn's face no heed, "He will be anything but delighted, believe me. The only thing that comforts me at the moment is that I will most likely not survive the reunion with my father, so there is no need to worry about yours at the moment."

"I wish I could say the same," the man retorted lightly, having decided that Legolas wouldn't care in the slightest if he glared at him or not. The elf began to half-carry him over to the staircase, unfortunately proving to him that Legolas was right and he wasn't strong enough to walk yet. Well, he thought wryly, there was no need to tell him that, was there?

"No," he went on, "I very much doubt that your father will kill me if … when we get back. He will merely hand me over to a contingent of guards that will drag me back to Rivendell. No, wait, he will accompany them and watch while my father cuts me into tiny little pieces."

"I don't think your father would do that," Legolas shook his head, ignoring the way his own body protested against Aragorn's added weight. It took most of his concentration to manoeuvre both of them the narrow, wooden stairs and to stop them from tumbling down headfirst. "I think he would strangle you; Lord Elrond seems to be the type for it. My father, on the other hand," he grabbed Aragorn a little bit more tightly, "is, rather surprisingly, I know, a supporter of the more subtle approach of letting people starve. He will simply put me into a dungeon and forget about me."

"Simple but effective," the man nodded breathlessly. "And you don't get your hands dirty."

"Precisely," Legolas nodded as well. They reached the bottom of the stairs, causing both of them to breathe a quick sigh of relief. For a moment, the elf had truly thought they would both fall down the stairs and most likely break their necks. He turned to the right, following the sound of raised voices. "It is very inappropriate for the subjects to catch their king strangling someone. It's so very … messy."

Aragorn grinned tiredly while his eyes swept over the unfamiliar surroundings.
"I see your point. You wood-elves are very peculiar people."

Legolas grinned back, but before he could say anything similar about the Noldor in general and the Noldorin elves of Imladris in particular, they reached the room adjacent to the front door he already knew. It looked much like the time they had arrived here, namely in complete and utter chaos. Legolas' eyes widened considerably as he took in the sight in front of him, and he felt how Aragorn sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

The first thing the elf noticed, feeling very much as if a large stone had been lifted from his chest, was that the twins were here, thank the Valar. A small stab of guilt joined the relief a moment later as he realised with strong disappointment that, while the two Noldor were here, Celylith and Glorfindel were not. His thoughts quickly returned to his two friends though and he frowned and tightened his grip on Aragorn who seemed to be torn between freezing in shock and the urge to run over to his brothers.

And he had good reason for it, too, a small, wry voice in Legolas' head remarked. Both of the twins were unconscious and so covered in blood and bruises that it was quite hard to tell them apart. Right now he thought that it was Elladan whose back was covered in welts and Elrohir who looked as if he had had a violent encounter with an ill-tempered ringwraith, but there was really no way to be sure.

Aragorn, however, did not seem to have any doubts whatsoever, and with a strength born of fear and worry the man wrenched his arm out of Legolas' grasp and rushed forward, into the direction of the two elves that were lying on the floor. One of them was in the process of being tended to by Thesieni, and the ranger steered over to the other twin, a look of horror on his face.

"Elrohir!" he called, oblivious to his surroundings as he fell heavily to his knees and immediately began to assess the elf's injuries. "Elbereth, Elrohir, what did you two get yourselves into this time?"

Thesieni looked up, and a look of such disapproval spread over her face that, for more than a second, both Aragorn and Legolas were strongly reminded of Hithrawyn. Other than the blond healer back at Mirkwood though, Thesieni didn't appear very fond of dark, reproachful lectures, and she contended herself with giving her patient who was so blatantly ignoring her professional recommendations a look that promised a long and serious discussion later and returned her attention to the elf in front of her.

"You know something about healing?"

"Yes," Aragorn nodded absent-mindedly. "What happened?"

The elderly woman raised a grey eyebrow.
"Would you believe me if I told you that at least that one got on the wrong side of an ox?"

"Yes," Aragorn nodded again without batting an eyelid. "Absolutely."

For a moment, even the usually so unflappable healer blinked in mild confusion, but then she quickly nodded again, and a second later the two of them were discussion the twins' condition, Thesieni barking out orders for bandages and healing herbs faster than the men in the room could react.

Legolas would have nearly followed the ranger, and be it only to drag him back to bed, but then he decided that he would only be in the way. He knew what Aragorn could be like when he was worried and concentrated on a patient, something that seemed to apply also for Thesieni, and there was no way they would listen to him now. Besides, these were the man's brothers they were talking about, so absolutely nothing short of a miracle or a contingent of guards would have been able to pry Aragorn away from the twins' sides.

The word "guards" brought his attention sharply back to the situation at hand, and he looked up, searching the room where more people than he had thought would fit into the rather small space hastened back and forth. Finally he spotted Laenro in one of the corners, who was sitting on a chair someone had apparently rather hastily pulled up judging by the way the worn carpet on the floor next to it was bunched up around its feet.

The elven prince made his way over to the brown haired man as quickly as he could, and when he came to a stop next to him, he didn't have to ask what had gone wrong. The answer was written on the young human's chalky white face as plainly as if someone had painted it on his forehead in black ink.

"Ethoani?" he asked the cloaked man standing next to the chair.

The man turned to look at him, and Legolas remembered his name now that his face was plain to see. It was Sero, Laenro's grey haired second-in-command, on whose face deep sadness and a barely hidden horror could be seen. He merely shook his head, his eyes returning to the face of the disconcertingly quiet man in front of him.

Legolas gritted his teeth, feeling how a wave of guilt slammed through him. He should have kept that foolish girl back, he shouldn't have allowed her to go after the four of them… A moment later, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and raised his chin as he looked back at the grey haired man. He would have liked to leave the two of them to their grief, but if Ethoani had been captured, they were no longer safe here. Guards could appear here any second, and they would take all of them back to the castle. No, he decided darkly, there was no way he would allow anyone to take Aragorn or the twins back to Glamir or Teonvan.

"I am sorry," he began carefully, "but you must tell me what is going on. How did this happen? What about the other two elves?"

Laenro didn't even seem to realise that he was being spoken to and didn't move a muscle. The usually so quick-tempered man's listlessness was something that frightened even Legolas who didn't know him well, and so the elf looked imploringly at the other's second-in-command.
"Please, Master Sero, I know that this is hard for you, but…"

"Do you?" the man asked darkly and turned to look the elf in the eyes. "Do you really? I have allowed a girl I have known for most of her life to get captured by people to whom I wouldn't even hand over my worst enemy!" He grabbed Legolas' arm and pulled him a little bit away from the white-faced Laenro, a look of sadness and swiftly growing guilt on his face. "Nine years ago, just before they came for him and the boys, I promised their uncle to look after the two of them. I promised not to allow anything to happen to them, and see what happened! She is just a child, for the Gods' sake! Do you know what they'll do to her?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded solemnly. "I do know. I know how you feel, Master Human, truly. I have lost many of those I had sworn to protect, and many a time I had to bring the parents of one of my soldier's the news of their son's death. The promise you speak of honours you, of course, and yet you know as well as I do that it was a vow you could not keep. You cannot protect someone forever, no matter how much you would want to. Trust me, I know."

"That mustn't deter you from trying," Sero shook his head stubbornly. "And I tried nothing! She simply stayed there to distract the guards and give at least two of them the chance of escape, and where was I? Where were we?"

"Where you had to be," the elf interjected softly. "She knew the risks, she told me that more than once. What we need to do now is to find a way to free her."

A hollow laugh sounded behind them, and the two of them turned around, looking at Laenro who had raised his head, his eyes wide and devoid of everything but shock, fear and anger.
"Free her?" He shook his head. "You do not know what you are talking about, elf. You understand nothing!" The young man slowly rose to his feet. "She is already as good as dead, and so are your friends! Not even someone on the inside could help us now! She is going to die, and we and everything we dreamed of and hoped for will die with her!"

"I refuse to accept that," Legolas shook his head, ignoring a small voice inside of him that was telling him insistently that now was probably not a good time to argue with the man. "There has to be something we can do! We cannot simply leave them there!"

"'We'?" Laenro repeated, his shock slowly abating and turning into irrational, all-consuming anger. "'We'? We and what army?" He made a sweeping motion with his arm, inviting the elf to take a closer look at their surroundings. "Look around you, Master Elf! There are perhaps six or seven dozen more men who are on our side, but other than that, this is it! This is all we have! A hundred men, three half-dead elves and a half-dead ranger! I am sure Girion will have a good long laugh before he orders his men to slaughter all of us – and our families!"

"There is always a way," the elf protested darkly. "I am not prepared to abandon my fr…"

"Do you think that I want to abandon my sister?!" Laenro hissed and took a step closer to Legolas. "Do you believe that I want to watch her be executed in a week or two, that I want to look at her for the last time and see only a broken shell? Do you believe I want to leave her to a fate worse than the death that will claim her in the end? Do you really believe that? I want to do nothing of that sort! I want to save her, I want to do something, anything, but the truth is that there is nothing I can do! Nothing! Not for her, not for you, not for any of us!"

