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.

28. The Enemy of My Enemy

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

Well, let's begin with saying that yes, there will be some Glorfindel torture in this. However, (and this is the important part) it will be only a short scene, and a lot less graphic than most of the others I've written. The torture per se isn't even that important this time, maybe you'll see what I mean when you've read that part. Most likely not, though - I am mad, after all. *g*

About Lord Súliat - well, no, we won't meet him, but that's mostly because you all know him already. As I said in the last chapter of THOM: How many evil, really powerful lords bent on the destruction of Arda/the world of Men/whatever are there in the Third Age? Bingo, only two come to mind, and one of them is at the moment rather busy looking for something he calls "precious". Besides, he doesn't have a body, and therefore actual face-to-face meetings with his underlings would be rather hard. So, whoever can tell me who the evil overlord is gets a Cendan/Celylith/Girion/Teonvan clone - it really shouldn't be too hard now, should it? *g*

Oh, and one last thing: Girion won't mind that Cendan isn't attending the meeting he called, in fact he would have been rather displeased if he had, I think. He wanted the war council and the _captains_ - as you'll remember, Cendan is merely a lieutenant. So nobody will notice his absence, which is a good thing really because without him the whole thing wouldn't work and everyone would die gruesome, horrible deaths. *g*


Alright, so here's the next chapter, in which the good guys finally plan their next move - about time, I know. Other than that, Cendan loses his temper for a moment or two and tells us more about his family history, we have a little elf lord torture, yes, and the august tradition of sneaking through dark houses is once again revived. Surprise, surprise. *g*

Have fun and review, please

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Chapter 28


The whole situation would have been laughable if it hadn't been so serious, Aragorn decided rather darkly.

On the one side of the roughly carved wooden table sat Laenro and Sero, both of them glaring darkly at Cendan who was sitting across them and didn't appear to be bothered by it in the slightest. The young dark haired lieutenant might just as well have been sitting in a cosy tavern enjoying a tankard of ale with a couple of friends, at least judging by his absolutely unconcerned expression.

On the third side of the table were Legolas and he, sitting on rather comfortable chairs – which was probably quite a good thing too, the young man thought with amusement. If they hadn't been sitting and had been forced to stand, Aragorn was rather sure they would both have collapsed after a few moments, or at least he would have. He was beginning to suspect, however, that Legolas wasn't nearly as healthy as he wanted him to believe either, and as soon as he could he would force that stubborn elf to sit down and have a look at him. He shook his head inwardly. Legolas could be so incredibly stubborn at times…

His thoughts were drawn back to the present when Sero shifted slightly in his chair, his eyes never leaving Cendan's face. All in all, the ranger thought to himself, this whole situation reminded him strongly of the behaviour of three wolves before they charged at each other. The two parties at the table were watching each other suspiciously, searching for any signs of insecurity or any other weakness.

Next to him, Legolas had just come to the same conclusion, and he decided in a split second that he had neither the time nor the desire to sit here all morning and watch Laenro, his second-in-command and Cendan stare at each other. He waited for another moment, hoping that one of the three men would finally show some small sign of maturity and willingness to start speaking, but it became quickly apparent that that wouldn't happen any time soon. Cendan seemed perfectly happy just to sit on his chair and stare emotionlessly at the other two men, while Laenro was apparently far too angry to say anything.

With a small internal sigh Legolas shook his head and fixed his eyes on Cendan, who turned and looked at him under the force of a fierce elven stare.
"Are they still alive?"

He did not elaborate on what he meant, not that he would have needed to. Cendan knew perfectly well what he was talking about.
"Yes," the man said curtly and inclined his head the tiniest bit.

Both Legolas and his human friend tried not to react too openly, but the relief that flooded through them was plain to see for everyone who took a closer look at them.
"All of them?" Aragorn added a second later.

"Yes," Cendan repeated emotionlessly. "The girl is being interrogated at the moment, and one of the elves as well, I guess. Which one, I do not know, but I guess Glamir picked the older one this time. He had a … session with the silver haired one last night."

This time, Legolas' and Aragorn's faces lost all colour, as did Sero's and Laenro's. The elven prince regained the ability to speak first and glared at Cendan, who returned the look remarkably evenly for one of the Second People.
"What has he done to him?" the elf all but hissed, silver-blue eyes fixing on dark blue ones.

"I have no idea," Cendan shrugged nonchalantly. "My men and I are not assigned to the dungeons and are trying to keep away from them as far as humanly possible."

"You are not what you seem," Legolas answered coldly. "You have far more connections than one would expect from a simple lieutenant. Take a guess."

"That may be," the young man answered in an equally cold voice, neither denying nor confirming what he elf had just said, "But the fact remains that I do not know. Other than the dear Captain Teonvan Glamir does not like to boast about his work. But," he added after a moment when Legolas merely continued to glare at him, "I do not think you should be overly worried yet – at least not about your friends. Girion won't allow them to be killed right now, not even the blond one. That girl, however, is an entirely different story."

"Careful, half-breed," Laenro interjected darkly, apparently only one step away from lunging at the dark haired lieutenant. "It is my sister you are talking about."

If Cendan was in any way affected or hurt by the insult, he did not show it. He merely turned to the brown haired man, a scornful look on his face.
"Is that so?" he asked. "Well, then you are at least as much to blame as she is. You are a fool to have sent her to the castle; it is a miracle that the two twin elves escaped. She was doomed the moment she set foot into the dungeons – doomed by her own actions and doomed by your instructions."

Before Cendan could say more, Laenro shot to his feet, and only Sero's restraining hand on his arm stopped him from lunging at the other man.
"I did not order or instruct her to do anything!" Laenro spat at the lieutenant. "She did what she did out of her own free will, and she fooled the guards for more than six months! Say something like this again and I'll rip out your heart and feed it to the dogs!"

Cendan looked at the man in front of him, apparently anything but impressed, and abruptly stood to his feet, about to turn around and leave.
"I see I am wasting my time," he said to no one in particular. "You have nothing I could possibly need or want."

He turned on his heel and began to walk over to the door, but stopped after a few steps when two of Laenro's men entered the room, who had obviously been alarmed by the raised voices and the sound of footsteps. The two humans positioned themselves in the doorway, making it very clear that they did not intend to let anyone pass without explicit orders. Cendan looked at them for a moment and turned back around, an eyebrow arched in faint amusement.
"You mean to keep me here?"

"That depends," Laenro retorted, his face still contorted with rage. "You either stay voluntarily or we'll kill you. You didn't expect us to let you leave just like that, did you?"

Cendan merely shook his head, the eyebrow arching a little higher.
"By all means, no," he answered evenly. "And that is the reason why I left my second with the very clear instructions that he is to inform Teonvan of where I am and whom I went to see should I not be back in the castle in two hours."

"That would mean your death," Sero interjected. "To be found in the company of rebels and escaped prisoners means death, and you know it."

"Aye, I would die," the dark haired man nodded dispassionately. "But so would you."

For a moment, it was completely silent, but then Laenro shook his head.
"You are bluffing."

"I am not," Cendan merely said. "If you do not believe me, ask them." He nodded into Aragorn's and Legolas' direction. "They can tell you that I do not bluff."

Neither of the two friends said anything, and for quite some time not one of the people in the room said anything. Finally Legolas nodded slowly, as if he had discovered something in Cendan's eyes, something he had been looking for.
"You are not bluffing," he confirmed quietly, "But you won't leave either. You need our help as much as we need yours."

"Whatever for?" Cendan asked, apparently greatly surprised. "Why should I need your help? Do not confuse my being here with the sudden urge to 'do the right thing' or 'fight the good fight'. I don't care about what happens to your friends, and I don't care about what happens to you or this little resistance movement. For what could I possibly need your help?"

"To kill Teonvan," Aragorn said softly, his eyes not leaving the other man's face. "That is what you want, isn't it? You want to kill him because he killed your captain, because he killed Reran." Cendan did not answer, his dark blue eyes boring into the young ranger's silver ones, and Aragorn added, "You have known about it all along, haven't you? You always knew it was no accident."

"Of course it was no accident," Cendan said slowly, fierce hatred spreading over his face. "Few rocks possess hands which leave marks around a person's neck."

"Then why didn't you say something?" Legolas asked, truly curious now. "I have seen the way the men acted around you, and the way they looked at Teonvan. They would have believed you had you shown them proof that Reran was murdered."

"Yes," Cendan said blandly. "They would probably have believed me, but that wouldn't have been of any importance whatsoever. They wouldn't have opposed him, for that they are too afraid of him – and with good reason. And even if they had and had forced him to step down in my favour and to come back with us to the city, whom do you think Girion would have believed?" He turned his head and looked straight at Laenro. "A commander he trusted and held in high esteem – or a half-bred lieutenant like me?"

No one answered his question, and a moment later Aragorn inclined his head minutely.
"Alright," he told the other man. "So why did you not seize the chance to turn us in? Why didn't you take the chance to capture us and those who had helped us escape? Surely Girion would have been grateful."

"Because I didn't want to," Cendan answered coolly. "I don't want his gratitude. Besides, Girion does not care. He does not know the meaning of honour, and he doesn't care in the slightest what people in his service do as long as it gets him what he wants. There is nothing Girion could do that would be enough for me to forget that he condoned Teonvan's actions."

"Honour!" Laenro snorted darkly. "So it is in the name of honour that you do this, is it? Are you trying to tell me that your men are willing to risk their lives for your injured sense of justice? What could you know of honour, after all the things you and your men have done?"

"My men," Cendan began slowly, "are willing to risk their lives for me, because they want to avenge their captain as much as I do. Most of them do not care overly much about honour, you are right, but what they do care about is the war Girion is forcing on us." He paused for a second before he continued. "They know that the chances that they'll return are slim, and few are willing to die for Girion's mad ideas. So you are right, Master Laenro, they know little about honour. However," he added darkly, his eyes beginning to gleam in a decidedly menacing, threatening way, "should you ever again question my personal honour, I will kill you where you stand. This is not a threat. It is a promise, a promise I fully intend to keep."

