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.

30. Fortune Favours the Bold

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

sniffles Thanks for all the stars. I still can't upload any, but I aprreciate it nonetheless. I really miss my stars, and I am beginning to suspect that this is just another one of FF.net's attempts to make me lose my mind. The most frightening thing is that they're succeeding, of course - then again, I wasn't exactly what one would call "sane" before all this either... trails off Whatever. I am sure that this bloody website hates me though. It's rather disconcerting now that I think about it. g

Glad you liked Celylith's bet, btw. The poor, stupid, reckless wood-elf needs something to take his mind off what's happening around him, and what could be better than a small bet? But you are also right, he might need professional help. About 80 % of Mirkwood's warriors are in the process of developing a serious gambling problem, I think... Poor Thranduil, really. Then again, he has other problems at the moment, hasn't he? evil grin

Oh, and about the date (you'll see what I mean): It was a coincidence, really. I hadn't thought that the whole story would take so long, but it surprised me, once again. You can check it though: This whole story started on the 6th of February, you can get that from counting backwards to the end of THOM, which ended on the 31st of December. And, using a set of probably highly irrevelant calculations, I came to the conclusion that the year 2954 of the Third Age was no leap year and February had therefore 28 days as usual. I'm insane, I know.


Okay, enough of that. Here is the next chapter, and, as the title already suggests, things are starting to get interesting! Yay! grins evilly So, what do we have ... a little conversation between rather agitated siblings, another conversation between the reckless ranger and the stubborn elf, we see Girion again who isn't exactly happy at the moment, find out what Legolas' idea of a joke is and Glorfindel and Cendan make a brief appearance. Oh yes, and there's a little cliffy, of course. Come on, I hadn't had one for AGES, my alter ego was beginning to get antsy. It's not my fault, really. g

Have fun and review, please!

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Chapter 30


"Absolutely not."

"Elrohir, be reasonable."

"Coming from you, this is one of the most ironic things I have ever heard, Legolas."

"There is no reason to become sarcastic, brother."

"'No reason to become sarcastic', Estel? I have ample reason to become sarcastic!"

"Brother…"

"Don't 'brother' me, Estel! What do you expect from me, that I sit back and smile while you allow yourselves to be killed by that maniac and his guards?"

Aragorn raised his eyes to the wooden beams that formed the room's ceiling and suppressed a tired sigh. How Elrohir could be so stubborn and headstrong so shortly after having woken up was beyond him. It must have to do something with him being their father's son.

"Listen to me for a second, Elrohir," he began as calmly as he could. "I know how you feel, but there is truly no other way. I have thought long and hard about it, and have tried to find another solution. There is none, brother. None at all. This is the only chance we'll get to free Celylith and Glorfindel. If we don't take it, they will die, and Girion will march out to conquer the North. If he succeeds or not is of no importance. Thousands of people will die, no matter if he wins or not."

"So you thought you would volunteer to be the first two victims?" Elrohir seethed; Aragorn's attempts to calm him down didn't appear to to be working very well. "Whose idea was this? Please, tell me! Long have I longed to know which of you it is that drags the other down into certain doom with him!"

Aragorn and Legolas traded a quick look, a hint of amusement in their eyes. They had both known that the twin would react rather … indignantly, but neither had thought that Elrohir was well enough to make quite such a fuss.
"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Aragorn finally said. "It is the only way."

"Absolutely not," Elrohir repeated, grey eyes flashing dangerously under the white bandage that wound around his head. "I refuse to agree to this."

"Elrohir…" Legolas began, his eyes frightixed on something to the younger twin's right.

"No, Legolas. This is foolishness! Am I the only person capable of seeing this?"

"Brother…" Aragorn said as well, a strange undertone in his voice.

"Estel, do you really expect me to let you go on this suicidal mission? There has to be another way, and the mere idea that I stay here and let you go alone is…"

"Elrohir!!" both the man and the elf exclaimed together. "Would you please let me finish?" Aragorn added. "Stop ranting, do me a favour and turn your head."

The younger twin grumbled under his breath and slowly turned his head to the right, wincing when the small movement aggravated his already splitting headache. A moment later his eyes grew wide, and not even the smug grins on his human brother's and Legolas' face could dim the joy that welled up inside of him. He opened his mouth to say something, but absolutely nothing came to his mind as he looked into the tired, pain-filled but undoubtedly awake and aware eyes of his twin.

A small smile spread over Elladan's face and his eyes twinkled faintly, a mere echo of his usual mischievousness.
"I … leave you alone for … five seconds and the … two of you promptly start arguing."

With an effort, Elrohir pushed back the enormous relief that filled every single part of his body and raised an eyebrow in a rather good imitation of their father.
"Decided to join us, did you?"

"You know me," Elladan smiled softly, knowing perfectly well how Elrohir felt. "I like it to make a grand entrance."

A brilliant smile spread over the younger twin's face and he looked rather inclined to try and get out of his bed in order to get over to his brother's side, something that was only prevented by Aragorn's hand on his arm and his accompanying glare.
"Typical," Elrohir told his twin in a disapproving tone of voice. "You leave us to worry about everything and sleep for one and a half days. You're like a sloth, did you know that?"

Elladan opened his mouth to say something, but before he had even said a word, he was interrupted by two things: Aragorn got up and walked around his bed, offering him a glass of water that seemed to hold much more appeal than talking, and Legolas started snickering loudly, something that threatened to develop into a full-blown hysterical fit in a matter of moments.

"What?" Elrohir asked in confusion. "What did I say?"

"Nothing," Aragorn glared at the laughing wood-elf. "Nothing at all. Legolas' sense of humour is in dire need of improvement, that's all."

Legolas ignored the man's words completely and did his best to regain his composure, still fighting off waves of mad giggling. He took a deep breath and looked at the confused twin, his eyes wide and almost desperate as he sought to control himself.
"Did you … did you call him a sloth?"

"Yes – so?"

"Oh, nothing," Legolas grinned so broadly that Aragorn was beginning to suspect that there had been a frog among his ancestors. The man was just imagining what King Thranduil would do to him if he ever found out that he suspected him of amphibian heritage when his attention was redirected to his elven friend, who was leaning forward in his armchair and looking at the bemused Elrohir with an evil twinkle in his eyes. "It is just that the word reminded me of something that happened close to Dale a few months ago, and…"

"And we really don't have time to discuss this subject now," Aragorn interrupted him, reaching out with his free hand and closing it around the elf's arm. He didn't even want to imagine what would happen if Legolas told his brothers about the whole sloth-or-bear-business. He shuddered inwardly. He would never hear the end of it, he was sure about it. The three of them would drive him insane with that accursed song – if he was lucky, that was.

Legolas raised an amused, mischievous eyebrow, but Aragorn didn't give him the opportunity to speak. He wasn't totally stupid after all.