For quite a long time, elf and man stared at each other, Laenro managing to produce quite a fierce glare himself even though he could naturally not compare to Legolas' elven stare of anger and disapproval, and finally Sero decided that it was time to interfere before the two of them began to burn holes into each other with their eyes.

"The much more pressing problem is where to go," he quickly said and tried not to wince when the elf and Laenro stopped glaring at each other and started glaring at him instead. "She knows this house. No matter what we do, we cannot stay here."

"Yes, we can," Laenro shook his head.

"Laenro," the older man protested patiently, "You know I am right. I know she is strong, but no one lasts longer than…"

"You heard me, Sero," Laenro ground out between gritted teeth. "I know that she knows this house, and I also know that, eventually, she will talk, but if we evacuate now, we risk being followed to the new house. I do not trust this Cendan, and besides, there are too many guards on the streets right now, you told me so yourself. There is no way we can get the elves out of here without getting caught, and that is something you know."

Sero looked at the younger man, sadness in his eyes, before he slowly nodded his head in reluctant acquiescence.
"Alright," he said slowly. "Then we stay for now. And then?"

"I don't know!" Laenro snapped, his temper once again threatening to erupt into a storm of fury. "I just don't know! We lost control over this situation a long time ago!" he took a deep breath and obviously worked hard to regain control over his emotions. "Inform the other cells that they must not, under no circumstances, come here or try to make contact with us, do you understand me? We may not be able to leave, but there is absolutely no way we will drag more men than necessary down with us."

Sero nodded.
"Agreed. But the messengers have to leave now; the guards are still in the other part of the city chasing the ox. As soon as people start going to work and opening shops, they'll be back on the streets and might start stopping people at random. We can't risk that."

Laenro nodded as well and motioned at two other men who merely inclined their heads themselves and disappeared out of the door, a sliver of early morning light dancing over the floorboards before the door was closed again.

He turned back to Sero and the elf, who had stopped glaring at the two humans and was starting to look slightly confused.
"Excuse me," Legolas said, looking at the grey haired man half-incredulously and half-anxiously. "Did you say they were chasing an ox?"

Sero gave a short laugh and nodded into the two elven twins' direction.
"A mighty big one, too! One of these two lunatics thought it would be amusing to let loose the wild ox one of the chieftains has given to Girion as a gift. It very nearly gutted all of us!!"

"It was … a calculated … risk," a weak voice behind them announced. "And it worked, didn't … it?"

Aragorn looked up from the hole in the younger twin's upper leg, some of the worry and tension on his face giving way to joy.
"Elrohir!" he breathed, a look of intense relief on his face. "Don't move. Your little bovine friend wasn't too fond of you, was he?"

For a moment, the dark haired elf merely stared at the young ranger's slightly blurry face, apparently trying to remember something. When Aragorn was already starting to get worried, Elrohir totally disregarded the man's earlier words, bolted upright and enveloped his adopted brother in a surprisingly strong hug.

After a heartbeat of surprised paralysis the young man pushed the pain that had flared to life in his own wounds to the side and returned the embrace, clinging to his elven brother in much the same way he had always done when he had woken from a bad dream as a child. He closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Valar that his brothers had escaped, only to feel guilty immediately when he thought of Celylith and Glorfindel.

Elrohir ignored the light-headedness that was once again threatening to pull him down into unconsciousness and tightened his hold on his little brother. Elladan was lying right next to him, unconscious but alive, and he had even spotted a glimpse of Legolas' long fair hair at the other side of the room. He smiled into the man's dark hair. He was definitely the happiest elf this side of the Western Sea.

His smile broadened as he slowly pulled back, still gripping the man's forearms tightly.
"Estel," he said slowly, managing to convey more emotions than Aragorn had thought possible in the single word. "You aren't dead."

The young human arched a dark eyebrow and smiled at the elven twin, putting as much reassurance as he could into his voice.
"No, I am not dead, and neither is Legolas," he told his elven brother in low Elvish and tried to push him back down, doing his best to ignore his body that insistently told him that following that movement and toppling over onto Elrohir's chest was a rather good idea. "We are just fine, and so will you be."

"You are a liar, little brother," Elrohir told the man, still unable to stop smiling. "You are getting better, but you … still don't lie very well. You are not alright."

"Finally someone who is of the same opinion as I am," Legolas' soft voice announced to their left, and a moment later the elven prince carefully lowered himself to his knees next to the two brothers. "Well met, Elrohir. I am returning your brother to you and your kin in the same condition he was in when he arrived in my father's realm three and a half months ago."

"How very thoughtful of you, your Highness," Elrohir whispered softly and reached up to grasp Legolas' hand, quiet joy upon seeing his friend relatively well spreading over his face. "I am sure my father will appreciate your consideration." A thought seemed to strike him and he grasped the prince's hand more tightly, pain flashing over his face as Aragorn once again began to put pressure onto the wound in his thigh. "They … Girion, he knows who you are, my friend. I … I told him your name, and he recognised it. I am sorry, I didn't mean to betray you … we didn't know that he was behind all this, I didn't think…"

"It's alright," Legolas shook his head, finding to his surprise that he meant it. "It's alright, it doesn't matter."

And truly it did not, he thought darkly, trading a look with Aragorn. Girion wouldn't stop searching until he had found them, especially now that the twins had escaped as well. One thing he had to give the man was that he was persistent, and there was no way he would stop the search until his men had recaptured "his" prisoners and those who had helped them escape. That they knew who he was might even be a good thing, he reasoned after a moment. If they knew that he was the Elvenking's son, they would most likely leave Celylith alone.

"I hate to interrupt this," Thesieni's wry voice interrupted the fair haired elf's train of thought, "but we have to get them upstairs. Apart from the fact that it would be hard to explain to anyone why there are two bleeding elves lying in our entrance hall, I need to get him," he nodded at Elladan's slightly shivering form, "somewhere warm. If I am not very much mistaken – and I seriously doubt that I am – they used Glamir's potion on him. We must try to lower his temperature as quickly as possible, but lying on the cold floor won't help matters at all." She turned to Aragorn and the two elves next to him. "And I want to take a look at all of you. Between the three of you, you have got more holes in you than a rabbit hole has exits!"

The humans who had watched the reunion silently and hadn't understood a word that had been spoken automatically began to move to do the female healer's bidding, but just as two men were picking up Elladan and Sero and another human were preparing to help the other twin to his feet, a loud noise caused all of them to jump. A second later it became clear that someone had knocked on the front door, not overly loud, but loud enough to be heard.

Laenro traded a quick look with his grey haired second in command who had let go of Elrohir's arm that he had grasped and shot to his feet, his eyes wide and shocked.
"Dawn," the older man breathed horrified, giving the light that streamed through the shutters a quick look. "It must be that half-Easterling lieutenant of Girion's."

"Or a contingent of guards with the orders to arrest all of us," Laenro interjected wryly.

"It's him," a young man who came crashing down the stairs affirmed. The young human who couldn't be a day older than sixteen years had to be a sentry the men had posted somewhere on the upper level or the roof, Legolas realised. The boy swallowed quickly and added, "He's alone as far as I can tell."

Legolas carefully stood back to his feet, holding his still-healing side wound through his shirt and vest. It still gave him more trouble than a ten-day-old injury should, something that was beginning to truly annoy him. He watched Aragorn struggle to get up for a few seconds and finally helped him to his feet, almost toppling over himself in the process.

Aragorn exchanged a quick, half-annoyed and half-grateful look with his elven friend and finally turned to Laenro, for the first time really looking at the other man Legolas had told him about. What he saw was a man who was simply in over his head, a man who had just received the worst possible news imaginable and did not know what to do next.

"Let him in," he finally told the slightly older man. "Cendan is no fool; he will know that you helped them escape. If he didn't handed us over to the guards before, he won't do it now either."

'I think,' he added inwardly, trying to come up with even half of the conviction he had put into his voice just now. To be perfectly honest he didn't really understand Cendan, and he was anything but happy to bet his brothers' and Legolas' lives on a feeling.

Laenro narrowed his eyes at the ranger who looked as if the only thing that kept him upright was the elf's arm. He hadn't spoken to him before, but judging from what he was seeing, he was far too much like his elven friend; far more than a man rightly should. He appeared to be assuming that he could tell him what to do, for instance.

Unfortunately, he admitted to himself, he was also right. There was no way to predict what that lieutenant would do if they didn't let him in now; this way they could take the risk to kill him and let his body disappear if worst came to worst. They couldn't back out of this now, for that they were already far too involved. With a small, inward prayer that this was the right thing to do he turned and nodded at Sero, who frowned but obeyed and walked over to the door, one hand on the hilt of his knife.