All of the sudden Legolas saw traces of the wild tribes of the East in Cendan, and he decided inwardly that he believed him. Cendan would kill anyone who dared question his honour, and for the first time since he had laid eyes on him, he began to understand the young human, at least a little. He would never trust him – hadn't he been the one who had helped capture him, the one who had had a part in Galalith's and perhaps now also Anardir's death? – but he was finally beginning to understand some of his motives.

"So you want to kill Teonvan," he summed up calmly, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them. "I couldn't agree more. If I ever get the chance, I'll kill him myself, with my bare hands if I have to. But how could your thirst for revenge be of any use for us? How could your hatred for Teonvan help us?"

"Hatred, elf, is a very underestimated emotion," Cendan said softly. Seeing the impassive look on Legolas' face, he added bluntly, "You are my distraction. Or my bait, whichever term you prefer."

Aragorn raised a dark, half-annoyed and half-amused eyebrow.
"Would you care to elaborate on that?"

"Gladly, ranger," Cendan nodded politely into Aragorn's direction, a gesture that seemed oddly out of place in the hostile atmosphere. "I want to kill Teonvan and to stop this war. You want to free you friends. We can achieve both if we work together."

"How?" Laenro asked, sudden interest sparkling in his blue eyes.

Cendan leaned forward, his eyes gleaming and somehow accentuating the darker tone of his skin. His look swept over the three men and the elf in front of him, and it was obvious that he had thought very long and hard about what he was about to tell them.

"Girion is obsessed with two things at the moment," he began. "One, with his war, and two," he nodded into Legolas' direction, "with you and your friends. I am sure you know by now that he knows who you are … Master Legolas?"

The elven prince did his best not to wince. Yes, he had known that Girion and his men had discovered his true identity, but to hear it from Cendan made it seem far more real – and far more dangerous. Next to him, Laenro and Sero looked up in confusion, their eyes darting back and forth between Cendan and the fair haired elf.

"Legolas?" Laenro repeated suspiciously. "Ethoani said your name was Lasseg, elf."

Legolas ignored the rather stupid grin that spread over Aragorn's face at the mention of his nickname and sighed inwardly, turning around to look at the young man and his companion.
"That is the name I gave Girion and his men," he said in a manner of explanation. "Legolas, however, is my true name."

"Why did your hide your identity?" the brown haired man asked warily. "Who are you?"

For the first time since he had set foot into this house, Cendan smiled thinly.

"They do not know, do they?" he asked into Legolas' and Aragorn's direction. Neither of the two provided an answer, and so he turned back to Laenro and his second-in-command, his smile widening ever so slightly. "He is the Elvenking's son. Girion has put a bounty of two hundred gold florins on his head and another one of a hundred florins for each of his companions."

Laenro's eyes grew so large they were in the distinct danger of coming loose and dropping onto the table. Sero didn't appear to be quite as shocked and found his voice first.
"That's five hundred gold florins for all of them."

Four heads turned into his direction, and Sero dropped his gaze to his hands, fiddling with the edge of his shirtsleeve.
"It was just a thought. It's a lot of money."

Laenro didn't seem to be quite as impressed by the admittedly rather large sum of money that Girion offered for the recapture of his four houseguests and merely stared at Legolas with wide eyes that appeared to grow wider by the second.
"The Elvenking's son? Him?" Legolas raised an eyebrow, and the man added hastily, "I just thought … thought you would be a little bit … older?"

Even despite the seriousness of the situation, Aragorn couldn't quite suppress an incredulous chuckle. Oh, where was a painter when you needed one? That look on Legolas' face was simply priceless, and if he looked a little more annoyed, he was sure the elf's face would freeze permanently in the irritated grimace he was wearing now.

If Aragorn's hadn't been hurt, Legolas would have rammed his elbow into the ranger's ribs.
"I am older than I look," he told the brown haired man, brushing back a strand of wayward blond hair with an annoyed gesture and glaring darkly at both Aragorn and Laenro.

"Apparently," Laenro nodded wryly.

"And all this is proving to be quite helpful now," Cendan nodded, grinning inwardly at the elf's obvious uneasiness. He might need his and his friend's help, but he did not like him – or trust him. He was an elf, after all. "Girion is obsessed with getting his hands on you again, mostly for the information he can learn from you, but also just to see you suffer. He will do anything for it, and should he come to achieve it, he will promptly forget everything around him – at least for a while."

Aragorn held up a bandaged hand, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and dislike.
"A moment, please," he said sharply. "I do not like the sound of that at all."

"I promised you a plan that would work, not a plan you would like," Cendan shrugged indifferently.

"So what is your plan then?" Laenro asked. "That we hand them over and hope Girion will be too busy with them to execute my sister? If that had any chance of success, I would have done it a long time ago, trust me."

Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a wry look. Both of them had known that Laenro thought first of his people and his organisation, but to hear it like this was not very pleasant. Cendan merely studied Laenro like a scholar would study a particularly interesting specimen, apparently amused more than anything else by the other man's words.

"No, Master Laenro, that is not my plan, since it would only help you, and not me," he said slowly and very clearly. "What I propose is that one of them gets 'captured' – I don't really care who – which will be enough to distract Girion, Teonvan and Glamir for a while. As soon as we can you, your men and my men and I strike. We will help you to get to the dungeons to free your friends, and while the guards are busy fighting off your men and mine, I will kill Teonvan – and Girion should he get in the way."

Aragorn was about to protest, but Sero beat him to it, a frown creasing his brow.
"The chances of success put aside for a moment: And what then?"

"What then?" Cendan repeated, appearing truly surprised for the first time. "Do not tell me you wish to spare Girion's life."

"He's right," Laenro nodded. "What then? Of course we want to kill Girion, but what will happen then? There is an army of at least seven thousand Easterlings camping in the woods, just in case you'd forgotten. You know they will seize this chance to attack the city; chaos and unrest draws them like carrion draws vultures."

To their surprise, Cendan nodded earnestly, apparently agreeing with the brown haired man's less than flattering description of his mother's people's character.
"You are right, they will attack – or they usually would. Let them be my worry."

"What?" Laenro exclaimed, his worry for his sister and the suspicion he held for Cendan manifesting themselves in a sudden wave of anger. "'Let them be my worry', that's all you have to say? That's all you want to tell us?"

"Yes," Cendan said bluntly. "I have some connections to some of the tribes. Let them be my worry."

"This is the most ridiculous thing I have heard in a long time!" Laenro shook his head incredulously. "How can you expect us to believe you? You have 'some connections to some of the tribes'? Why should they listen to you, to the bastard of a slave girl or a whore?"

Before the man had even spoken the last words, Cendan had shot to his feet, a dagger appearing in his hands so fast that even Legolas had trouble following the movement. Displaying an amazing speed and agility, the young dark haired lieutenant moved forward, and before Laenro knew what was happening, he was being pinned to the table by two steely hands and was looking into the coldest eyes he had ever seen in his life. The sharp steel of a blade bit into the skin of his throat, and with a small shudder of fear Laenro realised that it just might have been a mistake insulting this particular half-breed's mother.

"Repeat that," Cendan hissed, all restraint and control gone from his face and only raw fury remaining. "Repeat it and I'll cut your throat."

"Let him go," Sero demanded, his own knife appearing in his hands. The two men at the door had drawn their weapons as well and were beginning to move over to them as stealthily as possible. "You wouldn't get out of here if you killed him. Let him go."

"We have business to attend to," Aragorn said, his eyes not leaving Cendan's face as he slowly stood to his feet, more because he couldn't move faster than in order not to startle the angry man in front of him. He had always wondered how the usually so calm and controlled lieutenant would react once his limits were reached, and he had to admit that it was not a pretty sight. "Let him go, Cendan. This will help neither of us and is only a waste of time."

Next to him Legolas slowly rose as well, feeling a curious mix of annoyance and glee. He didn't really like either of the two men in front of him, and it was strangely gratifying to see Laenro in this position. Besides, he deserved it.
"Listen to him," he advised the dark haired lieutenant. "Believe me, I would have no problem killing you and risk the danger of discovery. It just might be worth it."

Slowly some of the tension seemed to drain from Cendan's rigid body even though his grip on the other man remained firm. After some moments he raised his head, gave the men and the elf standing around him a quick look and returned his gaze to Laenro, his dark blue eyes now the colour of the night's sky, but otherwise he appeared perfectly calm and in control once more.

"Listen to me, Master Laenro," he said in a very low, very dangerous tone of voice. "I do not care what you think about me. I do not care what you think about my mother's people, and I do not care what you think about my men. I do not want you to like me; I do not like you either. Personally I think all of you are fools, and if the elf and the ranger hadn't been here, I would have turned you in without a second's hesitation."

He leaned a bit closer, his eyes darkening even further.

"But let me make one thing very clear: If you ever dare to speak about my mother like this again, I will slit your throat. She was a chaste woman and no slave girl or whore, and if you should ever suggest otherwise, neither your men nor an appeal to reason will help you, that I swear by the Gods themselves. Do you understand me?"

Laenro nodded quickly, apparently having come to the conclusion that this lieutenant was just as insane as the rest of Girion's men, and Cendan released him abruptly and returned his knife to its sheath at his side. Without another word he turned around and walked back to his chair he had knocked over a minute ago. He picked it up, righted it and slowly sat down, his eyes holding nothing but contempt for those in the room with him.

After another few moments which everyone spent glaring at each other again, Legolas once more decided to break the silence. It appeared that the humans in the room were too stubborn or immature to do it themselves, he thought wryly.
"The question is a valid one though," he said, unperturbed by the dark look on Cendan's face. "Why should they listen to you? I doubt that the Easterlings see you as one of them."

"No, elf, they do not," the young lieutenant admitted. "For them I am a half-breed just like for the people of this city."