"How do you feel, brother?" he asked Elladan, turning back to the older twin who had been listening to the exchange with a smile on his lips. "Do you need something against the pain? Do you want some more water? Do you…"

"Well, no and no, Estel," Elladan said wryly and exchanged a look with his brother. He turned serious almost instantly and reached out for his human brother's hand with one of his own, looking at the white bandage that was wrapped around his wrist in puzzlement. "Don't you ever do this again, Estel. If you ever scare us like this again, I will personally hand you over to that insane healer of Legolas'."

Legolas was about to point out that Hithrawyn wasn't his healer – strictly speaking, he was his father's – but quickly thought better of it. He really didn't want to interrupt the small family reunion with pointless remarks. Aragorn, however, even might have appreciated his interference, since he didn't look happy at all and did his utmost best to avoid the dark haired elf's eyes.

"I am sorry for causing you grief, Elladan."

"Grief?" Elrohir echoed unbelievingly for his twin. "We are long past grief, little brother! You scared us half to death and back!"

"I am sorry about that," the man inclined his head and looked at his elven brothers apologetically, but with a steely sparkle in his eyes. "I really am, you know that. But I would do it again."

"Of course you would," Elladan muttered tiredly and gave the hand he held a small squeeze. "That's one reason why we love you, little brother – your reckless, foolish idiocy."

"Thank you very much," Aragorn said wryly and squeezed back carefully. "And I thought it was my charming personality."

"Hardly," Elladan smiled. He tried to sit up and to roll over onto his back, only to freeze abruptly as pain flared to life in his up until now rather comfortably numb back. He couldn't hold back the small moan of pain that escaped his lips, and after a very brief moment in which he looked as if he wanted to shake off the young ranger's hands he allowed himself to be pressed back down onto the mattress.

"Take it slow," Aragorn told him softly. "Your back doesn't look good at all. It will need quite a lot of time to heal, so try not to move too much. Or," he added dryly, "let's make that try not to move at all."

"With which we are back at the beginning," Elrohir interjected sourly, wrenching his eyes away from his older brother's ashen face. "I won't let you do it, Estel. Neither of you."

"Do … what?" Elladan inquired between gritted teeth.

Elrohir ignored Legolas' and Aragorn's pleading looks and returned his gaze to his twin, indignation and fear on his face.
"They want us to stay here while they go off on an insane mission to free Celylith and Glorfindel and to kill Girion."

"Absolutely not," Elladan unknowingly echoed Elrohir's earlier words and raised his head from the mattress, looking slightly over his shoulder to fix steely grey eyes on his human brother and fair haired friend.

"Elladan, you are in no condition to go anywhere," Legolas reminded the slightly older elf gently. "Your back is covered with welts, and you will need at least two days to recover your strength that has been depleted by the fever. And you," he nodded into Elrohir's direction, "couldn't walk more than ten paces on that leg of yours, and your head would probably explode after two."

"Leg?" Elladan repeated suspiciously. "What about your leg? Did Glamir continue with you? Did he hurt you? Did he…"

"No," Elrohir quickly tried to calm his brother. "He didn't. I had a little … accident during our escape."

To his left, the elven prince grinned and lowered his head, muttering something that sounded quite a lot like "ox", and Elrohir shot him a dark look that promised horrible consequences should he dare tell Elladan about his little encounter with the less-than-friendly bovine.

"What about the Easterlings?" Elladan asked, apparently having missed the silent exchange between his brother and friend. "There had to be thousands in that camp outside the city, and…"

"Yes," Aragorn nodded and carefully pressed the elf back down, "We know. We saw them when we arrived here. It will be alright, brother, trust me."

Even despite the pain and weakness in his body, Elladan smiled slightly.
"Your interpretation of the term 'alright' leaves a lot to be desired, Estel. As does yours by the way, Legolas."

"I hear that a lot lately," the man shrugged indifferently. Noticing the twins' dark looks, he sighed deeply and lowered his head a little. "Please, there really is no other way. I do not like this any more than you do, believe me, but there is nothing else we can do. We either do this our way, or we will all die."

"Your way," Elrohir muttered softly. "Oh joy."

"I agree," Elladan nodded curtly, once again trying to sit up to look at Aragorn and Legolas who apparently couldn't make up his mind about whether he should be amused or annoyed. "I have not even the slightest idea what is going on here, but to let the two of you do anything 'your way' is a guarantee for disaster, that is something I've learned a long time ago."

"You wound me," Legolas retorted, having obviously decided that it was a lot more productive to take this entire exchange humorously. "My plans always work. Maybe not exactly the way I had in mind, but in the end I achieve my objectives. Usually."

"'Usually', that's exactly the word that worries me," Elrohir told him darkly, garnering a hearty nod of support from his elven brother who was just being pressed back down by the ranger.

Aragorn shook his head in exasperation, his hands beginning to twitch slightly with impatience. Why oh why couldn't the two of them be reasonable, at least for once? If they went on like this, he would drug both of them. Oh yes, that was exactly what he would do.

"You know that we speak the truth," he began as calmly as he could. "You can protest all you want, but you know that we cannot just stay here and allow these people to do with our friends as they please. Please," he said earnestly, looking at his brothers with huge, pleading silver eyes that had yet to fail to sway the twins, "please stay here where you are safe. I cannot go out there, knowing that your lives are in danger as well. We will be back with Glorfindel and Celylith before the sun has set, I promise."

"For once, I agree with your brother," Legolas nodded next to him, his eyes fixed on his friends. "You cannot help us, no matter how much you wish to. Stay here and regain your strength, that is all you can do at the moment."

The twins exchanged a dark look, and Elrohir lifted his chin, apparently prepared to make a last attempt to change the two friends' minds.
"You are not well either; neither of you is. What can you two do in your condition?"

Aragorn fixed his eyes on his elven brother, his gaze quickly darting to Elladan and back to Elrohir again, a look on his face that very clearly said "Not now". He didn't want to agitate his oldest brother even more, who would undoubtedly start fretting over Legolas and him the second he heard that they had other injuries than the rather obvious bruises and cuts on their faces. Elladan needed to rest, and if he worried about them more than he already did, he wouldn't go to sleep for hours.

Elrohir seemed to understand what Aragorn wished to tell him, and gave the human an almost imperceptible nod that Elladan missed completely. The older twin was very busy fighting both the pain in his body and the urge to return to sleep, and had neither the time nor the strength to give his surroundings more attention than absolutely necessary.

"Alright," Elrohir finally conceded with a small, dejected sigh that somehow managed to increase his pounding headache. "Alright. Go and get yourselves killed if you wish, but don't expect us to give ada or King Thranduil the bad news."

Elladan's eyes that had closed almost on their own account were opened in a flash, and incredulous and angry grey eyes fixed on the younger twin's pale, bruised face.
"Elrohir?"