With one quick movement of his hand the grey haired man pulled the door open, revealing the even-faced, dispassionate figure of Cendan who stood in the doorway, his dark blue eyes sweeping over the man in front of him. Making sure that the lieutenant could see his hand on his dagger Sero stepped to the side and wordlessly invited him to step inside with a curt motion of his hand.

Cendan followed the invitation, apparently not in the least impressed by the other's threatening gesture or the sound of the door that was swung shut and locked behind him. The dark haired soldier took the few steps forward into the entrance hall only to come to a sudden stop, a rather unsurprised expression on his face as he took in the sight in front of him.

The young lieutenant raised an amused eyebrow as his eyes travelled over the two elven twins who were in the process of being pulled to their feet, one of them unconscious and the other apparently well on his way to becoming so. Next to them stood the elf and the ranger, both of them looking shaky, bruised and exhausted, and next to them stood Laenro, the owner of this house, who was so pale that he looked almost translucent in the darkened room.
"I am not coming at an inopportune moment, am I?"

Laenro didn't seem inclined to answer, and so it was the elf who spoke, his voice carefully emotionless and so calm that it surprised even Cendan.
"No," Legolas said, his eyes not leaving the man's face for a second. "No, not at all. You are just on time."

He traded a quick look with Laenro who jerked his head to the right, into the direction of the adjacent room.
"Come," he said and steadied Aragorn a little more as he began to steer both of them over to the door to their right. "We have much to talk about, it appears."

Cendan's eyebrow nearly touched his hairline as he followed the two of them, his eyes wandering over the three elves and the ranger – for him a gesture of nearly unparalleled expressiveness.

He couldn't have put it better himself.

Girion wasn't angry, no, he truly was not. He wasn't enraged either, nor was furious, irate or wrathful. He was neither of the above, the dark haired lord thought rather calmly (or so he thought), because he was absolutely, totally and undoubtedly beside himself with a fury so fierce and choking that there wasn't even a word in this world – or the next, for that matter – to describe it.

In truth, he couldn't remember having ever been this amazingly mad before, and right now he wasn't in the mood to try and think about it any more than he had to. He tried to take some slow, even breaths to combat the ever-growing rage inside of him, something that failed to show any effects whatsoever. In a deceptively calm movement he finally turned slowly around, his back dimming the bright morning light that streamed through the open window.

In front of him stood a man in a costly, embroidered robe of pale grey that must have cost the equivalent of several peasant families' yearly incomes. Right now, however, he looked more than ready to swap places with the lowliest peasant he could think of, at least judging by the expression on his face that could only be described as absolutely terrified.

Girion growled inwardly, debating how much damage to his position in the war council he would do if he just gave in to the overpowering urge to kill someone, preferably this man standing in front of him. Quite a lot, he finally concluded, his face darkening even further. The councilman in question was from one of the most influential families of Baredlen, and should he kill him now, his kin would most likely be very displeased.

And this was, he thought angrily, most likely the reason the man had been selected to bring him this latest bit of horrible news. If he had been in a better mood, he might even have been a little bit amused about his councilmen's scheming, but right now he was most definitely not in a good mood – or even in a passable one, for that matter.

"Let me summarise this," he said slowly, in such a menacing, dark tone of voice that the man wearing the grey robes cringed openly. "You are trying to tell me that two of them escaped, even despite all your precautions and despite the assurances you gave me? Are you trying to tell me that all we have is one girl, a girl who managed to fool our guards for the second time for that matter, two escaped prisoners and two dozen dead guards that got on the wrong side of an ox??"

The man didn't answer and merely dropped his eyes to the floor, and that was enough for Girion to finally lose his temper.

"Answer me, man!" he all but shouted, such all-consuming fury on his face that not even the councilman who had served him for many years remained unaffected. "Is that what you are trying to tell me?? If it is, I swear by all the Gods above that someone will have to pay for this, and I cannot think of anyone better than you and your esteemed colleagues who are continuously underestimating the Firstborn! If you know what is good for you, you will explain all this to me, because I'll personally make sure that you regret it if you don't, do you understand me?"

The man in front of him raised his head with an obvious act of will, his eyes darting nervously about his lord's office that was dark and ominous even despite the glorious day that was dawning outside.
"Yes, my lord," he said softly. "That is exactly what I wanted to say."

"Then," Girion hissed, his face the colour of sunburnt bricks now, "you will certainly not mind if I seize your family assets and have you executed for dereliction of duty?"

"If it pleases you, my lord," the man said subserviently. "The problem, however, will not cease to exist, I fear."

"And that is the only reason why I will not do it, no matter how much I would wish to," Girion retorted darkly, obviously still working hard on not losing his temper completely. "But let me make one thing perfectly clear: One more mistake on your or colleagues' part and I will not hesitate to do what I just said and have all of you – and your families – publicly executed. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the councilman nodded, and added, emboldened by the fact that Girion hadn't killed him already, "What are your orders, sir? How do you wish us to proceed?"

Girion's face darkened again, something that sent the councilman into something very close to a panic. That was indeed a good and valid question, Girion thought, which didn't mean that the fact that that question had been asked had pleased him. He wasn't accustomed to feeling unsure and to not knowing what to do, but if he was perfectly honest with himself, he couldn't answer that question.

He turned back around to the window to mask his sudden uncertainty. Indeed, how did he wish them to proceed? With an enormous act of will, he forced himself to relax and view the situation with at least a part of his usual calmness and composure. After a few moments he turned back and looked at his councilman, an indifferent mask firmly attached to his face.

"The girl," he began. "Who is she?"

"We do not know," the other man shook his head. "She worked here in the castle as a chambermaid for at least half a year, but the name she gave the steward when she was employed is false, and so is her family name and the address she provided. Not one of the servants seems to know anything about her; it appears that she kept to herself."

"What a surprise," the dark haired man said acidly. "And here I had expected her to give us her real name and a map pointing directly to her accomplices."

For a moment, the councilman apparently didn't really know whether or not he should acknowledge his lord's words in any way, but then he apparently decided against it.

"Well, my lord, she refuses to tell us anything ever since she was caught at the passage's entrance. Master Glamir asks for guidelines as to which methods of … persuasion he is to employ to change that rather reprehensible attitude."

"Whatever means he deems necessary," Girion answered curtly. "I want to know who she is, who her contacts are and everything else she knows about this annoying, ridiculous resistance movement, and I don't care in the slightest what Glamir has to do to find out. All I want is that there is enough left of her to execute; it appears that the people need a reminder of who is in charge of this city, after all."

"As you command," the man bowed his head, feeling not an ounce of sympathy for the young woman who was sitting in a cell in the dungeon right now. Whoever rebelled against their lord was a fool and deserved whatever he or she got. "Then there is still the problem of the elves, of course…"

"I want them," Girion hissed, a dark gleam in his eyes as he unconsciously took a step forward. "I will hold you and the war council personally responsible if you do not manage to find them. I will allow neither those twins nor the Elvenking's son to escape, is that clear?" He stepped even closer to the councilman who merely stared at him with wide eyes. "I don't care what you have to do, but I want them, understood?!"

"Understood, my lord," the man answered promptly. "I originally meant the other two though, the two the girl didn't manage to free. Master Glamir reported that he had a session with the one from Mirkwood this night, who was, just like his prince before him, most uncooperative. He says that he will need far more time to extract any useful information."

"I see," the dark-clad lord nodded. "You can tell Glamir that he can do what he wants, but he must not damage him permanently. In case you and the dear Captain Teonvan fail me again and the other elves are not found, he is all we have. As for the other elf, I don't care what Glamir does with him. He might know something interesting, and…"

At this point Girion interrupted himself, swivelling round to the door. The other man turned just in time to see a clearly terrified servant poke her head through the gap between the opening door and the doorframe, an expression on her face that clearly bespoke of her firm conviction that she would not see the next day.

"Pardon me, my lord," she said so softly that it was almost impossible to make out the words. "Lord Sangwar is outside and is asking for an audience. He said his business is most urgent." Girion's face darkened like the sky before a storm broke loose, and so she added in an even softer voice, "There is also a delegation from the Easterlings coming to the city which will arrive here in an hour. They also ask to see you as soon as possible."

The councilman ducked his head and sent a quick but very urgent prayer to the Gods to grant him invisibility, at least for the time it would take him to get out of this room. If there was one thing his lord didn't like, it was to be "asked" for an audience when everyone knew that the petition was more of a request, and everyone in his service had learned quickly that it was never wise to be in his company at such a time. This time, however, he could understand his lord completely. To negotiate with the Easterlings was never easy or enjoyable, and if they had heard about the small security problems they'd had lately, they would undoubtedly consider it a sign of weakness. Everyone knew how the Easterlings treated people whom they perceived to be weak and easy targets.