Legolas merely continued looking at him, and the man relented with an inward sigh, realising that the elf wouldn't let this matter drop until he had got an answer.

"My mother," he began, looking evenly at Laenro as if daring him to utter even a single word, "met my father on one of his journeys to the East, while he was recruiting soldiers for Girion's grandfather's army; he held the rank of a captain. They married for love, even though it took both of them a long time to convince her father to consent to the marriage. She was lucky she had five sisters, more than enough for her father to wed to the sons of other leaders, and since she had always been his favourite, he gave them his blessings in the end, however reluctantly."

"Your mother was a chieftain's daughter?" Aragorn asked, hiding his surprise well.

"Yes," Cendan nodded. "My grandfather died in the same winter my parents died of the sickness that swept through the city four years ago, and one of her brothers is now chieftain of the tribes to the North."

"Let me summarise all this," Laenro said slowly, but in a carefully neutral voice. "Your uncle is the chieftain of one of the most powerful tribes in the East?" When Cendan gave him a small, annoyed nod, he added incredulously, "Does Girion know about this?"

"By the Gods, no!" the dark haired lieutenant shook his head. "He would have had me killed a long time ago if he did. He would never allow anyone with close ties to the tribes to serve under him. I could act as their spy after all, and plan to overthrow him and his regime and therefore ruin his war for him."

"Are you?" Legolas asked softly.

"Acting as their spy?" Cendan asked amusedly. "No, I am not. I will admit to planning to overthrow Girion though."

"Do you have enough influence on your uncle to convince him to leave this city alone?" Aragorn asked insistently, deciding that they needed to get this meeting over with soon. He was beginning to fall asleep where he sat, and the urge to look after his brothers became ever stronger. "Because if you have not, this interesting little conversation will have been in vain. Even if we managed to free our friends – by whatever means – it wouldn't matter at all, since none of us would escape the Easterlings' attack alive and the entire city would surely be destroyed."

Cendan frowned slightly.
"Enough influence on my uncle: Yes. I think I can convince him that taking this city wouldn't be worth his while, especially considering that they would never be able to leave with the spoils without being attacked by the others. I have only seen him a handful of times, the last time before my parents' death, but I think I can get him to spare Baredlen, and be it only for my dead mother's sake. It would mean calling in every favour he and the rest of my kin owe me in any way, but it can be done."

He took a deep breath and continued emotionlessly,

"I can, however, not make any predictions about how the other tribes will react. My uncle has close ties to the tribe living closest to the great Sea – I think two of my cousins are married with the sons of the chieftain, and his son is married to the chieftain's daughter. They will follow his lead, and so will the smaller tribes as soon as they see that the two most powerful tribes act together. The western tribe and the one to the East have been enemies of my mother's people and especially of the tribe living close to the Sea of Rhûn for generations though, and I do not know what they will do. They might attack simply because the tribes to the North and at the Sea do not."

Legolas narrowed his eyes, a strange, buzzing noise filling his head. He was no stranger to political scheming and manipulation, but all this was giving him a headache. In some strange way, however, it was reassuring to see that the Easterlings were just like all other men he had met in his life, and that they acted out of the same selfish, petty motives. It made them less fearsome, in a way.

"So let's assume that your uncle agrees not to attack the city," he summarised slowly. "Let's further assume that he manages to convince his son's and daughters' father-in-law to follow his lead, that the smaller tribes will fall in line, that they will manage to keep the tribe living to the East and West under control and that the army will dissolve and return to their homes." He paused for a moment before he raised his head again and looked straight at Cendan who had remained silent and not moved a muscle during his summary. "Even if you manage to do that, how are you planning to get to Girion and to get to the dungeons at the same time?"

"I don't think this plan is such a good idea," Aragorn shook his head before Cendan could say anything. "There is no telling what Girion might do to anyone who is recaptured, even if it only for a short while. It's too risky."

"It's the only way," Cendan objected. "Girion is no fool and misses little. Unless he and Teonvan are busy with something, something that is of great interest to them, we stand no chance of getting into the castle without being killed at the gates."

"He's right," Laenro said gruffly, apparently rather unwilling to admit that fact in public. "We have been trying to come up with a way to penetrate the castle's defences for a long time. Unless there's some sort of emergency it's impossible."

"As much as I enjoy seeing the two of you agree on something, I still say it's a stupid idea," Aragorn snapped. "There has to be another way!"

"There isn't," Legolas shook his head slowly, earning himself a look so dark and full of menace from the ranger that even he was impressed. He ignored the dark implications Aragorn's glare promised him and continued, looking thoughtfully at Cendan. "Still, I think that you should tell us a tiny bit more and…"

Before the elf could finish his sentence, one of Laenro's men poked his head in, his face filled with a mixture of curiosity and fear.
"Laenro, I really think you two should come and take a look at this."

The brown haired man cast a look around, shrugged and stood to his feet, quickly followed by Sero who mirrored his superior's actions. A moment later the two of them disappeared out of the room, leaving behind a dispassionate Cendan, an elf and a ranger who was very busy spearing aforementioned elf with his look.

"What do you think you're doing?" Aragorn hissed softly in Elvish at his friend, not even trying to keep his displeasure out of his voice or off his face. "Don't think I don't know what you're planning! I will not let you go back there to get yourself killed!"

"Do you have a better plan?" Legolas asked back, both of his eyebrows arched high. "They are right; this is the only way. Girion wants me more than any of us, so I will go. He will not kill me right away, mellon nín, and as soon as you have freed Celylith, Glorfindel and the girl you will come and get me. It's not a big risk really."

"'Not a big risk'?" Aragorn retorted incredulously. "What do you mean, 'not a big risk'? Of course it's a big risk!"

"Alright, so it's a big risk," Legolas nodded his head impatiently. "But it is a risk one of us has to take, you know that. It has to be this way, if you like it or not. Your brothers can't go, and neither can you. You aren't strong enough yet, and besides, Girion would most likely have you killed on the spot. He needs me, Estel. We must use this."

"We must do nothing!" the man shook his head as well, but reluctant acceptance was beginning to show in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to push it aside. "There is no need for anything like this, there has to be another…"

"Well, if that's not an interesting little surprise," Laenro's annoyed voice interrupted Aragorn's sentence, and the two of them looked up just in time to see Ethoani's brother walk back into the room, a half-frightened and half-furious expression on his face.

He stopped in front of Cendan's chair and stared angrily at the dark haired lieutenant who was slowly beginning to stand to his feet, sporting a rather unconcerned expression. Laenro narrowed his eyes and glared at the other man who returned the look evenly.
"This is not a public convention of some sort, just in case you had misunderstood that! I have half a mind to kill both of you right now, no matter the consequences!"

"I haven't even the faintest idea what you are talking about," Cendan said coldly.

"Oh, you haven't?" Laenro retorted, apparently preventing himself just in time from adding "half-breed" or another insult. He wasn't entirely sure how the lieutenant would react, but he was rather certain he wouldn't like it. "Then, please, explain this!"

He gestured into the direction of the door, and a second later a man entered the room, or was rather pushed over the threshold. His clothes were slightly dishevelled as if he had hastily been searched for weapons, and his hands were half-raised at his sides. Aragorn frowned minutely as he stared at the newcomer's face. He had the feeling that he should know him, and yet neither a name nor a place where he could have seen him before came to his mind.

Cendan's face showed no emotions as always, but it was clear that he hadn't expected to see this man here.
"Menvan?" he asked, arching an eyebrow in what might have been anger or disapproval. "I thought my orders had been unambiguous. I hope you have an explanation for this."

"Indeed I do, sir," Menvan nodded his head and shook off the hand of one of Laenro's men who had grabbed his elbow. "I have news you need to know – all of you."

"Oh, this is priceless," Laenro snorted. "Who else knows about this meeting? All your men or just half of them?"

Cendan ignored the other man completely and merely stared at the inconspicuous man in front of him, and now Aragorn remembered where he had seen him before. This Menvan had been one of Reran's men, and he had seen him many times when they had made camp, since he had been under Cendan's direct command. The young ranger frowned inwardly. He should have remembered him much sooner, but there was something so ordinary and unmemorable about the man that it was hard not to forget his face immediately.

Menvan looked at his lieutenant's emotionless face and saw the anger in his eyes, and he averted his eyes and gave the room a cursory glance. His eyes came to rest on the elf and his human friend for a second or two before he looked back at Cendan and took a deep breath.

"He is to be executed," he said softly. "The day after tomorrow, at noon."

"Start at the beginning, soldier," Cendan all but snapped at him. "Who is to be executed?"

"The elf, sir," Menvan replied and added when he saw the expression on Cendan's face, "The blond one, Lieutenant. Girion has ordered Teonvan and the other captains spread the word in the city that this is what happens to those who dare oppose him."

"What?" Aragorn burst out and would have jumped to his feet had he believed that his legs were up to the task. "They want to execute Glorfindel?"

"If that is his name," Menvan shrugged rather indifferently. "Rumour has it that they need the other elf in case that he," he nodded into Legolas' direction, "is not recaptured, and the girl will only join him on the scaffold if she breaks down by then and is of no more use to them. The blond one is a liability."

"A liability?" Legolas asked sharply. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"I was merely repeating what I was told, Master Elf," Menvan shrugged again.

"It's a trap," Laenro said curtly. "They hope to lure you out instead of having to turn this entire city upside-down."

"Of course it's a trap," Legolas retorted. A thoughtful expression spread over his face as he traded a quick, knowing look with Aragorn. "It may, however, be more than that. It may be the opportunity we have been waiting for."

"Go on," the brown haired man encouraged the elf, looking quickly over to Sero.

Legolas ignored the pleading expression on Aragorn's face and turned to the two soldiers.
"Girion will be present at that execution, will he not?" When the two of them nodded, he went on, "And Teonvan as well, I assume?"