"They are right, brother," Elrohir sighed and carefully turned his head to look at his indignant brother. "You will go nowhere in the next few days and, no matter how loath I am to admit it, neither will I. We would be more of a burden than an asset."

"You are not a burden," Aragorn shook his head firmly. "You came to our rescue, no matter what. What else could we want?"

"That we had succeeded and not walked right into the trap that insane man had laid?" Elladan asked tiredly. "That we hadn't allowed ourselves to be captured? That we had been of any real help at all?"
"There was no way you could have known," Legolas said reasonably. "Girion may be as mad as Eöl on a bad day, but he isn't stupid. None of you could have known he was behind this."

"You are right," Elrohir nodded ironically, a dark, guilty sparkle in his eyes. "We would have needed to really take a look at our surroundings and actually think to find that one out."

Aragorn shook his head, inwardly deciding that, no matter what Legolas said, he just couldn't be as bad as the twins in this regard. He never blamed himself like this – did he?
"Elrohir," he began gently. "You know Legolas is right. There…"

He was interrupted in mid-sentence by a hasty knock on the door, and both he and Legolas turned around just in time to see Laenro poke his head through the door he had opened without waiting to be invited. Aragorn blinked quickly, trying to hide the mild shock that stabbed through him. The brown haired man looked about ten years older than he had two days ago, his face covered with stubble and with dark rings under his red-rimmed eyes. It was clear that he had worked a lot and slept little, and the panicked sparkle that spoke of his fear for his sister's life had grown even brighter.

Laenro was either unaware of the way he was being scrutinised or he simply did not care, and he gave the two elven twins only the briefest of looks before he redirected his attention to Legolas and Aragorn.
"It is time," he said gruffly. "Cendan's second-in-command will be here in a few minutes. If we want to get in position without attracting any attention, we have to leave now."

Legolas gave the man a small nod and something that was probably meant to be a reassuring smile.
"We'll be there in a moment."

Laenro gave the ranger and the two dark haired elves that surveyed him with quiet intensity a last look and produced a low sound in the back of his throat that could have meant anything from annoyance to agreement to disgust, and a moment later his head disappeared and he walked back into the direction of the staircase.

Elrohir looked from his tired, slightly wide-eyed twin to Aragorn and Legolas who were in the process of getting up and collecting their neutral, dark coats Laenro had given them last evening. The dark haired elf ignored the pain that movement brought and arched an eyebrow.

"Please tell me he isn't the one you told me about, the leader of the men who will help you free them?"

Legolas smiled slightly as he fastened the cloak at his neck and ignored the way his side protested once again against quick movements.
"He is a … complicated man, I agree, but he's kept his word until now. He will do what he can to help us."

"Complicated?" Elladan echoed faintly. "Legolas, I have seen more sociable orcs with better manners! And trolls, too!"

"Now that you mention it, I would take an orc horde, too," Aragorn said, an expression of mock longing on his face. "They just might serve to distract the guards."

"And kill all of us in the process," Legolas interjected wryly. "No thank you, I think I will take my chances with Laenro and Cendan."

"I hope that is not a mistake," Elrohir said solemnly.

"So do I, my brother, so do I," Aragorn said in an equally serious tone of voice. He walked over to the door, pulled it open and motioned to Legolas to precede him. The fair haired elf disappeared out of the room with a last smile and a few reassuring words, and the man was about to follow him, only to stop on the threshold and turn back to his elven brothers.

"If we are not back this evening, try to get out of the city," he said insistently. "There are three horses in a stable five houses to the left of this one, and the owner will not ask any questions, or so Laenro has assured me. If we fail to return, take Thesieni, the healer, and leave. Please," he added, seeing the stubborn expressions on the two elves' faces, "Please, if we are not back at sunset, we won't be back at all. Don't allow them to kill all of us; father wouldn't be able to bear it."

Elrohir exchanged a quick look with his brother and finally nodded at the young ranger, a sad smile on his face.
"Go with the blessings of the Valar, Estel," he said softly. "Don't make us return to father with such news, I beg you."

"I will do my best," Aragorn nodded solemnly. "I promise."

With a last nod he was gone, and soon the sound of his footsteps faded in the distance, leaving the twins behind in dark, uncomfortable silence. A few moments later Elladan raised his head, his tired eyes fixed accusingly on Elrohir's face.
"This is all your fault."

"My fault?" the younger twin asked incredulously. "My fault?"

"Yes," Elladan nodded curtly. "You always read the Lay of Leithian to him when he was younger. I know I shouldn't say this about our own ancestors, but all this talk of sacrifice and noble deaths must have given him the wrong ideas."

"He asked me to read it, it wasn't as if I'd had any choice!" Elrohir protested, readily seizing this chance to take his mind off the current situation. "Don't even pretend that you could resist him when he looked at you with his lost-puppy-dog-eyes!"

"Coming from the person who agreed to pretend to be Wolf-Sauron for Estel's entire sixth birthday this is a rather feeble accusation, brother."

"Hmph," Elrohir simply made, sounding remarkably like Laenro for a moment. "I really think you are mixing up something, because…" He trailed of and sharply turned his head to look at his brother, pain flashing over his face at the quick movement. "His birthday!"

Elladan stared at his brother, wondering if the worry and stress were getting to his brother. Elrohir merely continued staring at him with a slightly appalled look on his face, and Elladan forced his tired and hurting brain to start working. What was Elrohir talking about, Estel's begetting day – or his birthday in human terms?

"His birthday what?" he finally asked tiredly.

"His birthday!" Elrohir repeated, and looked as if he would have liked to throw up his hands in exasperation. "The first of March is in two days!"

"Impossible," the older twin shook his head flatly. "We left Rivendell almost a month before his birthday, and…" He trailed off, a horrified expression on his face as he began to realise how long their journey had taken them. "By Elbereth, you are right!"

"Of course I am," Elrohir retorted smugly. "So what do we do? We don't have any presents, we have no honey-cakes, we have nothing! What do we do? We can't just ignore his twenty-third birthday! He would never forgive us!"

"You really want to think about what to give Estel for his birthday now?" Elladan asked incredulously.

"Do you have any other ideas?" Elrohir asked back. "You mustn't go back to sleep just now, not that you could sleep in the first place of course – and neither could I. We can either worry, or we can try to come up with a present."

Elladan quickly thought about it, and decided a second later that his brother was right, of course. They couldn't do anything than try to distract themselves, and this topic was just as welcome as any other. Besides, Aragorn would most likely really be aggrieved if they missed his birthday – young humans seemed to place a great deal of importance on such events.

"Alright," he said, trying not to go to sleep as his body so urgently wanted him to. "We could give him … your bow."

"My bow?" Elrohir asked flabbergasted. "Why my bow? Besides, I guess Girion has burnt it by now, curse him."