Through Girion's head shot much the same thoughts, coupled with the sudden realisation that he had never wanted to see Sangwar again. He didn't like Lord Súliat's envoys, he didn't like them at all, and the almost mocking expression in Sangwar's eyes and his less than subservient nature had more than once almost been enough to make him lose his temper. He growled inwardly. The last thing he needed now was to lose his temper and kill his mysterious benefactor's delegates, something he wasn't entirely sure he could prevent in his current mood, especially if Sangwar had his young, self-important colleague with him. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to have both delegates' heads adorn the spikes of his drawbridge. Although he would, he thought wryly, settle for young Halyo's head if he absolutely had to, even though he would prefer both.

He shook his head quickly and glowered at the servant girl who tried to bow her head even more in response.
"Show him in."

The girl curtsied and vanished without a word, and Girion turned to his councilman who had done a good job blending into the dark wall panelling these past few seconds.
"You may go. Inform Captain Teonvan that I wish to see him as soon as the Easterlings' delegation has left, and remind Glamir that I want answers from the girl."

"Yes, my lord," the other man bowed and quickly walked over to the door.

He hesitated on the threshold, obviously contemplating whether or not it would be worth it to bother his lord again, but then he finally turned around to Girion, an apprehensive expression on his face.
"Forgive me, sir, but what about the elves? Your orders regarding the Mirkwood elf are clear, but what about the other one, the one from beyond the Misty Mountains?"

Girion hesitated a moment before answering, a calculating look flittering over his face.
"Ah yes, the one with the old eyes…" he muttered thoughtfully. "Don't kill him," he finally decided. "Tell Glamir he can vent his anger on him if he wants to, but he must not kill him. I think he could be useful yet. I don't care in what condition he will be in, but I want him to be kept alive for the next few days."

The other man bowed his head, mumbled an affirmative and turned around, only to very nearly collide with Lord Súliat's delegate who was just being led into the room by the servant girl. The older man merely arched an amused eyebrow at the other's stammered apology and watched how he and the servant quickly left the room and closed the door behind them. A moment later he turned around to Girion and gave him a quick bow that was respectful enough and yet appeared somewhat condescending.

"My lord," Sangwar said quietly. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"It is something you may accredit to the high esteem in which I hold the treaty between your lord and myself," Girion informed the older man coldly. "I am, however, rather busy at the moment, and would therefore greatly appreciate it if you would not waste my time with trivialities or time-consuming pleasantries."

"As you wish, my lord," Sangwar nodded his head. "I am merely concerned and came here in the hopes that you could put my mind at ease."

"Concerned?" the dark haired man repeated as if greatly surprised and sat down behind his desk, motioning the delegate to do the same. "What about?"

"About things that have been happening in your city recently, my lord," the older man retorted, apparently choosing his words with great care. "I understand there have been some problems with some elves, yes?"

That statement was about as close as a diplomat ever came to saying "I told you so", which was something that was fortunately lost on Girion. The dark-clad man merely stared at Sangwar with expressionless eyes, nothing but calm disinterest on his face.

"To say that there were problems would overstate the matter," he said dismissively. "There have been some incidents involving some elves, yes, but there is nothing I or my men could not handle."

"Undoubtedly, Lord Girion," the older man nodded politely, the unidentifiable sparkle once again in his eyes. It was a sparkle that seemed to say that there was much the other man did not know, as if he were a child that did not understand a game adults played and yet thought he did. "I never meant to insinuate that there were."

"Good," Girion informed him dispassionately. "Because if you were insinuating any such thing, I would be most displeased and would most likely see it fit to terminate the treaty with your lord in the manner we already discussed a few days ago."

"Then it is most fortunate we understand each other, my lord," Sangwar said smoothly, showing no indication that he was impressed in any way by the other's barely veiled threat. "Yet from what I hear, the … incidents were rather inconvenient indeed. Four prisoners have escaped now, have they not?"

For a moment, Girion literally saw red. The way in which this man reminded him of his mistakes was almost too much to bear, and if he didn't need his lord's money so much, especially considering the way the Easterlings were beginning to get uneasy, he would have killed him, right here, right now.

"You are remarkably well informed, my Lord Sangwar," he ground out between gritted teeth, fighting the urge to jump to his feet in sudden fury. "I have been informed about the third and fourth escape only less than an hour ago myself; how did you find out about it so quickly?"

"You can hear many things in a place as big as this one, my lord," Sangwar said modestly.

"Indeed?" Girion raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Is that what your young companion is doing, sneaking through the corridors of my castle and listening at closed doors? Is that why he is not here now?"

"Neither Lord Halyo nor I would ever do something that so blatantly jeopardised our lord's treaty with you," the envoy shook his head seriously. "Lord Halyo is at the moment preparing a report to our Lord Súliat. What should I have him write, my lord? That everything is going according to plan, or that there will be some more … incidents?"

Girion did jump to his feet this time, a dark, furious gleam in his eyes. How dare this man speak to him like this, how dare he demand answers from him in such a manner!

"You forget your place, delegate," he hissed. "Your lord may tolerate it if you speak to him in such a manner, but I most certainly will not! This is no business of yours, and if you and your companion cannot stop poking your noses into things that do not concern you, I will see to it that they are removed along with the rest of your heads!"

"I respectfully disagree, my lord," Sangwar retorted, unmoved by the younger man's outburst. He merely leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the other's. "This does concern me, for whatever concerns my lord, concerns me. Lord Súliat is not a patient man, and, as you well know, is not someone who tolerates failure and wilful neglect of his affairs. In this case, his affairs are being represented by Lord Halyo and myself, and in the capacity of my lord's representative I ask you again: What shall I tell him?" He rose to his feet, his eyes boring into Girion's dark ones. "That everything is well and as it should be – or that you cannot control your own city?"

For a moment, the larger part of Girion wanted to throw caution, reason and this confounded treaty out of the window and to do what all his instincts wanted him to: To draw his knife and slit this insolent, infuriating man's throat from one ear to the other. After what felt like an eternity he slowly and very, very deliberately unclenched his fists and took a step backwards, working very hard on regaining control over his temper.

"What you tell your lord in your reports is not even of the remotest interest to me," he said slowly, the fiery expression in his eyes belying his words. "I can assure you, however, that I am in full control of the situation – and this city. The elves will be found, and even if they are not, it is of no importance. I still have two others, and besides, their co-operation has always been like an added bonus, not a vital part of my plans. Nothing will jeopardise this operation, and we will proceed as planned. There is nothing you – or your lord – would have to worry about, I give you my word."

"I am most relieved to hear that, my lord," Sangwar nodded his head, his body relaxing considerably. His eyes, however, remained hard and alert, and he did neither look convinced nor particularly relieved. "What about your … allies, my lord? I know you convinced them to put aside their differences to serve you, but…"

"They will do as they're told, as long as I promise them money, fame and glory – and the deaths of those they have hated since their ancestors turned on the Elves in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, of course," Girion said dismissively. "I will inform them, just like yourself, that I am in charge here – and that everything is going according to plan."

"That is all I wanted to hear," the older man said, giving him a small bow. "They are a dishonest, untrustworthy people."

Girion merely stared at him in a way that would have impressed most people, but failed to show any effects whatsoever on Sangwar. His own lord, the older man mused, was far more adept at glaring at people or instilling fear in them with a single look. He was also far more dangerous than this uncontrolled, irrational man who thought that mindless terror could secure someone's rule over a city. He and his liege knew better, of course. You needed to take other things than the satisfaction of your immediate need for revenge and the urge to kill into consideration, and that was something this young, rash upstart would probably never understand.

The envoy inclined his head in what could be construed as a respectful way, having decided that he had found out what he had wanted to know: That the situation wasn't nearly as completely under control as everybody in the castle was led to believe. These elves were beginning to pose a rather serious security risk that would undoubtedly also been viewed as such by the Easterlings. And where the Easterlings perceived a weakness, they struck. Sangwar frowned inwardly. He was beginning to consider the possibility that they would fail in their endeavour, and that he and Halyo would need to leave this city quickly rather sooner than later.

"My lord," he said when he had straightened up again, "I will leave you to your councils then. I do not want to intrude on you any longer than absolutely necessary."

Girion nodded curtly which Sangwar took as a dismissal, but when the older man had already reached the dark wooden door, the dark haired lord's voice halted him in his tracks.
"One last thing, my Lord Sangwar."

The delegate turned around, and Girion gave him a cold, menacing smile that would have impressed even the Dark Lord himself.
"If you ever," he said slowly, carefully accentuating every single word, "ever speak to me in such a manner again, I will have your head and that of your companion decorate the highest tower of my castle, treaty or no treaty. Have I made myself clear?"

"As the finest Gondorian crystal, my lord," Sangwar retorted with a matching smile that did not betray any of his true emotions, and with another small bow he opened the door and soundlessly disappeared out of the room.

For long moments, Girion stared at the closed door, anger and hatred warring inside his chest. A few moments later he walked over to the door and pulled it open in one quick movement, nearly giving the guards standing left and right of it a heart attack.
"Get me the council," he ordered curtly. "All of them, and all the captains you can find. Those who aren't here in fifteen minutes will regret it dearly."