"Yes," Cendan nodded, apparently beginning to understand at what the elf was hinting. "Yes, they'll be there, along with two-thirds of the city's population. Important executions are usually held on the field next to castle. There are two large galleries there, one for Girion and his court, and the other for the execution itself. You won't have seen it since it's opposite the main gates, but it's so large that you need a good part of the castle guards to control the crowds there."

"The castle will be vulnerable then," Legolas inclined his head. "If we strike the day after tomorrow, we can make it. The guards will be divided between the castle and the field, and if one of your men leads us, we can get into the dungeons and out again before anyone notices."

"We will still need a distraction," Laenro pointed out calmly. "There will be considerably fewer guards in the castle that day, yes, but as unhappy as I am to admit that, Girion is no fool. He will suspect something like this, and if there isn't something to draw his attention, he and a large part of the guards will return to the castle."

"You are all forgetting the most important thing," Aragorn interjected. "It's all very nice to think about how to free Celylith and your sister and to kill Girion, but what about Glorfindel? We can't let him die just like that!"

"No?" Menvan mouthed silently and nearly staggered backwards under the force of the young ranger's heated glare. He shook his head inwardly. It had only been a joke, really.

Cendan shot his subordinate a dark glare that promised serious repercussions should he fail to keep his mouth shut and returned his attention to the young ranger, looking rather indifferent to Glorfindel's fate himself.

"Your friend is as good as dead, ranger," he told him coolly. "There is no way to get into the dungeons before the execution is scheduled, and to free him on the field will be nigh impossible. There will be too many guards, and you wouldn't get close enough to the scaffold to do anything. All you can hope for is that Girion will put it off once he's distracted, even though I wouldn't count on it if I were you."

"That is not nearly good enough," Aragorn retorted icily. "I don't care about how easy or hard it will be to save him. I won't let him die."

"You may have no choice," Laenro nodded into Cendan's direction. "He's right. We may simply have to sacrifice one of them to free the others."

"Oh, really?" the ranger exclaimed and gripped the tabletop so tightly that the knuckles showed white through the bloodless skin. "How easily you say such things! Tell me one thing, Master Laenro: Would you do it? Would you agree to this if it were your sister we are talking about, would you simply let her die without even trying to save her?"

"Let me think, ranger," Laenro hissed back, apparently once again close to losing his temper. "Would I sacrifice her life for the chance to free two others, kill dozens of guards, eliminate one or more captains and rid this city of Girion and his regime once and for all?" He paused and looked at the other man, blue eyes locking with grey ones. "Yes. Yes, I would do it, and so would she if she were in my place. This is an opportunity too good to pass up."

Legolas who had been silent until now suddenly raised his head, a strange light shining in his eyes as he turned to Cendan, apparently unaware of the argument he was just interrupting.
"How are people executed here?" Cendan merely stared at him while Aragorn and Laenro fell silent, and Legolas added in the face of the humans' obvious confusion, "Do you hang them? Are they beheaded? How are they put to death?"

Sero frowned at the elf and finally answered as it became apparent that no one else would.
"It depends. If there is more than one prisoner – and that happens very often – they are usually beheaded since that's the quickest way to do it, but hanging isn't uncommon either."

"They will hang him," Menvan supplied quietly. "Teonvan said it would be more fun this way and give the people something to watch. Beheadings are bloodier, but not as much fun to watch."

The elf's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly as he heard the captain's name, but other than that he did not react at all. For a few moments the humans stared at the fair haired being who was apparently deep in thought, and just when Aragorn was about to ask what he was aiming at Legolas raised his head, a small, unreadable glint in his eyes.

"There is a way," he said slowly. "If we time it precisely and with your help," he nodded into Cendan's and Menvan's direction, "we can save both Glorfindel and the other two, kill Girion and Teonvan and free your city. It won't be easy, but it's doable. Much will depend on how many men you can rally."

Laenro gave the elf a cautious look, and decided with an inward sigh to trust him. They were in this together, and it was far too late now to try and back out.
"In two days I can have about two hundred men here. No more, I fear, but they know how to wield a sword and won't hesitate to use it."

Cendan raised a surprised eyebrow, the only outward sign of his surprise. He hadn't thought that Laenro's little resistance movement had more than perhaps six or seven dozen members, but it appeared he had underestimated the other man. Very well, he vowed to himself, that wouldn't happen again. He was apparently a lot more dangerous than he had thought.

"Before I joined Reran's men, I commanded a number of units," Cendan said curtly. "Often I was able to choose the officers that were to succeed me. Most of them – and their men – will follow me; they think as I do and are not willing to lead their men to the West to watch them be slaughtered. There are other commanders I can approach, men that either hate Teonvan enough or are as unwilling to die for Girion as we are. With luck and the Gods' grace I can promise you half of the guard corps and perhaps a third of the soldiers. The element of surprise is ours, and the others will fall in line quickly once their officers are eliminated."

Aragorn looked sharply up from where he had been studying Legolas' calm (too calm, a voice in his head whispered warningly) face, slightly taken aback by the other man's cold-bloodedness. Cendan talked as if he had no problem killing his fellow officers, and when Aragorn looked into the other man's dark blue eyes, he realised that he would indeed have no qualms whatsoever to kill all those who opposed him in any way.

"Really?" Laenro asked eagerly, apparently not at all disturbed by the thought of eliminating about half of Girion's officers. "So many?"

Cendan merely inclined his head the fraction of an inch and looked at the elven prince, who valiantly ignored Aragorn's look and nodded back at him, his eyes holding a slightly faraway look.
"Yes," Legolas said softly. "Yes, that should be more than enough. Do you have access to Girion's gallery?"

This time, the surprise broke through Cendan's emotionless façade.
"Yes," he said, obviously puzzled. "Yes, I do, at least limited access, that is. I can come and go as I please, even though I cannot come anywhere near him."

"Then it will work," Legolas nodded again. He slowly turned back to Aragorn who was looking at him with barely concealed dread on his face. "I fear you won't like it though."

The small cluster of fear and apprehension that had been steadily growing in the young ranger's stomach grew to improbable proportions while Legolas explained his plan, and in the middle of it Aragorn decided that, as always, his friend's words had been a gross understatement.




Glorfindel was quickly coming to the conclusion that Elrond had been right all along. He was stupid, idiotic and sometimes amazingly irresponsible for his age.

The small, apparently rather demented man in front of him seemed to agree with him on this, which would be the first thing they had agreed on since he had seen it fit to have him dragged out of the cell. It wasn't that he had liked the cell overly much, he thought somewhat dreamily, but it hadn't been too bad now that he thought about it.

He was still busying himself with trying to come up with all the reasons why exactly the cell hadn't been so bad (try as he might, he couldn't think of anything but the fact that the company had been rather enjoyable and that it had a comfortable floor), the sound of footsteps reached his ears, and with a small, inward sigh he raised his head again.

He couldn't really remember when he had let it sink forward – it couldn't have been a voluntary decision on his part, since that was most definitely not something he would have chosen to do, especially in front of this man – but somehow that didn't seem to matter at the moment. All that mattered was the pain that throbbed through his body, and even though it was by far not the worst pain he had ever been in, it was nearly enough to overwhelm his senses.

The footsteps turned out to belong to Glamir as he had suspected, no matter how much he had wished the man had turned into a small pile of ashes on the floor. The golden haired elf fought the almost irresistible urge to giggle. That would have been too much to ask for, after all.

The man sauntered over to where he was chained to the wall, satisfaction and strangely also disappointment emanating from his small frame. Glorfindel had long ago given up figuring out what the man was thinking or feeling, however (besides, he didn't care in the slightest), especially considering that Glamir would tell him anyway. If there was one thing he was certain about at the moment, it was that Glamir enjoyed listening to the sound of his own voice far too much.

The man stopped in front of him and looked him over, his eyes travelling over his prisoner's suspended body and his face creased with something that looked like severe disapproval.
"I must say, Master Elf," he began conversationally, "I am rather disappointed. I had rather hoped that this would be more … fun."

Had Glorfindel seen any sense whatsoever in it, he would have informed the man that he didn't care about how much fun he had or not. Aragorn would most likely have talked back to the man, and the twins and the two Mirkwood elves as well, but he was old and experienced enough to know that that wouldn't change anything. It might only make everything even worse, though if in what way, he truly couldn't say right now.

It was impossible to tell if Glamir was pleased or angered about his captive's lack of response. For a few moments he merely stared at the elf who returned the look evenly out of emotionless if somewhat glazed eyes. No, the man thought to himself, this was no fun at all. He had known that elves were stubborn and that it was hard to get a reaction out of them, that much he had learned from the others, but this was positively … vexing.

This one was different, he decided and cocked his head to the side as he studied the golden haired being's now rather bloody face. The other elves had worn prideful and brave masks and had done everything in their power to keep silent, yes, but in the end they had failed, just like all of his "projects" were doomed to fail. In the end they all screamed, it was only a matter of time. This elf hadn't screamed, and he didn't appear to have any inclination of changing that particular attitude any time soon either.

Glamir could have lived with that; he was not an uncontrolled man like Teonvan, after all. It wasn't about the screams; it was about the art, about the knowledge that one got somewhere with what one was doing. This time, however, he wasn't getting anywhere, the balding man admitted to himself. The other elves had shown some fear, even if only towards the end. Everyone he had ever had a "session" with had shown some kind of fear before the end, and be it only in their eyes or in the way they held themselves.

This … Glorfindel (or whatever his name may be) however did not, and that was beginning to truly grate on Glamir's nerves. No matter what he did and no matter in how much pain the prisoner should be, he showed no sign of fear, none whatsoever, and Glamir was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't afraid of him at all.

That was of course highly unlikely, he knew that himself, but right now he could think of no other explanation. There was no frightened expression mixed with the pain in those blue eyes, pain that not even this elf could hide completely; all there was to see was an almost mocking glint, as if nothing Glamir had done or could hope to do could ever measure up to what he had already seen and experienced.