"Oh yes," Elladan agreed darkly, thinking of his own beloved weapons. "So, what about…"

They went on like this for quite some time, and finally Elladan decided that, no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, it never worked. Both Elrohir and he did their best to take their minds off their worry and fear, but in the end no light conversation could combat the dark, choking emotions that threatened to overwhelm them and to tear their hearts asunder, and their thoughts inevitably returned to their brother and friend and to the fact that there was nothing they could do to help them, nothing at all.



Legolas was beginning to accept one simple, rather obvious truth: He was insane.

If he wasn't insane, he was mad, and if he wasn't mad, he was at least suffering from delusions of grandeur. What in the name of Eru and all the Valar had he been thinking? He should have known that this wouldn't work, he should have known that he would get all of them killed. He should have stopped a moment to bring it to his attention that he wasn't one of the heroes of old; he wasn't like his grandfather or the High King Gil-galad, or even his father, Lord Elrond or Glorfindel. He was just a rather stupid elven prince, who had apparently thought that this could work somehow. Which it wouldn't.

Next of him, Aragorn seemed to think much the same, even though he was apparently too polite and well-mannered to tell him what he was thinking. Then again, Legolas reasoned, perhaps the man was suffering from delusions of grandeur, too. Maybe it was contagious, one could never be sure about such things.

The fair haired elf returned his attention to the large field in front of him, deciding in a split second that he had rarely seen so many humans at once, if not on the battlefield. To him the open area appeared huge, and right now every single square inch appeared to be covered with people. The two platforms Cendan had been talking about were still some hundred yards away from them to their right. It were two large wooden constructions that looked anything but inviting; the smaller one, where the execution was meant to take place, was still empty except for the gallows and a few guards, while the large one was already populated by quite a few soldiers, councillors and advisors. Whether or not Girion and Teonvan were among them, Legolas couldn't say with certainty from his viewpoint, even though he thought he had seen the brown haired captain's yellowish face, at least for a moment.

Legolas narrowed his eyes at the people filling the field as he followed Cendan's unnoticeable second-in-command who was being flanked left and right by Sero and Laenro. Yes, there were a lot of people here, but he would have been willing to bet that few were here voluntarily. There had been placards all over the city, announcing the upcoming execution and stating rather unambiguously that the city's just and beloved lord expected the people of his realm to attend.

There were remarkably few women and children present, something that surprised Legolas since he knew that most humans viewed things such as public executions as a sort of entertainment, something he had never been able to understands. Yet it appeared that the people of this town expected trouble, and that the women had stayed at home with their children. Even better, he thought to himself. This way there was both the hope that there would be fewer innocents that got hurt (something that, as he was well aware, was almost unavoidable) and that the men of this town would be more willing to take up whatever arms they could find and would help them get rid of Girion and his men. They needed all the help they could get, after all.

And there he was back at the beginning of his musings, he thought darkly. He hadn't thought that Girion had so many soldiers and guards under his command. There were hundreds lining the field and the two galleries, and even more poured out of the castle to their left. Legolas gave the dark grey, imposing fortress a quick look and shuddered almost imperceptibly. It was … evil, that was the only word for it, and the mere thought that Celylith was in a cell deep under that rock-like monstrosity was enough to make his blood run cold.

A hand closed around his arm and he looked up a little bit startled, right into Aragorn's sympathetic eyes. The man smiled at him and pulled him forward a little, moving a lot stiffer and less controlled than he usually did, and only then did Legolas notice that he had slowed his walk so far that he had almost stopped and was beginning to draw quite a bit attention.

With a quick move of his hand Legolas reached for the hood of his cloak and pulled it even further down, trying to conceal as much of his face as possible. There were quite a few guards among the people and scanning the crowd, no doubt searching for them, and the last thing Legolas wanted was to be recognised now. The only thing in their favour was the fact that it was such a dreary, cold day, as ironic as that might have been. The sky was as overcast as yesterday night and of a dark, steely-grey colour, and almost all men around them had pulled their hoods over their heads in an attempt to protect themselves from the cold wind and the sleet that had begun to fall.

The elf purposefully picked up his pace to catch up with Laenro and the others. The brown haired man's people were all around them, and Legolas knew that Laenro and Sero had stationed the rest of them in strategic spots all over the field in groups of five and more. Once they got the signal, they would attack whichever guard or soldier was closest to them, and considering the fact that there were more than two hundred of them, it would be only a matter of seconds before this whole field would be plunged into absolute chaos. The more reckless part of him grinned inwardly. It would be quite an interesting sight, that much was sure.

Next to him, Aragorn moved through the mass of people with only a fraction of his usual grace, inwardly wishing Teonvan into whatever dark pits there were in the afterlife. If that … man hadn't seen it fit to turn him into something closely resembling a pincushion, he would be able to walk properly now. The man shook his head slightly and returned his attention to the elf whose arm he had still grabbed, resolutely refusing to look into the direction of the castle. He could fully understand why Legolas had almost frozen when he had seen it again; he too had underestimated the effect the dark building would have on him.

"He's alright," he said so softly that only Legolas would be able to hear him. "I'm sure most of the guards will be here in order not to miss the spectacle. They will be much too busy to do anything now."

"Maybe," Legolas answered out of the corner of his mouth, keeping his voice low. "And maybe not. I don't see Glamir here; do you? I don't think he's here. He wouldn't want to watch something as … 'artless' as an execution."

Aragorn strained his eyes to survey the platform, cursing inwardly when he saw that his friend was right. Glamir wasn't here as far as he could see, and, as Legolas had said, it was unlikely that he would come at all. His attempt to put the elf's mind at ease had failed spectacularly.

Before he could say anything, Legolas gave him a small smile and inclined his head.
"But thank you for saying it. We'll find him."

"Of course we will," Aragorn nodded. "And if we have to turn the castle upside-down."

Legolas' smile widened a little and he was about to say something when the three men in front of them stopped and turned around, smiling broadly. Laenro took a step forward and slung an arm around Aragorn's shoulder in a comradely gesture, looking to any casual observer like someone who was having a small talk with a friend and an acquaintance.

"This is it," he said in a low voice, still smiling so brightly that he was beginning to look slightly demented in Aragorn's eyes. "We can accompany you no further, elf."

Legolas nodded curtly, but Aragorn turned around slightly to look at the other man, a smile on his face that was belied by the dark expression in his determined grey eyes. He nodded into the direction of Girion's podium that was still at least three hundred feet away.
"That is not what we had agreed on. The plan is to stay as close to him as possible."

"This is as close as possible," Menvan answered with a faint smile that was just as unremarkable as the rest of him. "There are more guards here than we originally thought, and if try to get closer to Girion's gallery, we will be caught for sure."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed and the false smile seemed to freeze on his features, but Legolas interrupted his friend before the man could say a single word.
"You are right," he nodded at Laenro. "This will have to do." He turned slightly and gave Menvan a smile, as if catching sight of him for the first time. "Cendan and the rest of your men are ready?"