One of the two soldiers stammered a shocked affirmative, turned around and rushed down the corridor while the other remained where he was, apparently hoping to melt into the wall. His lord didn't pay him any attention however and merely closed the door again with a loud bang, totally oblivious to the soldier's fearful thoughts.

He slowly walked over to the window, watching the soldiers and servants that hastened to and fro below him. The army's departure was drawing ever closer, and everything would have to be ready in four days, as everybody knew. To incur their lord's wrath in a time like this was certainly not a good idea.

There was one important thing he had realised during this rather unpleasant conversation, Girion thought darkly as he watched the courtyard below. His "allies" were getting restless, impatient and concerned, and if Lord Súliat's envoy was acting like this, he could very well imagine what the Easterlings' delegation would have to say when they arrived here in less than an hour.

Girion growled darkly. He wouldn't let the Elvenking's brat ruin everything now, especially since it was no longer just about taking back what should have been his and his family's. He was long past the point where he could still have turned back, and he would have to follow the road he had chosen, or it would mean his certain death. He was aware that he was running out of time, both to find the prince and the other elves and to demonstrate to everyone in- and outside this city who was in control here.

A demonstration, he nodded to himself, yes, that was what would be needed. The people needed a reminder of who was lord of this place and what the price of rebellion was, it appeared, and he was just in the right mood to grant them their wish.

He was tired of chasing these elusive elves. He would make them come to him, and they would be just in time to watch their friends die.

Celylith opened and closed his eyes for the seventh time in a row, frowning heavily while he did so. He was beginning to realise that his initial suspicion was indeed correct: It truly made not even the slightest difference whether his eyes were open or not.

Accepting this fact with a tired sigh, the silver haired elf slowly and carefully began to push himself into a sitting position, moving with the speed of a sluggish snail more for Lord Glorfindel's than for his own sake. He smiled inwardly. Up until now, he had always blamed Estel's and the twins' over-protective nature on their father, but now he was beginning to suspect that the golden haired elf lord had something to do with it as well.

The Silvan elf inched backwards until his bruised back hit the wall and leaned his head against the cool stones, carefully cradling his injured right hand to his chest. Even though – or maybe because – Lord Glorfindel had bound it while he had been sleeping, it throbbed almost unbearably in a steady rhythm with his own heartbeat, confirming what both of them had suspected from the beginning, namely that at least some of the bones had not been merely dislocated, but rather broken.

Dark, choking fear began to gather around his heart, and Celylith ruthlessly pushed it back down. There was too little light here to see properly, even for an elf, and so he could only hope that his companion had managed to straighten the fingers correctly in the increasingly dim light their own bodies produced. He wouldn't think about the alternative, he told himself firmly, he – would – not. He could very well remember the one captain he had known many hundred years ago, the one who had nearly lost an arm to an attacking warg. He had never regained full control over it again, no matter what the healers did, and had in the end left for the Undying Lands in bitterness and grief. And then there was Legolas' arm of course which had never healed properly, and who knew, maybe it never would now. For all he knew his friend was dead or recaptured by now, for all he knew he could already be gone and…

"Brooding never helped anyone achieve anything," a quiet voice to his left remarked softly. "Or is this your way of telling me that you want to hear more about the dashingly handsome, golden haired warrior, young one?"

Celylith's dark thoughts were chased away as if they had never existed and he smiled broadly, even forgetting about the pain in his hand and the rest of his body. He was very sure the elf lord would know a lot more stories about the dashingly handsome warrior, and even though he had slept only a few hours, he was more than willing to hear more so soon after having heard the first, very amusing tale.
"Is there more you can tell me, my lord?"

"Oh, indeed," Glorfindel grinned, glad to see that he had brought the younger elf out of the dark, pained silence that had surrounded him ever since he had awoken. "The warrior in question performed many great deeds and slew many foul beasts. There are a lot of exciting tales to be told."

"I see," Celylith smiled slightly. "Then, my lord, do tell me if there are any more involving the Lord Er…, I mean, the evil councilman! Surely he has sought vengeance on the warrior who had humiliated him thus?"

"He may have tried," Glorfindel waved his hand dismissively, "But he was by no means a match for the dashingly handsome warrior. He was also one to bear a grudge for an exceedingly long time. I don't think he has ever forgiven the warrior for writing that … word on his forehead, or for the … other thing he did, which was perfectly legitimate and justifiable, by the way."

"How petty of him," the younger elf retorted, the sparkle in his eyes hidden by the darkness that filled the cell. It hadn't taken him long to realise that Lord Glorfindel's evil councilman was Lord Erestor, and the mere idea of the usually so imposing, regal Noldorin elf lord with that word on his forehead was still enough to send him into waves of suppressed giggling.

"Yes, isn't it?" Glorfindel agreed readily. "I thought so, too."

"What can you expect from a fiend like him, anyway?"

"Exactly!" the golden haired elf lord exclaimed, feeling intensely pleased that Celylith seemed to feel well enough to joke again. He could sense that he was still in quite a lot of pain, but that he was willing to try and ignore it for now was a good sign – at least he thought so. He was no healer, after all, and for all he knew these could also be the signs of an approaching mental breakdown.

Glorfindel decided to be optimistic and that it was a good sign and continued, an expression of mock indignation on his face.
"One really should expect more rationality from a councilman of such great importance and high status, shouldn't one? Really, it was only one little word, which the warrior was more than entitled to writing on his forehead, by all means, and still he acted as if…"

The blond elf interrupted himself at the same moment Celylith sat up a little straighter, both of them hearing the footsteps that were beginning to draw closer to their cell. Glorfindel ignored the pain in his head that had still not truly abated and straightened his back, his eyes fixed on the dark cell door he knew to be only a few feet in front of them. Next to him, Celylith did his best to suppress the fear that once again began to course through him. There was no way he would give these people even more pleasure by showing them that he was afraid of them – or rather afraid of what they could do.

"It will be alright," the golden haired elf lord's voice said soothingly next to him. "It will be alright, pen-neth."

Celylith turned to the left, a sarcastic smile on his lips that was barely visible even to elven eyes.
"Forgive me for contradicting you, my lord, but I disagree. I don't see a way it could."

Yes, the younger elf just might be on to something, Glorfindel admitted to himself. Unless Girion had had a profound change of heart, had decided that he had incarcerated them wrongfully and had, full of remorse, ordered their release, there was truly no way it could ever be alright. And as attractive as that possibility was, it was also highly unlikely. Even if Girion should somehow decide that he didn't need them anymore, he would rather have them killed than allow them to go, that was something both of them knew.

The blond elf's thoughts were quickly brought back to the present when the footsteps came to a halt in front of their cell. A moment later a key was thrust into the lock and turned, and the door opened with a loud, shrill shriek that grated on Glorfindel's sensitive ears. This time he was better prepared for the light that flooded the small space of their cell, and so it took his eyes only moments to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Before he even looked at the shadowy figures in the doorway, he shot a quick look at the elf sitting next to him. In the light that filled the small space the cuts on his cheeks were in even starker contrast to the pale skin that surrounded them, and the young one's eyes were large and dark and full of suppressed fear and pain. Glorfindel forced himself not to speak the words of comfort that were on the tip of his tongue and turned back to the cell's open door, his eyes fixing on a small, thin man that stood there, surrounded by a throng of armed guards.

The elf lord frowned inwardly as he looked at the elderly human, who seemed to be strangely out of place here. He was at least half a head shorter than most of the other men, and with his balding grey hair and scholarly appearance he seemed to fit into these dungeons about as well as a book on proper conduct would have fitted into an orc's hand.

And still a small, cold shiver ran over Glorfindel's back when he looked at the human, a shiver he couldn't really explain. There was something … evil about the man, something malicious that seemed to surround him like a dark cloud. He didn't need to feel Celylith's body stiffen next to him to know who this was, no matter how different he had pictured him in his mind.

"Master Glamir," he said mockingly in a tone of voice that suggested surprise that the man had dared to come here. "What an unexpected pleasure. Please, do come in."

Glamir didn't move a single muscle or show any signs whatsoever that he was intending to comply with the elf's request, not that that surprised Glorfindel, of course. There was no way more than a tenth of the guards standing out there would fit in here, and Glamir would have to be very stupid indeed to come in here alone. No, the blond elf thought darkly as he looked at the calculating brown eyes of the man in front of him. Glamir may be many things, but he was not stupid.

Glamir merely looked at the two elves in front of him, both of them sitting on the narrow cot with their backs to the wall. He had no experience with dealing with their race, but he thought the blond one was older – it was just something in his eyes and the way he carried himself. Both of their faces were dispassionate and showed precious few emotions apart from loathing and contempt, but the blond one seemed to be even less concerned about what was happening to him than his companion.