Glamir clenched his jaw, anger beginning to fill his entire being. He hadn't felt so … inferior and helpless in a long time, and it was not a feeling he cherished. The sudden burst of fury prompted him to take a step forward, and with an irritated, dark snarl he reached out with one of his hands and grabbed his prisoner by the hair that had long ago come loose of its braids and hung now in sweaty strands around the pale face. The man tangled his fingers in the golden strands and jerked the elf's hair up, his anger mounting even higher when he saw the almost annoyed expression in the other's eyes.

"No," he said in a pressed voice, "You are no fun at all. What does it take to make you lose control, if only for a little while?"

He let his eyes wander over the prisoner, taking in the bruises that covered most of the face and the long gashes that were visible through the tears in the remains of what had once been a light-coloured shirt. Now, the man thought detachedly, it was more of a russet colour due to the dried blood that clung to most of it, and once again Glamir contemplated removing the shredded garment completely. It was rather unsatisfactory not being able to see his work.

His eyes moved over to the wooden chest that was standing a few feet away from them to their left, a small part of his mind noting with displeasure that it once again was getting stained by a rather large amount of blood. The red liquid trickled down from the whips lying on top of it, one next to the other in a neat, orderly line. They were all of different designs, from ropes to leather cords to thin chains, and all of them had been used today, more or less intensively. Glamir was rather fond of all of them just as he was fond of all of his tools, and the fact that he had put all of them to good use during the past hour or so to absolutely no avail only managed to incense him even further.

"So," he began, returning his attention to the elf in front of him, "What do we do now? I still have some time before I have to end this and address myself to interrogating your young friend, so what should we try this time? Some more time with the whips, or something else?"

A dark, angry sparkle flared up in the elf's eyes at the mention of the younger elf, and Glamir continued, realising that he just might have found the way to break through the elf's stoic, proud façade.

"Or should I have him brought here?" he asked softly, watching with fascination how the anger in those clear blue eyes grew. "He was quite stubborn, you know, just like the two brothers before him. And while I didn't have the time to break them, I will have time to break him, that I promise you."

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he looked into the man's cold brown eyes. He still did not wish to talk to this sick little creature, but the last thing he needed now was to watch how he hurt someone else, and especially the young wood-elf, to get to him.
"What do you want with me?" he asked in a soft voice that was devoid of most of the pain he was in. "I won't tell you anything, and you know that. You are wasting your time, human."

Glamir let go of the elf's head and stepped back, an amused sparkle in his eyes.
"I don't want to hear anything from you, elf, except maybe a scream or two."

"Then," the elf retorted icily, his face so calm that he might have been sitting at a conference table and not been hanging bleeding by his wrist in a cell, "You will have to wait for quite a long time. You are a child dabbling in a man's work. Nothing you could do would change anything, and that is the thing you cannot even admit to yourself."

Glamir stared at the elf, his thoughts and emotions in turmoil. Anger boiled hot in his veins, threatening to choke him, but the worst thing was that, deep down in his heart, the man knew the prisoner was right. Shaking off that thought, he raised a mocking eyebrow at the elf, inwardly trembling with shock and rage.

"Is that so?" He reached out, parted the tattered shirt that covered the fair haired being's torso and trailed a finger along one of the welts, grinning slightly as a small flicker of pain flashed over the elf's face. "You are awfully cocky for someone in your position, elf. If you knew what was good for you, you would be a little more afraid."

Glorfindel refrained from pointing out to the man that, no matter what he did or how much longer he tortured him, he would never get close to the agony he had experienced during his death. There was nothing he could do to him that could ever hurt as much as these few moments before the blackness of death had mercifully taken him, these few moments in which he had watched his skin and hair catch fire and smelt the sickening smell of his own burning flesh.

The elf lord shuddered inwardly. After all these millennia the memories were still fresh enough to make him actually feel the pain he remembered so vividly, and he still awoke screaming once in a while. No, he thought to himself, there was no way Glamir could get close to a balrog, even though he wouldn't tell him that. It just might serve to give the man ideas or awaken the urge to try and prove him wrong.

"I am not afraid of you," Glorfindel informed the man coldly, doing his best to ignore the pain that seemed to fill every square inch of his torso. "As I said, you are but a child to me. I haven't been afraid in a long time, and I have faced beings far older and more fearsome than you."

"Ah, the unflappable elven pride and composure," Glamir nodded knowingly, hastily masking his own growing confusion. This elf was either mad or stupid, he wasn't sure which yet. "I had expected something like this from you, to be honest. The question is whether or not you will still be displaying that attitude the day after tomorrow."

The small man paused and looked at his elven prisoner expectedly, only to sigh inwardly with exasperation when the fair haired being merely gave him a blank look. How was one supposed to wake fear in someone's heart when that someone didn't even know what one was talking about?

"I see they failed to inform you," he said disapprovingly and began to walk over to the wooden chest. He stopped next to it and eyed the tools lying on top of it thoughtfully as he tried to make up his mind as to which one he should use next. "It is so hard to find guards that are more intelligent than the average mountain goblin, wouldn't you agree?"

Glorfindel merely stared at the man, giving him his best I-am-a-millennia-old-elf-lord-and-very-close-to-losing-my-temper-look, and Glamir quickly averted his eyes. It appeared that the elf wasn't really interested in the questionable intelligence of the guard corps.

"Be that as it may," he went on, running a hand over one of the implements and gazing disapprovingly at the dark red liquid that covered his fingertips when he withdrew it, "I really think that it would be only polite to inform you." He turned around, eyeing the elf sharply. "Your execution is scheduled in two days, at noon. Don't worry about your companion, though," he added loftily and with a benevolent smile that only fuelled the fury that was beginning to fill Glorfindel's being, "He won't be joining you. He and I have a lot of things to talk about yet."

"He won't tell you anything," the golden haired elf shook his head, not really knowing why he was even talking to this insane little man. "He would never betray his people, his king or his prince, and most definitely not to you."

"Oh, but he will," Glamir smiled friendly and turned back to the whips. "Not today, and not even tomorrow, but soon, believe me. All I need is time, and considering that you elves are supposed to be immortal…" He trailed off and shrugged. "I don't even have to break him before my lord leaves with his army. That's what carrier pigeons are for, hm?"

Glorfindel decided that there was really nothing he could retort to this, especially considering that it might not be such a good idea to tell the man the very elaborate, uncomplimentary Dwarven curse he had just remembered. The elf merely raised his head as far as he could, shackled and hurting as he was, and gave Glamir the coldest, darkest, most contemptuous look he could manage right now, the one that had – only once or twice, admittedly – even managed to stop Erestor in mid-tirade when the Noldo was having his adventurous time of the yén.

Glamir seemed to be suitably impressed by it, since he nonchalantly dropped his eyes to the floor and, almost as if to do something to distract himself, picked up one of the tools. It was the whip with the small, thin chains, and Glorfindel realised with a small pang of dread that it just might have been a mistake to open his mouth in the first place. He sighed inwardly. Elrond was indeed right, it appeared. He was unable to keep his mouth shut when it mattered.

As if the instrument had infused him with a new certainty and strength, Glamir raised his head again and began to walk over to his captive, who was still displaying an annoyingly unconcerned and calm façade. Damn him, Glamir thought angrily, more vexed by this elf than he had been by any other being for a long, long time, damn him to whatever unpleasant places his afterlife had in store for him. He really was no fun at all.

"Since you failed to give me an answer," he began casually, "I just assumed that you would enjoy some more time with the whips; I hope that wasn't too presumptuous on my part?" The elf didn't answer, not that Glamir had expected him to, of course. "As I said, we still have some hours today, and even more tomorrow. We really have to make the most of the time we have before you … well, die, don't you think?"

If anything, the elf looked amused at the possibility of torment and death. He merely raised a golden eyebrow and gave him a pitying smile that very clearly stated that this was a most feeble threat, just like the ones before it.
"It would certainly not be the first time, human."

Glamir stopped in front of the prisoner, drew back and dealt a blow to the other's face, more to mask his mounting frustration and confusion than to punish the elf for his arrogant tone of voice. At least he had got the answer to one question, the man thought to himself as he took a step to the side, readied the whip and watched the elf slowly raise his head again, the defiant fire in his eyes burning even more brightly than before if such a thing was even possible.

This one was most definitely mad.




Aragorn was watching the late afternoon sunlight creep over the floorboards of the small room, asking himself why every single healer he met felt the sudden urge to threaten him with doom, drugs and dismemberment. Usually in that order, too.

He hadn't really done anything to merit such threats, at least not in his opinion. He had been his usual, reasonable self – a description which would have sent Legolas into waves of uncontrollable giggling, he was aware of that. The elf had insisted that Thesieni had been perfectly right to throw him out of Elladan's and Elrohir's room, because he had allegedly behaved like a 'large, nearly hysterical mother hen'.

The young man growled inwardly. He had been nowhere near 'hysterical'. He might have been a little bit agitated, yes, but everyone would have been agitated if he had just seen his brothers in various states of bloodiness. Legolas was once again exaggerating, but unfortunately the female healer had seemed to agree with him on this matter. Aragorn was no fool, and if he had learnt one thing in his life, it was never to get on the wrong side of a healer. That didn't mean that one had to abide by all their rules and orders, of course; clever people merely waited until they were out of sight, another thing he had got very good at.

The thought of his elven friend caused him to prop himself up on his elbows and to turn slightly to the right. Next to him, no more than two feet away due to the small size of the room, was Legolas, lying on a narrow bed just like he was, and at the moment the elf was fast asleep. A small smile spread over Aragorn's face as he watched the sleeping elf's face, only the quick stab of fear unsettling him slightly as he saw his friend's closed eyes.

It was only natural, he told himself firmly for the umpteenth time. Legolas' body might have healed quickly, as always, but the elf was still far from perfect health. He was sorely in need of rest, and had been so exhausted that his eyes had closed almost as soon as his head had touched the pillow.