"Yes," Menvan answered softly. "We tried to get as many of our people on today's duty roster as possible, so there are quite a lot of us here at the moment. The rest is either hidden among the crowd, positioned in the city and on the way to the castle, or waiting in the main courtyard. We need to eliminate as many officers as we can who are not on our side."

The fair haired elf nodded again.
"Did Cendan do what I bid him?"

For a moment, Menvan looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"I think so," he finally answered evasively. "He didn't have the chance to do it yesterday, since it would have been surely discovered. He told me he'd do it now, just before Girion got here. If he's here, he'll have succeeded. Look to the left of Girion's seat; it should be there."

"Well, if Cendan's not here, we'll all be in serious trouble," Aragorn said darkly.

"That, ranger," Menvan said softly, with a truly amused smile on his usually so guarded face, "just might be the understatement of the century."

"You inspire me with confidence, Menvan," the young ranger retorted sarcastically. "Now I feel a whole lot better. Thank you."

The other man gave him a bow that was apparently meant to imply that Aragorn was most welcome and, with a last nod at Legolas, he turned around and walked a few paces to the right before he stopped next to a group of very unhappy-looking farmers. Sero and Laenro gave the two friends a quick look and followed the soldier, either unwilling to let him out of their sight or in order to give the elf and the ranger the chance to have a few words in private. Considering how bad Laenro's mood was at the moment, Aragorn guessed the latter was the case.

He took his eyes off Laenro's retreating back and looked at the fair haired elf in front of him. Legolas' face was hidden by his hood, but Aragorn didn't need any light at all to see the small smile on the elf's lips.

"So," he finally said, looking straight at the blond prince with an unreadable expression on his face.

"So," Legolas repeated with a quite a bit of humour in his voice.

"Before you go," Aragorn went on, casting a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that the other three men hadn't moved too far away, "I really think I should stress that, no matter how much I may think it necessary, I think that all this is a very, very bad idea."

"You know, I am beginning to think that you might be right," Legolas retorted seriously. "But it is too late to change anything now. All we can do is hope that Cendan and his men are ready and that he has really managed to convince his uncle."

"In his message to Laenro he said he had."

"I don't trust the Easterlings," Legolas said curtly. "I don't trust them at all. And I don't trust Cendan. I will believe that they leave the moment I see it, not a second earlier."

"Well, we'll be the first to know if they don't," Aragorn shrugged, only half-joking.

"Indeed," Legolas smiled thinly. He reached out with a hand and carefully placed it on the man's shoulder, his eyes under his hood burning into Aragorn's. "Don't you dare get yourself killed, reckless human. I'll never forgive you if you do."

"I wanted to say the exact same thing," Aragorn said seriously. "Take care of yourself, my friend. And whatever you do, no matter how much you wish to distract Girion: Don't make him angry. I have the feeling that he won't be in the mood to put up with one of your I-am-an-elf-and-therefore-far-superior-to-you-speeches. The same will apply to Teonvan, I think."

"I do not give such speeches."

"Yes, you do," Aragorn smiled slightly and gave the increasingly impatient-looking Laenro a quick look. "May Elbereth watch over you, Legolas. You will need it."

"As will you, mellon nín," the elf said quietly and squeezed the ranger's shoulder as softly as he could. "Even though I fear that you will need all the Valar to watch over you."

"I wouldn't mind in the slightest," Aragorn nodded wryly. "I will see you at Girion's podium then, as soon as things start to … get interesting."

"I'll be there," Legolas nodded as well. "Don't keep me waiting, human."

"Funny," Aragorn said thoughtfully. "I wanted to say just the same."

The two of them shared a brief smile that faltered very quickly, and a serious, dark look began to spread over their faces. Without even thinking Aragorn grasped the elf's hand that was still lying on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, his silver eyes fixed on Legolas' blue ones. The two of them managed to convey many things without even saying a single word, and a moment later the man let go of the elf's hand and took a step back, pulling his hood deeper over his head.

"Go then," was all the ranger said, and with a last, slow nod at the elf he turned around and left, his cloaked figure quickly disappearing in the crowd.

Legolas watched his friend's back disappear between two burly men and finally turned around, feeling suddenly amazingly calm. He knew perfectly well that the chance that Aragorn and he would die (just like their friends, Cendan, Laenro and their men now that he thought about it) was quite a substantial one, but right now that didn't really seem to matter. They had done what they could and had taken every precaution they had been able to think of – which, admittedly, hadn't been too many – so there was really nothing he could change now. Apart from running away and hiding of course, which, attractive as it may be, was not an option.

With a small inward sigh Legolas began to make his way over to Girion's gallery, doing his best not to run into any people in the process, which was none too easy. When Cendan had said that there would be two-thirds of the town's population attending this particularly amusing event, he had thought the dark haired man was exaggerating. He should have known better, of course. Cendan wasn't the type to exaggerate, and right now he would have been ready and willing to swear that there were far more than two-thirds of the male population filling the field. He hadn't thought Baredlen had so many inhabitants in the first place.

The elf narrowly avoided a collision with one of the few women that were present, a large, stout woman who looked as if she wasn't afraid of anything and as if she was more than capable of defending herself against almost any man here. Legolas moved to the right in the last possible moment, nearly bumping into two sullen men in the process, and as he slowly continued to more or less push his way over to his goal, he decided that he loathed crowds he wasn't allowed to kill. He had nothing against crowds of orcs or things like these in general (unless they outnumbered him to four-to-one or more, of course), but to be part of a crowd of people whose only aim seemed to be to squash him to jelly was not a particularly amusing experience.

He moved to the side to walk around a large group of what looked like ill-tempered butchers (not necessarily a professional guild he had ever wanted to see in a bad mood), and felt like the anxiety in his heart increased. This was something they hadn't really taken into account, and if he didn't manage to get over to the gallery soon their entire oh-so-well-laid plan just might fail from the very beginning. If he didn't get there in the next few seconds, they might start with the execution before he had even got close to Girion. He couldn't see Glorfindel yet, but it wouldn't take them long now to bring him out.

Legolas shook his head once more, wincing inwardly as someone's elbow was thrust into his still healing ribs. Plan or no plan, if he didn't get out of this crowd soon, he would kill someone. He wasn't in a good mood to begin with, and if these humans here didn't stop trying to introduce him to various parts of their arms and shoulders, he would lose his temper and kill some of them, no matter what how much they needed their help.

Before it could come to that, the elf reached the gallery that rose in front of him like a large, wooden wall. He looked up at it, surveying the ascending ranks of benches and seats above the room-like space in the middle where Girion would be. There was room enough for at least two hundred people, and right now about half of it was filled with councilmen and high-ranking officers. There were guards everywhere, and Legolas found himself praying to the Valar that Cendan had spoken the truth and he had really as much support among the soldiers as he had claimed. If not, he wouldn't get out of this alive.