The man pursed his lips slightly as he weighed his options. He did have quite a lot to do today with three prisoners to interrogate – not that he was complaining, of course. He had been provided with far too few projects of late, and the ones that had been promising to become the most interesting ones like the fair haired elf, his ranger friend or the twin elves had been snatched out of his grasp quicker than he had even been able to start a real interrogation.

He was just coming from the girl's cell, who had proven to be quite headstrong as well. All she had shown them was a deep hatred even he had trouble explaining, and he had left her to the – questionable, admittedly – mercies of the guards. He would come back in a few hours and see if her attitude had changed at all, something he doubted, by the way. Still, he had some free time now, so what should he do? He had very clear orders concerning both elves, but which one should he pick for now?

Glamir looked from the blond elf to his silver haired companion, trying to make up his mind. The way the younger one was trying to protect his right hand and shield it from view was indeed most gratifying to him, as were the perfectly placed cuts on his face and torso. He could very well imagine continuing his work with him, and to have a subject on which he could use all his techniques would be very satisfying as well...

He would have to be careful with him though, he thought darkly; the orders were unambiguous indeed. Glamir's gaze returned to the other elf, and in the moment his cold eyes locked with his bright blue, angry and arrogant eyes, he realised that that was not what he wanted right now. No, the man thought, he was angry, and he wanted to see someone suffer for it. This overbearing, overly proud sparkle had been visible in the dark haired elf's eyes as well, the one who had insulted him and had escaped with his brother. The sting of the elf's words once again flared to life, and hot anger began to boil inside the man. Well, he might not be able to make that one pay for his insolent words, but that didn't mean he couldn't vent his anger about this whole situation!

He turned to the guard to his right and nodded at the blond elf who was watching them with the removed interest he would undoubtedly have shown small, slimy insects.
"Him."

Neither the guards nor the golden haired elf appeared overly surprised by the curt order, and in a matter of seconds three men had entered the cell, pulled the elf to his feet and began to drag him out of the room. The one person who was exceedingly surprised, however, was Celylith, his mind for a few moments frozen in surprise. These people wanted to know what he knew, didn't they, so what good would Lord Glorfindel do them – unless Glamir merely wanted to…

The thought trailed off into nothing, and the younger elf tried to push himself to his feet without even thinking. It wasn't that he wasn't afraid – by the Valar, that he was – but no matter how much Lord Glorfindel saw him as his charge, he was not. He was no child, the Rivendell elf was his king's guest, and he would be damned if he allowed one of his king's guests to get hurt without even trying to prevent it.

He had just managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly back and forth as he realised that someone must have replaced the air with a far denser and heavier substance, and was still thinking about what in the name of the One he could possibly do, when one of the guards stepped forward and smashed his fist into his face with an infuriatingly lazy move. Far sooner than the Silvan elf would have guessed he was back on the cot that was beginning to creak dangerously as his weight was thrown backwards onto it, and for a moment he could concentrate on nothing but the pain that had flared back to life in the reopened cuts on his cheeks. A second later he pushed it back and raised his head again, ready to at least try and show these people that no one attacked a wood-elf unpunished, when the older elf's calm, commanding voice cut through the inexplicably heavy air, halting him in his tracks.

"Á lemya entassë, nessaquen. Ilqua nauvas máravë."

Celylith looked up, straight into Lord Glorfindel's serious eyes that looked remarkably unconcerned for a person's who was just being dragged out of a prison cell. The older elf gave him a small smile that was apparently meant to be reassuring, and Celylith allowed his body to relax minutely. He was right; it would help no one if he got himself killed now.

Glamir shook his head disapprovingly at the sound of the foreign language he couldn't understand and motioned at one of the guards next to the door. Before the man could close the door, Celylith smiled sadly and shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the other elf.
"Lá, herunya, umin sana sië. Úvas."

The heavy wooden door swung shut, and Glorfindel felt himself being gripped more tightly and pushed forward, down the dark corridor. Within moments the whole group of soldiers was following Glamir who was already a few feet ahead, and Glorfindel began to realise how wrong he had been.

Celylith was most definitely on to something.





TBC...

mellon nín (S.) - my friend
pen-neth (S.) - young one
Á lemya entassë, nessaquen (Q.) - Stay there, young one.
Ilqua nauvas máravë (Q.) - Everything will be well.
Lá, herunya, umin sana sië. Úvas (Q.) - No, my lord, I do not think so. It won't.




Yes, you guessed it, the next chapter will be the one with the elf lord torture. *large part of readers cheer* You really ARE evil, you know that? Well, apart from that we also have a rather long discussion between Cendan, Laenro, Legolas, Aragorn and about a thousand other people, we see what Cendan does when he loses his temper and much more. It should be here in a week, and I won't tell you that I love reviews because I always do that. *g*

---

Additional A/N:

Websterans - LOL, yes, the infamous word returns. Now Celylith knows what it is as well - which doesn't mean I'm going to tell you, sorry. And yes, I know I'm evil and sadistic. *g* Thanks for the review!
Red Tigress - Yes, I guess you're right. Poor Aragorn, he is awake, but the rest of his family isn't. *shrugs* Ah well, you can't have everything, I guess... *g* I'm glad I updated too (Boy, I HATE oral exams), and thanks a lot for reviewing despite having so little time!
LOTRFaith - _Of course_ I like Girion. I mean, come on, don't YOU love the villains in books and movies? I like them a lot better than the heroes most of the time, since they are so amazingly noble-stupid. Villains are a lot more fun. I like all my evil guys, except Teonvan. I don't really know why (no, I know _exactly_ why *g*), but I really, really dislike him. And that sounds certainly ... interesting. Yes, that's the term, even though "disgusting" might fit, too. You are indeed bloodthirsty...
Nikara - Yes, he is, isn't he? But I guess that, at least this time, he's righ in a way. I mean, come on, he IS the oldest and SHOULD have known better. Which doesn't really make it his fault, mind you, but... *g* And you're right, it's a good thing the stubborn ranger woke up. Thesieni really is too old for all this... *g*
Alisha B - I am very sure I'll like it! Post it Post it Post it Post it Post it... *trails off* Whenever you can, I mean. I understand completely if you have other things to do... *g* Yes, I try to come up with new injuries, but it's getting harder and harder. That's mostly C&S' fault, of course... *g* You like Glorfindel? Well, join the We-love-Glorfindel-and-like-to-hurt-him-too-Club! I love him myself, he's just perfect! *huggles resisting elven warrior* I am also happy to hear that you like Celylith, of course. He's just a stupid wood-elf, really, but it's always nice to hear people like him. *g* And yes, I most definitely like crazy, but your review wasn't too bad, believe me. It's not in that weird American slang I just don't understand. I really think I need a new dictionary... *g* Thanks for reviewing, I really missed you! *huggles her with her other arm, still not letting go of Glorfindel*
Aratfeniel - I'm sure Celylith would try to rescue the ox if he were up to it. *g* No, that doesn't mean he won't be; I have merely not yet decided. So, he might rescue the ox or he might now. And I think the whole I-forgot-my-dislocated-fingers was supposed to be a joke. Weird Silvan sense of humour, I know. *g*
Alasse Tiwele - Okay, I'll admit that twelve days _are_ rather close to two weeks. *hangs head in shame* You're right. I'm glad you're happy to wait two other stories, so that means I can start that meeting story around Christmas this year. *g* At the earliest. And I'm sorry, but I don't like writing children. I'm not too fond of them, and I really couldn't write two stories about their respective childhoods. It would have to be two, I think, considering the age difference... *shudders* No, that wouldn't be too good. I wouldn't even manage one story, sorry. *g*
Tgas - As I said in the A/N, there won't be any, sorry. A few battle wounds or things like that, but no more torture. Sorry. *g*
Someone Reading - Yes, I agree. They're all insane. Poor Glorfindel, someone should have warned him before he agreed to return to Arda... *g* LOL, well, then we should hope that the story doesn't get any better, shouldn't we? I would hate to lose a reviewer because of my writing style... *g* *blinks* Which Maia do you want to call in? I could deal with Saruman, or even Sauron (they like Balrogs), but I don't think Stan and Gandalf would get along very well. You know, all that stuff in Moria and so on... *g*
Alariel - Well, to be perfectly honest the chapter was written before my exams. I just didn't have the time to edit it and all that, but it was already written. Hmm, yes, Ethoani, let's just say that her fate's up to Jack. I wrote the character for her, and she told me what I had to do with her a long time ago. It's not my fault. *g* Yes, I think it would be nice if Glorfindel killed Girion too, but the thing is that I have an awful lot of good guys and only a few villains. I am right now really thinking about who's going to kill whom - it's not easy... *g* Oh, yes, the fire-breathing dragon. I almost forgot about him....
Karone Evertree - As I said in the A/N, the elf was Glorfindel, not Legolas. Personally I wouldn't call Legolas' hair golden anyway, but that's my opinion I guess. I am not obsessed with him anyway... *g* And you're right of course, they're all mad and stupid. But we already knew that, didn't we... *g*
Firnsarnien - No, no, no, it was longer than ten days. Twelve. No more. *g* That's very important, I don't know why, but it is. I am glad you like my "owies" so much, even though I have the feeling that a few certain elves and ranger wouldn't agree. *shrug* What do they know? And yes, you're right, I wouldn't want to be in Glorfindel's or Celylith's shoes either. Poor them. *evil cackle* Oh, don't worry, Ethoani's not dead, not yet anyway. Oops, did I just say that aloud? Sorry... *sheepish grin* Ignore that comment, will you? And the main reason why I won't write 50 chapters is that I would go NUTS!! *g* Evil annoying characters.
Bailey - Hmm, yes, I guess you're right. Aragorn has to be more or less alright if he's already well enough to insult the twins... *g* And I know exactly what you mean, any injury to a finger hurts! I play volleyball, so I've more or less done everything you can to them, including breaks, dislocations and sprains. *g* Yes, they should hurry up and get to the safe house, the only question is though: How safe is the safe house? *evil cackle* Mahahaha, I love making ominous comments...
Koriaena - LOL, yes, it's Thranduil's eyebrow of doom. It's not quite as bad as Elrond's, but close enough I guess... *g* And I have to agree with you and the dear Captain Jack Sparrow: They crossed taht particular line ages ago. *g* Thanks for the review!
Celebdil-galad + Tinlaure - Oh, you have a possessed horse too? Like Rashwe? Well, that's interesting ... I think I would like to meet it... *g* Yes, believe me, there are quite a lot of people (not even counting the characters) who would love to get their hands on Teonvan or his charming lord. I hope your bio paper was okay - I'm sure it was. Give my regards to your horse, and thanks for the review!
Crippled Raven - Yup, I did survive, but it was a near thing. I very nearly died that day... *g* And you won't fail your GCSEs, believe me. Repeat after me: I will be just fine. I will be just fine. I will be just fine. Take a deep breath. Better? *g* No, I hadn't thought so. *g* LOL, so you want a sickening display of noble angst? Well, there's something like that - but not quite as bad, I hope. The twins are unconscious for most of the time, so... *g* Don't allow your worl to bury you completely, and repeat once again: I will be just fine. That's it. *g*
Bookworm, .303 - Okay, keep ignoring it. *g* If it's easier for you this way... Well, yes, the Glorfindel torture ... it's not my fault? I promised a lot of people a long time ago, and I can't break a promise, can I? Well, of course I can, but I'm evil and don't want to. *g* But I agree. The twins and Celylith are worse than everything Glamir could ever come up with. Poor Glorfindel. *g*
Shauna - Well, yes, right now she's alright, more or less anyway. That doesn't mean that it will stay that way, of course... *evil grin* And I agree, Legolas and Estel won't be very happy about seeing the twins in that state, even though I have to say that they're not really royalty. They are most definitely Noldorin nobility, but Elrond never claimed the kingship after Gil-galad's death, even though he would have been entitled to it since he was Gil-galad's ... let me think, Turgon and Fingon were brothers, Idril was Turgon's daughter and Eärendil's mother ... Elrond was the son of Gil-galad's second cousin, I think. The last king in Elrond's family (apart from Elros who doesn't really count) was his great-grandfather Turgon and his great-great-grandfather Thingol Greycloak, and I think that, by elven standards and especially considering that there was quite a bit of human blood involved, he doesn't count as royalty anymore. *g* Sorry about that, sometimes I can't stop myself. *g* I'm sorry to hear about your trouble with the internet, but I'm sure your parents will forget about it soon. My mother always did. *g*
Narina Nightfall - I won't tell you again not to kidnap Elrohir. You're not listening anyway, it appears… *g* LOL, the TIPCWAOW(OI)LOTR? It definitely sounds interesting – and I know quite a few people who ought to join. *g* My birthday is on the 24th of June, not that it is something you really wanted to know. But I would love to get an ox. It's adorable, isn't it? *huggles ox* And Estel didn't sleep that long, really. It just appeared to be very long since so much happened, but in reality he has only been asleep for little more than a day. Even he might manage that without food. *g* Yes, it's Thranduil's eyebrow of doom, even though it's not quite as bad as Elrond's. Well, I guess it's bad enough. *g* And I really have to protest, the last chapter wasn't 12 days late. It was five days late, since I always need a week to post. *g* I hope your play was alright! No, I'm sure it was, and I hope you had lots of fun!Tychen - Yeah, well, everybody is entitled to a bit of angst once in a while, right? Even Glorfindel needs that from time to time – really, he does! *g* He just doesn't realise it yet. And you're absolutely right of course, Aragorn won't be happy to see the twins in the state they're in at the moment. Thank you very much for your very nice and flattering review, as always! *huggles*
Firniswin - Hmm, is that an "Aragorn is awake, good"-comment or an "Aragorn is awake, dammit"-comment? *g* But no, I'm sure you're happy to see everybody's favourite ranger again, so I guess you're happy to see the ox. It's also nice to hear that you liked the ox! I like it too, it's adorable!! *g*
Elvendancer - *g* I guess it' a good thing he's awake, but I think he'll be rather unhappy about his chance to join the Unhappy List. Poor Estel. *evil grin* Thanks a lot for reviewing!
CrazyLOTRfan - Well, I can answer that for you, I guess. Elrohir is a very, very, VERY insane elf. Three fries short of a Happy Meal. Off his trolley. And so on… *g* Hmm, let me think, is Legolas perky? Well, I guess it's fair to say that he's very relieved and happy to be able to joke with Aragorn again, yes, but I wouldn't say he's perky. Well, at least he's not supposed to be perky. Are you? Legolas: Most definitely not. Elven warriors aren't … perky. There you see. Relieved and behaving a little childish, but not perky. *g* I wish you good luck with your driver's test, I'm sure you'll be alright. The other cars, however… *g*
AngelMouse5 - I'll just assume that you're Mouse from Australia. I'm quite sure you are, but just in case you aren't: Listen, I know this one joke about an Aussie, the American and… *trails off* Well, I'll tell you sometime later. *g* I hope you didn't embarrass yourself at work, however, and my exams went very well, thanks a lot. Thanks a lot for the review, I did miss you! If you _are_ Mouse, that is… *g*
LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel - I agree, they all don't know how to keep your moth shut, but I guess it's somehow connected to being thousands of years older than your captors and knowing perfectly well how much more beautiful and wise and skilled you are. *shrugs* Just an idea. And don't worry, Elrond won't have to send him a letter, he'll just lecture him in person once they get back to Rivendell. IF they get back to Rivendell… *evil grin* Hmm, let me see, who asked me for Glorfindel torture… Well, there's Sabercrazy. Then Trin, Cathy, Alisha, Jera and about a thousand others. Sorry, you're outnumbered. *g* And of course you can borrow Rashwe, as long as you don't kill him (yes, I have become quite fond of him) and put him in the disclaimer. It's nice to hear you like him so much.