After Cendan had left in the morning and Laenro had stomped out of the room, clearly angry at the lieutenant, them and about every other person in the world, both Legolas and he had needed a long time until they had managed to get up the stairs again, and if not for their "pigheaded stubbornness", as it had been termed more than once, they wouldn't have made it either.

While they had been climbing the creaking wooden steps, Aragorn had – vainly, of course – tried to convince the elf that the plan he had come up with and that had somehow been accepted by the others was stupid, foolish, reckless and, in short, doomed to failure. It wasn't really what he thought – he was old and reasonable enough to see that the elf's plan might just be the only way all of them would get out of this alive – but the decidedly larger part of him still froze in fear whenever he thought about it.

Legolas, however, had not been impressed by his arguments, and in the end Aragorn had given up. He knew that steely glint in Legolas' eyes, he had seen in many times in the past, and he knew that there was no way the elven prince would change his mind now. Not that he could blame him, of course, he thought to himself. He knew how close Legolas and Celylith were, and he also knew what the silver haired elf's death would do to his friend. He had seen it last year, when they had both thought Celylith had died, and the empty, despairing look in Legolas' eyes that had been bereft of hope and light and laughter and everything that made Legolas Legolas was something he never wanted to see again.

No, he knew that the elf would do what it took to free his friend and Glorfindel, and so would he, if he was perfectly honest. He had a score to settle with these people who had hurt close to every person that meant something to him in this world, and that was something he didn't forgive easily. It was something he didn't forgive at all now that he thought about it, and he would make sure these men realised what a mistake they had made before they died.

Still, just because he accepted the necessity of such a plan it didn't mean that he approved of Legolas', and, more precisely, of the part of Legolas' plan that placed the fair haired elf in the riskiest position he had been able to find. It would need only a very slight mistake on someone's part, only the tiniest miscalculation or delay and Legolas would die, which was yet another thing he wasn't willing to accept.

The young ranger automatically opened his mouth to try and reason once again with the elf only to close it again with a small snap when he remembered that Legolas was asleep. He didn't want to wake him for this (and didn't want to know what the elf would do to him if he did, in fact), since it had only been about three or four hours ago that he had been contemplating how to put Legolas to sleep.

It had been just after Thesieni had shut the door of the twins' room in their faces and had told them in very unambiguous terms that they were not to come back until she said so that they had dragged themselves back to their room, knowing full well that there was nothing they could do now. They wouldn't be able to help Laenro prepare anything or rally his men, they couldn't leave the house, and so the only thing Aragorn could think of to pass the time was to force the elf to sit down and let him have a look at his injuries.

It had taken him a lot of open threats, outrageous promises and pleas to get Legolas to comply, but in the end he had conceded, and Aragorn had once again had the chance to scold his friend for not taking better care of his body. It truly hadn't been the elf's fault this time, Aragorn was perfectly aware of that, but it had become a kind of ritual for them to berate the other about his foolishness when they were tending each other's wounds.

After the young man had made sure that Thesieni was indeed right, that Legolas' wounds would all heal with time and that the old stab wound that was still giving the elf considerable trouble was healing slowly but was not infected, he had tried to convince Legolas that yes, he was fine, no, he didn't need him to change his bandages now, and yes indeed, he was more than capable of looking after himself.

When he had already contemplated drugging the elf to make sure he slept a little – or to hit him over the head with something hard and unyielding – Legolas had finally given in and had at least conceded to lie down, even though he had made the fierce promise that he wouldn't sleep since he wasn't tired in the least.

Aragorn's smile widened a little more. Not even Legolas' strong will or his stubbornness had been able to keep him awake once his head had touched the soft pillow, and half a minute after he had vowed not to need any rest the elf had been sleeping deeply. The man was very glad about it, too, especially because he really hadn't wanted to drug Legolas – the elf reacted rather strangely about things like that.

The young ranger sighed softly and lay back down, willing himself to fall asleep. There was nothing he could do now but worry about Glorfindel, Celylith and his brothers or count the holes Teonvan's spikes had left – both not overly appealing possibilities. No matter how hard he tried, however, he simply couldn't find any rest here, even though his body was so exhausted and in so much pain that he was beginning to develop a splitting headache – the only kind of pain he hadn't had to begin with.

He didn't really understand why he couldn't sleep; maybe it had something to do with that horrible liquid of which the dark haired captain had been so fond. Thesieni, who was quite an accomplished healer as he had found out in the past few hours, might even be able to enlighten him about that, but he wasn't about to ask her. She would merely give him a dark glare and reach into that huge bag where she kept her herbs and medicines, muttering something about stubborn young people. No, the man thought darkly, that would not do.

Aragorn found himself suddenly wishing for one of his father's foul-tasting draughts. No matter how vile they might taste, Elrond's medicines always worked, and right now he would be willing to put up with the taste if he could only sleep an hour or two. A moment later he realised just what he had thought, and with a small shiver of horror he shook his head and decided that enough was enough. If he was already beginning to fantasise about his father's potions, there was something wrong indeed, and there was only one way he could be sure about finding some sleep this accursed evening. Legolas and Thesieni would most likely have his head mounted on the front door tomorrow morning, but right now he didn't care.

Slowly and as soundlessly as he could he began to sit up and swung his legs over the edge of the narrow bed. A few moments later he was standing upright and managed to cross the few feet over to the next wall without falling flat on his face. Gripping the wall tightly he moved over to the door, deciding inwardly that it was really beginning to get easier to walk already. Thesieni had told him that the men that managed to survive the brown potion usually recovered swiftly, and it appeared that what little elven blood he still possessed was aiding him in his recovery.

He reached the door and turned slowly back around, giving the sleeping elf a last look before leaving the room. It was a testament to Legolas' exhaustion that he hadn't even stirred, he thought to himself as he slowly began to walk down the corridor. He only hoped that he would remain asleep for a bit longer, because he really didn't want to know what the elf would do once he discovered that he had disappeared without a trace.

Aragorn smiled to himself, clinging to these thoughts as a means to distract himself from the pain that throbbed through him with every step he took. Legolas would probably turn the house upside down and then, when he had finally found him, he would lecture him on his recklessness and foolish behaviour. He shrugged lightly. Well, it would certainly not be the first time, would it?

A few moments later he reached his destination, inwardly rather glad about it. He looked first right and then left to make sure that he was indeed alone and then reached out with his right hand and opened the door, giving a silent prayer of thanks when the well-oiled hinges didn't even give the smallest creak. The young ranger quickly wiped a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes and moved into the room, closing the door again as soon as he had stepped inside.

For a couple of second he merely leaned against the closed door and took in the sight in front of him, enjoying the relief and happiness that flooded through him. Yes, he thought quietly to himself, Elladan and Elrohir might look like prime examples for half-dead casualties that had been pulled out of the rubble of a collapsed building, but right now he couldn't think of any sight that would fill him with more contentment, not even that of Teonvan's dead body – and that meant quite a lot in his opinion.

He stepped closer to the two beds that stood at the far side of the room, separated only by about three feet. Next to each of them was an armchair and a small nightstand which were covered with various cups, mortars, phials, bunches of dried herbs and bandages, and a small fire was still going in the fireplace to Aragorn's right.

The dark haired ranger stopped in front of the beds, wondering for a moment how anyone could mistake one of the two elves for the other. It happened to about everyone who met them for the first time and even to quite a lot of people who had known them for long years, but it never ceased to astonish him. He had been able to see the small, but to him clearly visible differences between them from a very early age, and even now they hadn't disappeared and were clear to see in the faces of the twins that were relaxed in sleep.

Aragorn first stepped up to Elladan's bed, who was lying on his stomach, and gently removed the thick blankets that covered the older twin. The elf's back was covered from neck to hips with crisp white bandages, and the man had to suppress the anger and hatred that welled up inside of him at the sight. He carefully replaced the blankets and leaned forward a little to feel his brother's forehead, feeling relief fill him when he felt his relatively cool forehead. It was still too hot, but now he understood why Thesieni had left the twins alone for a few moments. Elladan's temperature was still too high, but it wasn't life-threatening anymore. With time and as soon as he woke up, he would be just fine.

The young man turned his attention to the other bed whose occupant was just as deeply asleep as the other elf. Elrohir was lying on his back, an enormous bandage encircling his head, the bruises on his cheeks in stark contrast to the linen's whiteness. Even despite the multiple blankets that covered him from head to toe the thick bandages around his leg could be seen, and Aragorn had to resist checking that wound as well. The younger twin appeared to be deeply asleep, his eyes tightly closed just as Legolas' and his brother's.

For long moments, Aragorn merely looked at the two sleeping twins, studying their bruised, relaxed faces. Finally he turned back to Elladan and gently brushed some strands of dark hair away from his face, before repeating the process with Elrohir.

"Sleep well, my brothers," he whispered softly and slowly moved over to the armchair next to Elrohir's bed. It took him some time to reach it and climb into it without making any noises, but in the end he managed to, pain and pride at his accomplishment filling him to equal parts.

Aragorn gave the two slumbering elves a last, long look before he curled up in the chair, and in a matter of moments silence once again settled over the darkened room as he joined them in restful sleep.