The men around him fell strangely silent, and Legolas redirected his gaze from the lines of the guards that surrounded the wooden construction to the dais that overlooked the field and the scaffold. He knew what he would see even before he had fully raised his head, and still resentment and hatred welled up inside of him when his eyes came to rest on Girion who stepped forward, clad in dark, sparsely embroidered robes.

The dark haired man placed his hands on the carved railing that surrounded his seat and studied the crowd, his face as emotionless and forbidding as ever. The people around Legolas had lowered their heads in an obvious attempt not to meet their lord's eyes, something which the elf could readily sympathise with. Girion looked more than ready to see some blood spilt today, an impression that was somehow only emphasised by the dark red colour of the heavy velvet that swayed softly in the light breeze.

While Legolas was still staring at the dark haired man, once again wondering just how it was possible that the descendant of a reasonably intelligent and sensible man didn't display any of his ancestor's characteristics, an excited murmur ran through the people on the field, and without looking up the elf knew what was happening behind him. He turned with the rest of the crowd, and when he saw what had caused such a stir he unconsciously clenched his jaw and hoped that Aragorn had learnt some measure of self-restraint in these past few years. And if that hadn't happened, he hoped that Laenro, Menvan and the others would manage to restrain the young ranger before he could do something stupid and rash.

Under usual circumstances he would have relished the chance of being able to admonish Aragorn for his recklessness and thoughtlessness (a somewhat hypocritical pastime, or so he'd been told), but right now he would have liked nothing better than to be allowed to kill Girion and his guards. And Glamir, he added as an afterthought. Yes, most definitely Glamir, too.

The elven prince's eyes remained fixed on the small group that was pushing its way through the crowds that parted willingly to let the men pass. He noted that they were walking and not using a cart, something that was just as common if not more so from what he'd heard. A small, wry voice inside his head noted that it was probably a good thing too, because he really didn't want to know what Glorfindel would have said if they had used an ox cart to bring him out of the castle. If he knew the elf lord at all, Glorfindel would be furious that some humans wanted to execute him like a common criminal when it had taken a balrog to kill him the first time, and he was sure it would be the last straw for him if the men added to that dishonour by using a cart.

Legolas avoided looking at the other elf's face as long as possible, but he just as well might have tried to contain water in a sieve. It was as if a cold hand had reached inside his chest and had begun to wrap itself around heart, and in a guilty moment he hoped fervently that Celylith was in a better shape than the golden haired elf the men were dragging into the direction of the wooden platform.

Glorfindel's shirt was gone and his torso was covered with welts, cuts, bruises and other injuries. The expression on his equally bruised face was one of scornful contempt, and he looked strangely disinterested, as if what was happening around him was of only the remotest interest to him. If there was something else in his eyes except overwhelming annoyance, it was hidden both by the blood that clung even to his face and the fact that one of his eyes had turned a remarkable shade of blue-black and had nearly swollen shut.

Legolas hadn't even realised that he had been standing as if frozen to the spot, staring at the blond elf like all the humans around him, but when the soldiers surrounding the other elf reached the platform with the gallows and began to pull him up the stairs, he returned to the present with a start. He was out of time, and if he waited much longer, it would be too late.

New determination pulsing through his heart, Legolas began to push his way through the crowd that was beginning to get agitated as the people tried to get closer to the anticipated spectacle. The mood was … strange, the elf realised as he made his way over to the stairs leading up to Girion's gallery. It was clear that most people didn't care overly much about what happened to the elf and if he was hanged or not, but he could sense nothing of the festive mood one often encountered during public executions. The inhabitants of this town seemed to have watched so many people die that they simply didn't care anymore, and all Legolas could sense from them was a kind of weary sadness.

All these thoughts trailed off abruptly when reached the line of soldiers surrounding Girion's gallery, and with a last, firm shove he pushed two men aside and came to a stop in front of two young, rather startled-looking guards. The fair haired elf stopped abruptly, wondering once again if he was imagining it or if human soldiers got younger by the century, and finally straightened his shoulders with an inward sigh.

Legolas took a deep breath, threw back his hood and gave the increasingly wide-eyed soldiers the brightest smile he could manage right now. In the moment the men's eyes widened even more and they reached for their weapons, the elf decided that, promise to Aragorn or not, he was entitled to a bit of fun as well, even if it was only a little.

"Excuse me," he began friendly, smiling even more brightly at the soldiers, one of whom was calling for reinforcements right now. "You do not happen to know where that mad, deranged warmonger is who insists on being the lord of this place, do you? I seem to have lost sight of him and his inferiority complex in the face of this joyous occasion."

The soldiers did not answer, and neither did their companions that came running up to them, but if the expressions on their faces were any indication at all, his attempt at humour wasn't overly appreciated, something that didn't really surprise Legolas if he was perfectly honest with himself.

The people of this city wouldn't recognise a joke if it came walking up to them and introduced itself by name and with a smile, after all.



There was something that was making him uneasy, even though he could truly not say what it was.

Girion unclenched his hands with a conscious effort and took a small step backwards, his eyes not leaving the wooden platform in front of him or the elf who was in the process of being dragged over to the gallows. Everything was going according to plan, after all, so there was no reason for him to worry – at least not yet. He had ordered Captain Teonvan to concentrate the main part of the soldiers here and not to send any of the guards on patrol today; they didn't want to scare off the dear prince and his friends, after all.

And no matter what the council thought (not that they had dared oppose him openly, of course), he was sure that the elf would show himself. He had always thought himself to be a fair judge of character, and if the Elvenking's son would allow one of his friends to be killed without trying something to heroically free him, he would personally eat this annoying dais that was fluttering in the breeze behind him.

Suddenly, while he was still thinking about that annoying elvish brat, he realised what was bothering him: Lord Súliat's delegates weren't here. He was rather sure that they had been invited to attend this particular event, and he was equally sure that the two envoys were intelligent enough to realise when an invitation was in reality an order.

Girion narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He didn't like this Sangwar or his younger companion, no, he didn't like them at all, but he also had to admit that they were among the shrewdest and most calculating envoys he had ever seen. Sangwar in particular had been a diplomat for so long that he appeared to sense political developments before they actually happened, and a small part of the dark haired man's mind whispered softly that it couldn't be a good sign that the two delegates weren't here.

They were most likely already packing and preparing to abandon the city as fast as they could, and if Girion hadn't been so sure that everything would go according to plan, he would even have understood it. The relationship with the Easterlings had deteriorated in the past few days with a speed he hadn't thought possible. He didn't know why, but the leader of the tribes living to the North had become highly … irrational, a term he would never have thought to apply to him. The olive-skinned man was probably the most rational of the Easterlings' chieftains, and this behaviour was highly unlike him. All of the sudden he didn't seem to be interested in money anymore, but had almost single-handedly broken the alliance between Girion and the tribes into pieces that may already be too small to be pierced together once more.