Iccle Fairy - *g* I know exactly what you mean. It's lots of fun, actually! *g* And don't worry, in the end they'll all be fine – or will they… *evil cackle* Sorry, I enjoy being evil far too much. Just ignore me. *g*
Sadie Elfgirl - You are right of course, Elrond won't really strangle Glorfindel. He's intelligent to see that there was nothing Glorfindel could really have done to prevent any of what has happened, but … well, I love Glorfindel angst? The possibility of being able to put this into the next story as well was to great for me to resist… LOL, I think I have to agree, even though I would love to see what Legolas would say if Aragorn called him dwarf right after waking up … perhaps I'll use it in another story. *grimaces* Thanks for the plot bunny! The ox can't kill Teonvan, I'm sorry, but that's only because I have too few villains as it is. I need him, sorry. *g*
Yuuki Ryuu - Oh, I know that is turning into my longest story yet. I just can't make them shut up! It's horrible, really, I always feel so helpless… *sighs* Bloody elves and ranger. No, English is not my first language; it's my third, I think. And don't worry, German is a very hard language, or so I've heard. I can't really judge that, of course, but it's supposed to be a lot harder than English, which is quite easy to learn, really. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!
Strider's Girl - LOL, I think that "Things are not going well for them" just might be a tiny little understatement… *g* Don't worry about your GCSE's, I'm sure you'll do just fine. I agree though: An exam about the History of Middle-earth or the origins of the Peredhil-family would be far easier… *g*
Nietta - Of course I remember you! It's great to see you again! *huggles* And know perfectly well what you mean, school or college can be horrible! I'm just glad to 'see' you again. Yes, I think Elrohir was in quite a lot of pain, poor little elfsie. *huggles elven twin* Don't worry, you'll feel better in no time… LOL, no, I may be insane, but I'm fair. Everybody has to get tortured, it would be mean to ignore poor Glorfindel. He would probably not agree, but he's no fun at all. *g* I LOVE the idea to give all the elves a chance to kill Teonvan. Would be fun, too. Rather mean, but funny. *g* Yes, they're called spiky toys, but no, they are not meant for target practice. You aren't allowed to throw them at people, sorry. *g* Okay, be that as it may, it's very nice to see you again! Thanks for the review!
Salara - Erst einmal: Ein Begruessungsknuddeln! *knuddelt Salara* Okay, jetzt ist das erledigt, weiter im Text. Frage: Warum brauchst du einen airbaggepufferten Laptop? Hast du deinen etwa runtergeschmissen? *fieses Grinsen* Gegen eine Sammelreview habe ich natuerlich nichts, ist doch klar. Danke vielmals, ich hab' euch echt vermisst! Ich hatte schon angefangen mir Sorgen zu machen, aber die Ankunft eures neusten wunderbaren Kapitels (das ich immer noch reviewen muss *huestel*) hat mich da ja schon beruhigt. *wischt sich Schweiss von der Stirn* Na dann. Es freut mich uebrigens, dass dir Glorfindel so gefaellt. Ich mag ihn ja auch, auch wenn er manchmal etwas unterbelichtet ist. *g* LOL, Teonvan soll an "Koerperpiercings" sterben? Na, das waere doch definitiv mal was neues... Ich werde sehen, was sich machen laesst... *g* ROTFL, Glamir als Shooting Star im "Universum der Psychopathen und Boesewichter"? Junge, ja, so koennte man das fast sagen, nehme ich an... *g* Ich muss allerdings sagen, dass ich zwar noch nicht weiss, was ich mit Cendan letztendlich mache, aber der neue Fuehrer von Baredlen wird er sicher nicht. Wird alles noch klarer im naechsten Kapitel, aber lass' mich einfach sagen, dass die guten Buerger der Stadt "Halbblueter" nicht sonderlich moegen. Ich wollte sie auch nicht zu einseitig-gut darstellen, nech? Und danke fuer den Lexikonartikel. Man kann ihn sicher so interpretieren, v.a. da ja z.B. Éomer, genau genommen, auch nicht ein Koenigssohn war, sondern nur ein Koenigsneffe. Und der hatte doch auch dieses Maeras-Pferd dessen Name mir in meiner unendlichen Verstreutheit entfallen ist, also was fuer Éomer gilt, gilt erst recht fuer Glorfindel. Jawoll. *g* Noch einmal vielen lieben Dank fuer die lange Review!
Jazmin3 Firewing - Well, _I_ didn't do anything to his ego! It was like that when I got my hands on him, honestly! *g* And believe me, I didn't want to make it appear that Glorfindel's ego is ... well, that big; he wasn't entirely serious, after all. It was - more or less, or so I hope - to amuse Celylith and put him at ease. I think. *g* You never know with these reborn living legends, do you?
Marbienl - You? Acting a little crazy? Nooooo.... Please note the sarcastic undertone. *g* You do that as well? Count seconds before you get up, I mean? I do that as well, usually I count to 18 over and over again. Don't ask me why, I guess it's because I like 18 and always want to get up then, but am too lazy in the end after all. *sighs* I'm a horrible person, I know. And did that really happen, with the man and his neighbours? I never knew you Dutch were _that_ crazy... *g* I like it though. It's adorable-crazy, if you know what I mean. Yup, you're right, humans usually would have amputated the hand, I guess. Lucky thing Celylith is not a human, huh? And I'm afraid you won't find out about the word. It's a ... secret! Sorry. *g* And yes, I think I'll write that story next (just like SP last time), but I won't post it until August, that's when your birthday is, correct? And yes, I'm evil. Don't tell me. *g*
Snow-Glory - Hmm, I don't know about that yet. Rashwe might play a part, but I really haven't decided yet. I know, I need to soon, but still… *g* And yes, it's the twins, Legolas will be rather disappointed that Celylith's still there, but I can't say anything about Ethoani, I'm sorry. Right now she's alive, that's something, right? *evil grin* And yes, thank God this story will soon be over. It's beginning to scare me, somehow… *eyes story warily* It has a life of its own, I swear.
Zam - Well, I am most certainly glad that you reacted to reasonably! I was very afraid of what you'd do to me for hurting your husband… *g* And I knew you were behind the sign on Elrohir's back. It was rather obvious, really. LOL, so you'll gut people for a cookie, hmm? Well, I wonder what you'll do for … a whole bag of them??? Mhahahahaha, now I control you!! *g* You have Zam plushies? Well, I want one! Where is it? Where? Never forget, I could kill your husband any time I want! *threatening look* And it's your fault that I think of the ox as "Oswald Spalding"! *points accusingly* All your fault!!
Suzi - OMG! It's a mega-monster-mammoth review! Thanks so much! *huggles* That has got to be the longest review I have ever seen. I'm very, very impressed. And I missed you too. You're my only Scottish reviewer, after all! *g* Thanks for asking, my exams went very well, I was rather surprised myself. No, to be honest, I was VERY surprised. And I can only agree: I hate dentists too. My father is one, so I should know what I'm talking about… *g* Of course Asfaloth is alive! I wouldn't dare hurt him, just imagine what Glorfindel would do to me! *shudders* Nope, I won't hurt the horses, don't worry. LOL, RRS, I see. You might be right, you know, we should definitely check up on Seobryn. *g* Ah, so you've finally caved in as well and started talking to characters. *g* Well, get used to it, mate. I do it all the time… *g* Connor definitely reminds me of Rick in The Mummy. *snickers* It's not stealing, it's _borrowing_… Your weaponry is quite impressive. I especially liked the plastic fork – should definitely come in handy. *g* I love Attila the Hun btw, wasn't he adorable? Really, just a kind, misunderstood person – just like Sauron and Morgoth. Hmm, I'm sorry about Glorfindel, but … well, the part is already written? And I promised it to so many people… *sighs* It's only a little scene, and I won't describe much. I promise, okay? *g* *huggles Glorfindel* Yes, he's so modest, isn't he? Well, I guess being a reborn elf lord and a living legend does that to you… And I know what you mean, Cambridge really does look like Hogwarts, at least parts of it. My mother is still bugging me to apply there as well – as if I had the grades to do that! *shakes head* Really… Well, thanks a lot for the huge review! It was wonderful as always!
Smile Neumann - Yup, you're right, I try to stay as close to canon as possible (except for the whole Arwen-issue, of course *g*), so I won't kill Glorfindel. But I can put him through as much pain and misery as I want! *evil laughter* Great to hear that you like Celylith so much, but I know what you mean. I'm no big fan of OC's either as a rule. *blushes* Thanks so much for all your compliments! I hope you'll like this bit and the rest as well!
Crystal-Rose15 - Hmm, I wouldn't blame your computer if I were you. I'm pretty sure it was FF.net's fault. Don't ask me why, but it's usually their fault. It ate some of my reviews, too, evil site that it is. And you can't glomp them because they're hurt. You just might glomp them to death… *ominous music* Well, okay, you won't, but it could happen! *g* LOL, I agree, the talking-back-at-your-captors-thing just might be an epidemic! We should warn the rest of ME! *g* It's great to hear that you liked the chapter, thanks a lot for all your reviews!
Jera - Oh, the exams did go well, after oral exams we get the grades right away. It's one small advantage of our system - and the only one, but that's beside the point. *g* And you don't have to explain why you're looking forward to the Glorfindel torture, I know exactly what you mean. *insane grin* I think most of the people here do. I agree btw, I would love to know how to pick a lock. It would be very useful indeed. *sighs* Well, you can't have everything I guess. I hate to say it, but I don't think the ox will escape. They're in the middle of the city, after all, it's night and the gates are all closed. The poor thing doesn't stand a chance, but they won't kill it, don't worry. I guess the guards would be afraid to harm one of their lord's presents. *g* I am very flattered that you forgot that Celylith isn't canon, btw. It's a very nice thing to say, thanks a lot! *huggles* And the rest of Glorfindel's story is in 'Straight Paths', at least more or less. I won't tell you what _the word_ is though, sorry. *g* So it really is impersonation, huh? I thought a long time about it, and my Thesaurus lists personation as a synonym of impersonation, and since my dictionary said the word I wanted was personation... *trails off* Well, I knew it. I admit I watched only a few of the Sharpe-movies (and even liked most of them), but usually I can't stand them. I agree, what PJ did to Faramir was far worse (for starters: Shouldn't both of them have been dark haired??), but I still don't like him. Around here he's only known as "The Bean", usually said in a rather disgusted tone of voice. *g* Your exams sound quite bad - somehow they seem to be worse in England, more pressure or something like that. A few friends of mine are studying in London at the LSE, and they say just the same. *shrugs* It really wasn't all that bad. I'm sorry to hear that you have to wait for a whole week, really I am. *huggles* Btw: I don't like your reviews. Not at all. I LOVE them. *g*

Well, I hope I got all the reviews, but with the trouble FF.net once again gave me a few days ago, I can't be sure. I hope I didn't miss someone, and if I did, it wasn't my fault, as always! *g*