TBC...

mellon nín - my friend
yén - elvish unit of time, equivalent to 144 years




*smiles benignly* Ah, see, they are all alright - relatively speaking, I mean? Well, Glorfindel, Celylith and Ethoani might not agree, but I'll just ignore that. *g* So, things are beginning to get interesting next chapter, in which we'll see annoyed elven princes, worried rangers, a rather confused elven twin and a (presumably) Vanyarin and a Silvan elf who are also quite annoyed. I think they're all annoyed right now. *g* It should be here in a week, as always, and (again, as always) reviews are cherished and loved. I mean it. *g*

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Additional A/N:

Deana - *narrows eyes slightly* Is-this-a-joke-is-it-not-is-this-a-joke... Well, in case it wasn't a joke, no, there won't be any Legolas torture anymore. Or, slowly: No - Legolas - torture - for - the - rest - of - this - story. *g* Sorry about that, but the poor guy deserves a break.
Sirithiliel - It's nice to see you agree. I hope it's with my no-more-torture-policy - even though I doubt it somehow... *g* Well, be that as it may, thank you for all your reviews, and I really hope you'll enjoy the rest of this fic as well!
Tychen - You should chain the laptop to your desk, really. This way no one can remove it. It's what I do - my sister is horrible when it comes to 'borrowing' things. She still has my discman she 'borrowed' three days ago for a few hours... *sobs* I'll never see it again, I just know I won't... *coughs* Well, yes, whatever. LOL, the scene in Laenro's house is like an E.R. episode? To be perfectly honest, I never watched more than two episodes, I somehow never really liked it - even despite George Clooney. *g* And you're right of course, Glorfindel is the only one who can (and has to) get tortured. Poor him. *evil grin*
Red Tigress - Me too! I HATE oral exams, I just HATE them. I do quite well at them, but that's of no importance. I hate sitting there and looking at all those people and knowing what I _don't_ know and... *trails off* Sorry, but the next one I have to take is about the medieval German settlements in the East. It's a nightmare - _my_ nightmare. I didn't have a choice, but that doesn't make it any easier... I hate that period of time, and everything connected with settlements in any form is my own personal nightmare. *sighs* Well, I still have some time. Hmm, come to think of it, Celylith could adopt a gross, mutated roach? Or a rat? Or both? What do you think? *g*
Ellyrianna - Uhm, no, Nili didn't post early. Nili has changed the update rhythm from Fridays to Wednesdays, and was in fact four days late. Nili will now stop speaking about herself in third-person. *g* I am, however, more than happy to see that you've reviewed. I love reviews, something I state far too often for my taste. *g* It's moce to hear that someone likes Elladan better than Elrohir. Elrohir really has a lot more fans than his brother; I really can't understand it. I love them both. Thank you very much for leaving your 'twisted musings' long enough to review! *huggles*
Bailey - No, sorry, I won't tell you whether or not Ethonai is going to be rescued. The fic will be over soon anyway, so you have to wait only ... hmm, let me see ... two or three chapters, I think. *evil grin* About the alliance with the Easterlings: It _could_ be a good thing, if our heroes manage to prevent them from sacking Baredlen. If not, they will all die. *g* Surprise, surprise.
Someone Reading - *shakes head sadly* I really can't understand why no one likes Girion. I understand why you wouldn't like Teonvan (I don't like him myself) or even Glamir, but I really like Girion. *shrugs* Don't tell me, I'm mad. LOL, so this is almost as good as chocolate? That's high praise indeed, thank you! *g* I like chocolate too (who doesn't), but I think I like Diet Coke with Lemon better at the moment. Then again, I'm addicted to it, so... *g*
Cosmic Castaway - Hmm, it's just the question of whether you not talking to me is a good or a bad thing! *evil grin* No, don't worry, j/k, I would be greatly distraught if you wouldn't talk to me. So here's the next bit! *g*
Jinnder - Well, as I said in the A/N, no one will miss Cendan overly much. Teonvan will most likely even be very happy that he isn't there. *g* And I'm very happy to hear that you like Cendan, I like him quite a lot myself. He's ... adorable. Kind of evilly adorable, but still. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!
Karone Evertree - You're quite right, you know. Laenro and his merry little band of rebels will find out about Legolas' real name this chapter, and they're not really happy. A bit surprised, too, but that's understandable, I think. LOL, Celylith has indeed his moments. You know, I could just imagine Legolas saying something like that, with a condescending smile of course. *g* And hey! I mean, I post once a week, and I warned you beforehand of the five-days-delay, didn't I? But I have both, homework AND memory lapses. *g*
Alariel - *evil grin* Yup, the tension is building, you're right. Legolas has indeed a grand plan, even though you'll have to wait a bit to find out what it is. Aragorn is NOT happy about it though. *g* And you're right again, Cendan IS different. He's kind of honourably evil - everything he does it according to (his own) code of honour. That's something, I guess. LOL, yes, the fire-breathing dragon. You guys are obsessed with it, aren't you? *g*
Alasse Tiwele - *g* Once again, sorry. The word is top secret - so top secret that even I don't know what it is. *g* Last chapter had a cliffy? You see, that wasn't one, not even tiny one, at least in my opinion. A cliffy is something entirely different. *g* In my opinion, that is.
Firnsarnien - You are absolutely right, of course, but you have to admit that there is no way Glamir could know the while balrog-thing. Poor Glamir actually, all this is proving to be quite frustrating for him... *g* As I said in the A/N, Girion won't miss Cendan since he's only a captain, and I am rather sure that Teonvan would rather take his other two lieutenants with him, if he took someone at all. And you're right again, everything is going to depend on their ability to work together. *loks at stubborn elf, ranger and assorted men at the table* Well, there goes their chance of survival... *g*
Smile Neumann - LOL, so he's your Glorfy now, huh? And yes, it would be quite nice if Cendan helped them just like that, but unfortunately we aren't truly nice. *g* Thranduil wouldn't punish Legolas for getting captured, you're right of course, and I even doubt that Elrond would do anything to them other than lecture them for a few decades. But just wait a chapter or two, Legolas will yet do something that will most definitely earn himself his father's wrath. *g*
AngelMouse5 - Of course I remember you, as far as I know I don't have that many insane Australian reviewers. *g* Oh, and I can most definitely not tell you what the word is, I have been keeping silent about it for about half a year now. I can't tell you, sorry - Glorfindel and Erestor would kill me, and I really don't want to die yet, if somehow possible. And this story will be 32 chapters, at least it looks like that now. I don't think I'll write more. *g*
Celebdil-galad + Tinlaure - Hmm, let me think for a moment. Why not torture Legolas some more? A. It would ruin the plot. B. This is a story, not a single long torture session. C. He may be an elf, but he's not Superman. There are limits to what an elven body can take. D. The same goes for an elven mind. E. I don't like writing torture, and he's had his turn. F. ... Well, there isn't an F. I think that's about it. *g* It's great to hear that you paper went well, and I would love to meet your horse! If I'm ever in the neighbourhood, I'll visit. *g* No, that won't happen any time soon (or ever, most likely), but hey. *g*
Chibi Noin - I'm extremely flattered that you took the time to review - I know exactly what having a lot of homework feels like. It's nice to hear that you enjoyed this, and thanks again for the review!
Sadie Elfgirl - Maybe I should have said "too few _prominent_ villains". You know, everybody expects that the 'heroes' kill at least one of the main bad guys each, and that is beginning to get tricky, trust me. *g* I am sorry to say this though, but this won't be very bloody. It's not so much about the torture this time, at least I keep telling myself that. *g* And the torture ban covers the twins too, but only because they won't be doing anything in the near future, I fear. If they were, I wouldn't hesitate to give them a few battle wound of their own. And if you want a psychiatrist, I can give you the names of about a dozen. They all stopped treating me after a session or two, I don't know why either. *shrugs* They're weird.
Elvendancer - Hmm, Lord Súliat's delegates? I don't really think they're very happy at the moment. In fact, I think they have started packing already and are preparing themselves to get out of the city as quickly as possible. They are clever, after all. *g*
LOTRFaith - Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure if I like Laenro or not. He's not the most tolerant of people, to put it that way... But his life has most definitely not been easy, you're right, and I also feel sorry for him. And you're very welcome to like Cendan. I love him myself, he's so ... adorable. I can't really think of a word to describe him. *g* I like the elf lord very angry too, and maybe we'll get the chance to see him angry too. I'm not sure yet, but I think so. Hmm, in my opinion Jack Sparrow was never truly bad. That's the problem about bad guys, if they're really bad, they will most likely not change either. *g*
Crippled Raven - *blinks at angry rant* I can only imagine what that feels like. We don't have sets here, we're all getting the smae lessons till twelfth grade, then you can chose your two main subjects for the last two years. I was never good at Maths, and I dropped in in twelfth grade. I never regretted it. *g* But I'm sure they wouldn't have put you there if you were a totally hopeless case, would they? *soothingly* See. LOL, I agree, Glamir should get out more. He would most likely try to torture his dates, though, so maybe it's better if he doesn't. *g* I really hope your mood's improved somewhat; there's some Glorfindel torture here just for you!!
Yuuki Ryuu - Delirious, huh? Well, that just might work, but I doubt it will happen, sorry. And I don't really think that Celylith is comfortable enough around the great "hero" Glorfindel to tell him bedtime stories. *thinks* Hmm, maybe he is, I'll think about it. As I said in the A/N, you know Súliat already, but I will most likely write another story. Not right after this one though, I really need a break. *g* Thanks a lot for the review!
Galadhriel Vornionien - Hmm, whom did you want tortured, then? The twins? That's not really very nice, they're quite beat up at the moment. I won't get into the whole "Legolas - Sinda or Silvan elf?"-thing, but he most definitely has little or no Noldorin blood. If you meant Glorfindel, just read on, even though it's not really clear whether he was Vanya or Noldo after all. I know, I know, Gondolin was a Noldorin city with a very Noldorin king, but the hair colour is a rather obvious sign for Vanyarin parents. *shrugs* We'll never know, will we? I hope you managed to wait without suffering from any ill effects though! *g*