Girion growled inwardly, staring unseeingly over the crowd that filled the field. The tribes living to the North and close to the Sea had joined forces and had managed to antagonise the tribes to the East and West, and the smaller tribes had, for the most part, sided with them. It would take a minor miracle now to get them to work together, but it was something Girion was most ready to try to achieve – as soon as he had eliminated that annoying elven prince and his equally annoying companions and had…

"Sir?"

At the sound of the voice of one of his councillors the dark haired lord slowly turned around, a rather unhappy frown on his face. What in the name of the Gods did they want now; he had ordered them not to actually hang the elf for another five minutes, hadn't he?

"What?" he asked curtly. "I thought my orders had been clear."

"Yes, my lord," the man answered smoothly and bowed his head. "But there has been a … development I thought you would want to be informed about."

"Speak plainly, man!" Girion all but hissed, his dark mood only intensifying. "I have neither the time nor the patience for games like these!"

"He is here, my lord," the councilman added hurriedly in the face of his liege's wrath. "The elf prince. They are bringing him up here right now."

For a few moments, the dark-clad lord didn't say anything, a feeling of intense glee and satisfaction spreading inside of him. After a second he looked back at the other man, a satisfied, malicious smile on his face.
"He was captured?"

"Well," his advisor began carefully, inwardly asking himself just how he should describe the elf's behaviour. "Not exactly. From what I've heard, he simply … surrendered." Seeing the expression on his lord's face, he added quickly, "It appears that he walked up to two of the guards and … well, all but asked to be brought before you."

"Did he now," Girion muttered softly, turning back around to survey the other wooden platform and the people surrounding it. He could see nothing out of the ordinary, of course, but then again it would have been impossible to actually notice if anything had been wrong. There were far too many people here, and he was beginning to think that it just might have been a mistake to allow the general populace to attend the execution.

A moment later he turned back to the councilman, suppressing the feeling that something was seriously wrong here. This was too easy, far too easy, and if he'd learned one thing in the past, it was that everything that was too easy was too good to be true.
"Have him brought here," he nodded. "Now."

The councillor had just bowed and stepped to the side when footsteps could be heard on the wooden steps leading up to the upper level of the gallery, and a moment later a small troupe of people became visible that wore quite a lot of different expressions. The first two people who became visible were two guards clad in the black and grey livery of Girion's house, and the expressions on their faces could only be called confused to the extreme. More soldiers followed after them, who appeared to be equally surprised, even though some also seemed to be slightly suspicious.

In the centre of the small group were two people, who both appeared anything but surprised. One of them was Captain Teonvan who had grabbed the other by the arm, from the looks of it with rather a lot more force than necessary. The man appeared almost overwhelmed by his good fortune, and a gleeful, almost anticipatory gleam could be seen in his eyes. The only thing that could be seen on the second person's face was loathing, and if it bothered the elf to be in the hands of a man who wanted to kill him slowly and painfully he did most certainly not show it.

Girion leaned back against the railing and waited for the guards and the elf to come closer. The feeling that something wasn't right grew stronger, but it was quickly buried under a powerful wave of satisfaction, glee and hatred. It was hard to believe that this one elf and his companions had managed to give him so much trouble – but he had done just that, the man reminded himself quickly. He wouldn't underestimate him again, and he would make sure the dear prince told him where his friends were before he allowed Teonvan to kill him.

The men had fully ascended the stairs, and Teonvan jerked the bound elf forward, something that the fair haired being only commented with an annoyed roll of his eyes. Girion had no time to get angry about the elf's behaviour for the two of them reached him only a second later. Teonvan bowed his head in respect, something that was of course not mirrored by his elven prisoner.
"My lord."

"Captain," Girion said evenly, but with a pleased undertone that was plain to hear. "It is good to see that, for once, my orders were followed."

Teonvan raised his head again and said something, but Legolas had lost all interest in the conversation and hardly heard his words. He was very busy scanning his surroundings, and saw to his relief that it was all as he had pictured it. Well, apart from one little thing: Cendan was nowhere to be seen. The elf frowned inwardly. He knew it had been a mistake to trust that man. If he didn't appear here soon, their plan would fail and he and all his friends would surely die…

A blow to his cheek that nearly threw him to the floor ripped him out of his reverie, and Legolas suppressed a half-angry and half-pained hiss and redirected his attention to the men standing in front of him. Teonvan whose hand was still raised from the blow he had just dealt looked about as happy as child who had just found out that its fondest wish had come true, while Girion appeared calm and composed – an impressing that was destroyed by the dark, angry sparkle in his already very dark eyes. Legolas sighed inwardly. That was the second promise to Aragorn he had broken today: It appeared that he had already managed to make Girion angry without even saying a single word.

Teonvan stared at the dispassionate elf, a curious mixture of joy and anger filling him. He still couldn't believe that his lord's plan had actually worked and that the elf had been all but dropped into his lap, but he wasn't about to question a gift from the Gods themselves. He would make this infuriating creature pay for all the insults he had had to endure from him, and as soon as he had told them where his companions were (and tell them he would, he had no doubts whatsoever about it), he would continue with his little ranger friend. Yes, that was something he was very much looking forward to.

"The Lord Girion asked you a question, elf," he hissed at the fair haired being on whose face the red impression of a hand could be seen clearly now. "Answer him!"

"Now, now, Captain, show our guest a little more respect," Girion advised his subordinate sarcastically. "You are addressing the heir to the throne of Mirkwood, after all." He took a step closer to the emotionless elf who was being held firmly by the dark haired captain. "Is this not so – Prince Legolas?"

Legolas returned the man's searching gaze evenly, once again thanking the Valar that the old Lord of Dale was dead and didn't have to witness his descendant's madness. It would have broken King Girion's heart, he was sure about it.
"And if it were so?"

"Then, your Highness," Girion said mockingly, "I would be very displeased that you withheld that little piece of information from me. Not introducing yourself to your hosts is considered extremely rude in these parts." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why did you not tell me who you are? Things would have turned out quite a bit … different."

Legolas raised an eyebrow and would almost have asked the obvious thing, namely how stupid the man thought him to be, but then he remembered Aragorn's words. The ranger was right, it would serve no one's purpose if he got himself killed right here and now. He needed to stall until Cendan got here – maybe he had simply got delayed. He knew from experience how hard it was to get anywhere here with the masses of people crowding the field.

"You did not ask," he finally said curtly as if became clear that Girion was waiting for an answer.

Teonvan's hand around his arm clamped down even harder, so hard in fact that Legolas was rather sure that his upper arm would soon splinter like a twig if he kept up that kind of pressure, and a small growl escaped the man's throat. It was clear that, no matter what he said, Teonvan would see it as an insult, even if the words weren't even directed at him. The elven prince shrugged inwardly. The man was mad after all, one could hardly expect reasonable behaviour from him.