Bookworm, .303 - LOL, yes, the twins are safe - or safeish. *g* I admit that the chances of Ethoani surviving this whole thing unscathed are virtually nonexistent, and her chances of survival aren't much better either. *g* Sorry.
Marbienl - Hmm, I do think we're a little different. I, for example, are not totally obsessed with Estel pain and torture. Don't try to deny it, you are. *g* It was Jack's idea with the spikes, but neither she nor I have seen Hildalgo. It's a movie about a HORSE, for Christ's sake! *shakes head* I don't really like horses. And I have a few ideas for a few other stories, even though I usually don't plan things like that. They just ... well, happen when I write those scenes. *blinks* No, I don't eat Snickers that way. I don't really eat may chocolate bars; they're too sweet for my taste. So it's July 13th, huh? Okay, I'll remember that, and start posting the story then. It will most likely be before I start the new big one, so I should have plenty of time for a few chapters. Oh, and about Girion: He would have loved to kill the councilman, but he couldn't since he was from a very influential family. No one can rule without some support, and, unfortunately, Girion is no fool. And I'm sure that Glorfindel knows that Celylith knows who he is talking about. He didn't really try to hide it, did he? *g*
Iccle Fairy - LOL, the urge to speak like Yoda happens to all of us I think. Amusing it is, hm? *g* I am afraid that Legolas' priorities are not exactly rescuing Ethoani. I really think he's more interested in what happens to Glorfindel and Celylith - which is rather understandable, really. In the end, they're his friends and she is, more or less, a stranger. That's the way things always are. *g*
Aratfeniel - Not only you, my friend. All of us have a twisted mind, otherwise we wouldn't be reading or writing this kind of story. *g* I think it's fun too, which really is all the proof you need. *g* Thanks for all your reviews!
CrazyLOTRfan - Indeed, Aragorn is NOT dead. Lucky him. *g* And I have no idea whatsoever why they didn't ask you. Then again, it might be connected to the fact that you love seeing them in pain - what do you think? LOL, yes, what could be wrong in Girion's life? I think he should start with declaring a general amnesty and getting himself a girlfriend. *shrugs* That's just my opinion. *g* You're worried about the other drivers, really? You know, that reminds me of when I got my license. I had just got it a few days ago and wanted to drive my sister and our dog somewhere in my mother's car, and all my mother said was: "If something happens to the car or the dog, I'll kill you." Really, one would think she'd be worried about her two beloved daughters? *shakes head* Mothers.
Shauna - *very, very evil grin* So killing Ethoani isn't part of the plot? Really? What makes you say that? I would be really interested to hear your reasons... *g* Cendan, however, will definitely come in handy. He's very useful, really. *pats his head* I hope you'll be able to read this chapter without too much trouble!
Crystal-Rose15 - 28 days (or now 21) sound very nice indeed. I have more than two months left, so I won't even start counting. *g* *blinks* *gets evil idea* You're right, I COULD kill Celylith. Would be nice and angsty, and really interesting since... *trails off and ducks heavy objects* Don't worry, I'm just kidding. I'm not planning to kill him anytime soon, even though it would be a truly interesting idea. It's nice to hear that you liked SP, even though I can't tell you the word. It would ruin everything, besides, I don't know what it is myself. They refused to tell me, I have no idea why. *g* Don't worry btw, I enjoyed your rambling. Very ... fun. *g*
Nietta - LOL, they'll get THE necklace? Well, that's an ... interesting idea... And of course Estel's number would be 13. What else? *g* So you want to bet Girion £100 that Legolas will kill Teonvan? I would strangly recommend you reconsider, really. Right now I am really thinking about letting someone else kill him. Just a friendly warning; £100 are a lot of money. *g* You might have to wait a bit for the second reunion, sorry. Elladan isn't very inclined to wake up at the moment, stubborn twin that he is. *g* Typical.
Joshua Nenya - Pff, ich kann dir endlich mal antworten! Ich hatte schon angefangen zu ueberlegen, ob ich dir eine Dankmail fuer die schoenen Reviews schicken soll, aber das kam mir dann schon ein wenig opportunistisch vor. *g* Also: Danke! *knuddelt* Es ist sehr schoen zu hoeren, dass du meine verrueckten Erguesse bis jetzt mochtest, und es freut mich, dass ich dich ein wenig vom Abistress ablenken konnte. Vor meinen Klausuren habe ich ALLES getan, um nicht lernen zu muesse, ich habe sogar die Fenster in meinem Zimmer geputzt. Das erste und einzige Mal, uebrigens. *g* *rot werd* Vielen Dank fuer all die netten Komplimente. Ich hoffe, ich habe dir nicht wirklich schlaflose Naechte bereitet? Wuerd' ich mich ja glatt schaemen... Und keine Angst: Zukuenftige Reviews werden mit Spannung und Freude erwartet. Nach Zams kann einen nichts mehr schrecken! *g* Noch einmal vielen Dank fuer deine Reviews!
Snow-Glory - Well, the name is actually Oswald Spalding. Please don't ask me from where Zam got that idea; we're probably better off not knowing. *g* I don't really think Rashwe will play an important role yet, sorry. He might have a small scene yet, I'm not sure, but I doubt it will be something like in THOM. Would be boring twice in a row, wouldn't it? Oh, I don't hate hearing that people like Cendan, really. Apart from the fact that I like him too, I would hate to hear that my characters are so one-dimensional that you can only hate or like them. *thinks* Well, Teonvan excluded. He really IS evil. And sick and all that. *g*
Grumpy - Oh, don't worry, the nasty people will be stopped - just not right now. *g* It's very nice to hear that some people actually do things like Glorfindel. He really called all of them Sam? Well, that's ... interesting. *g*
Kathleen LaCorneille - *pats her back* The new chapter's here, don't worry ... everything will be fine, please don't die. I would really hate to kill a reviewer like that... *g* So you don't want Glorfindel to get hurt, huh? Well, it's a little late for that, I'm afraid, but I won't hurt him too seriously, don't worry. I love him, after all, and I can't kill him since they need him in FotR. And you don't like my evil characters? I'm hurt. I have no idea why - they're so ... well, adorable? *shakes head* Well, maybe not, but I still like them. Thanks a lot for your review!
Lina - I had nothing to do with that! Zam must have stolen the ox somehow! *runs over to closet and pulls open the door* No! It's really gone! ZAM!!!! *calms down slightly* Sorry, but I did NOT give Oswald Spalding to Zam. I may be evil, but I'm not completely insane. *g* I am, however, very glad to see you again! *huggles* I really missed you! Another thing I had missed was that Oswald Spalding could talk. *frowns* Reminds me of Shrek, somehow... *g* *sighs tiredly as Lina frees her plot devices* Tell me again why I missed you? Éomer: Because you're just as mas as she is? ROHIRRIM!! Ah yes. That was it. *g*
Jazmin3 Firewing - LOL, a whip or a wooden spoon? I won't even ask - but I think I coincidently really used one of the two. Call it karma. *g* And Maths always tended to awaken my bloodthirsty streak, so I know exactly of what you speak. Most of the times I really, REALLY wanted to kill my teacher - or at least harm him severely. *g* Oh, and PS, this wasn't a cliffy. Not a real one, anyway. It was a Cliffy Lite© maybe, but nothing worse. *g*
Amelie - *wide eyes* Hook ... disfigured ... are you sure you're alright? This is a little bit weird, even for you... *g* And I didn't even know that one can react allergic to perfume. It sounds thoroughly unpleasant, though. Poor you. *huggles* LOL, you really want to do that to me if I kill Celylith? Don't you think that would be a little ... I don't know, extreme or something like that? *g* Probably not, you're right. So don't worry, I'm not planning to kill him this fic. I might maim him and scar him for life, however. *evil grin* Thank you so much for saying that my writing is improving - I would be horrified if it didn't, btw - and it's also nice to hear that someone likes my sense of humour. It can be quite weird from time to time. And I would love to see one of them throw a smoke bomb. It would be an interesting sight. Freaky, but interesting. *g* I haven't read that story, or at least not really. I think I started it some time, and didn't really like it somehow. Don't ask me why, I just stopped reading. I might go back and take another look at it now, perhaps it has ... changed. *g* Thanks a lot for the huge review! *huggles*
Jera - I might do an ox-Elrohir-Celylith scene in the end, perhaps something about Elrohir catching Celylith who is trying to take the ox back to Mirkwood. *shrugs* I'll think about it. Just one little note: I think you are quoting some lines, only they don't appear in the review. So I have no idea what you're talking about most of the time - I'm just guessing. For example the "other than"-thing (thanks for pointing that out, btw): I have no idea where I used that phrase. Sorry. *g* *blushes* I am so glad you like my OCs. I'm always quite nervous when I first introduce them, especially when they're female. I don't really know why either. *shrugs* LOL, but I agree. Legolas should try a little 'rest', weird as it may seem to him. It just might help, you can never know. *g* You feel sorry for Girion? Really? That's great! So there is one person except myself who likes him! I have no idea why no one else does, really... And that story about the Romanian colonel reminds me of the Russian grand dukes working as taxi drivers in the years after 1917. Far too many of them. *g* I have weird associations, I know. Happens all the time to me. That quote really fits Sangwar btw, but you're right, "vir callidus" might be an exaggeration. I think "vir callidus" would be more appropriate. *g* You are either thinking just like the evil guys or I am becoming really predictable. But perhaps you're right and it's the obvious thing to do. Hmm, why shouldn't they let me in? First: because I'm a freak. And the thing is, I am not studying to get a Bachelor or a Master, we have a different system. But I think I'll go and ask one of my tutors, who is the only person here who _could_ know how it works. I can only study abroad in half a year anyway; you have to study the first two years here or you won't get a scholarship. *shrugs* That's the thing that really bugs me, all that paperwork. *shudders* I hate paperwork. *snorts* You won't try me to convert me to the glories of Sean Bean? Well, thank you! You know, that whole sentence is a huge paradox, just like "Sean Bean fan" if you ask me... *g* To be honest, I never pictured Legolas at all. I always found him rather irritating (at least in the book, even though he's not my favourite in the movies either), and was far too busy drooling over Aragorn and Éomer. *shrugs* I've always liked those two. And, last but not least, I am extremely flattered that you're trying to figure out a way to get back to the net quicker. It's slightly frightening, but also very flattering. *g* Once again, thanks for the huge review! *huggles*

Thank you for all the great reviews! I don't really know what else to say, so: Group Hug! *huggles reviewers*