Girion, however, did not seem to be overly displeased, because he only began to grin, even though it was a grin that sent cold shivers down the elf's spine. If Teonvan was mad, then his lord was so far gone that someone had to invent a new word to describe his state of mind.

"How right you are," Girion said friendly and nodded at the elf. "I did indeed not ask. But now I do." His grin widened a little and the dark undertones became even more threatening. "What, your Highness, do you think your royal father would say if I sent him …. let's say … a couple of your fingers with a letter politely asking him to remain in that wood of his? That would still leave us with enough limbs in case he needed to be … persuaded some more, don't you think?" When the elf didn't answer, Girion took another step closer, his eyes boring into Legolas' calm blue ones. "So, prince: What do you think he'd say to that?"

The elven prince raised his chin and stared at the dark haired man, cold, furious contempt beginning to spread over his face. His eyes narrowed so far that it was hard to tell whether they were open or not, and the irises turned a dark, stormy blue colour.
"My royal father," he began slowly and clearly, "would tell you to take your pathetic threats elsewhere, would muster his army, rally his allies, march here, kill you and your men and raze this city to the ground."

Girion threw back his head and laughed, something that only fortified the belief that had been growing inside of the blond elf, namely that the man was completely and utterly mad. If Girion thought that he was joking, then he was sadly mistaken. His father would do just that, and it would be only a little something to warm up.

Girion needed only a few seconds to calm down and quickly returned his gaze to the stony-faced elf. He abruptly turned around and walked over to the balustrade, motioning Teonvan to bring the elf over next to him which the man did only too willingly. Legolas was jerked to a stop next to the dark-clad lord, the pain that blossomed in his still healing wounds causing him to silently curse Teonvan and all his ancestors and possible descendants.

"You amuse me, elf," Girion said next to him in an indifferent tone of voice. "Not many things amuse me of late. There is one other thing though; do you see this?" he asked confidentially, making a sweeping motion into the direction of the gallows.

Legolas raised a mocking eyebrow, but refrained from saying something very sarcastic just in time. He would have to be blind or stupid or both not to see the other wooden platform – that was why he was here after all, even though that was something he could hardly tell Girion now. He merely stared straight ahead, anger once again boiling hotly in his veins when he saw the golden haired elf standing in the middle of the podium, his hands tied behind his back. A thick, coarse noose of rope lay around his neck, sneaking upward past the heavy knot at the back of the elf's neck to the wooden gallows like a malicious, deadly snake. Legolas stared hard at the other elf, willing him to look at him, but Glorfindel did not.

Girion waited for a few more moments, and a small, angry sparkle flickered to life in his eyes when the elf simply ignored him. He took a deep breath and pushed the fury and hatred he felt for this infuriatingly calm being aside, once again returning his attention to the sight in front of him.
"Did you really think you could save him?" he asked, truly interested. "That I would let him go once I had you? Or did you simply want to be a hero, elf?"

Legolas did not answer, his eyes still fixed on Glorfindel's bruised, bloodied face, and in the moment Girion took a step forward and grasped him by the throat the golden haired elf lord suddenly looked up, either by chance or because he had sensed the younger elf's insistent stare. In the second before the man's hand closed around Legolas' neck and brutally turned him around, the two elves' eyes met, and Legolas desperately hoped that the older elf could see the promise in his eyes, the promise that he would be rescued and that everything would be alright.

Before he could dwell further on this he was yanked around and forced to look into Girion's face that was now red with fury. Teonvan was standing behind his lord, an expression on his face that was so smug that Legolas voluntarily redirected his attention to the man who was only a step away from strangling him.

"I want an answer, elf, do you understand me? I have enough of your insolence and your damned elven superiority! Why are you here, your Highness?" Girion hissed at the fair haired elf, his hand closing a little bit more tightly around his throat. "Why? Why did you come here? You must have known you couldn't win."

He narrowed his eyes at the elf who was struggling to draw some air into his lungs, and cruelly increased the pressure a bit more.

"Is it because of the girl's accomplices? Are you part of a plan to overthrow me? To assassinate me, to stop me from taking back what is mine, what should have been mine and my family's a long time ago? You disappoint me, elf," he shook his head slowly, his eyes fixed on his struggling captive. "I had thought you to be cleverer than this. You must have known you couldn't help those 'freedom fighters', you must have known they were far beyond your aid. You must have known it would end like this and that you would be captured, just like your friends will be captured. You must have known that my power is far superior to theirs, or yours, or even your elven friends' and that of your oh-so-powerful father. You must have known that neither you nor they would escape."

He allowed the elf to breathe once more, feeling with substantial satisfaction how the blond being fought to force enough oxygen into his lungs around the fingers that were still wrapped around his throat. The man gave the elf a few seconds to regain his breath before he leaned even closer.

"You must have known all this, Prince Legolas. You are not stupid enough not to have known. So why did you do it when you knew you didn't even stand the slightest chance against me?"

Legolas did his best to get his breathing under control, telling himself that he should have remembered Girion penchant for trying to strangle people. It had been only half an hour that he had last seen the bruises Girion's fist had left around Aragorn's throat when they had arrived here. A small part of him grinned inwardly. Now they would have a matching set of bruises, wasn't that great?

Girion's hand was still wrapped around his neck, constricting his breathing, and while Legolas' eyes wandered over the part of the room he could see, something caught his attention, something he would almost have accredited to lack of oxygen. He blinked and tried to get the world into sharper focus, and half a second later he saw that he hadn't been mistaken: Cendan was slowly walking up the stairs at Girion's and Teonvan's back, appearing as emotionless as ever.

If the dark haired lieutenant was surprised to find his lord close to strangling an elven prisoner, he did not show it, and only the most keen-eyed and observant people would have noticed the small, almost undetectable nod he gave the struggling elf. Legolas felt relief pulse through him, and with a small shake of his head he returned his eyes to Girion who was still waiting for his answer, renewed confidence filling him. All the pieces had been positioned and all preparations had been made; it was time to end this.

"You want to know why I did it?" he asked scornfully, very surprised that his voice was understandable at all and did not resemble the squeaking of a mouse. "You would never understand, human, even if I told you. You could not understand."

"Humour me," Girion hissed softly, having completely forgotten about everything but the fair haired elf in front of him. That fact was not lost on Legolas, and the elf prayed that the dark-clad man and his personal guards would stay distracted until Cendan could get a bit closer.

Legolas took another laboured breath, his cold, angry eyes seemingly boring into Girion's very soul.

"I did it because what is right cannot be measured in terms such as strong or weak. Possessing the power to do something does not give you the right to do it. Nothing gives you the right to disregard the lives and dignity of these people in the way you do. With your foolish actions you do not only doom yourself and your house, you doom this city and its inhabitants – you even doom your soldiers and your 'allies'. You may have the power to kill me now, yes; you may even have the power to kill my friends and anyone who opposes you in this town, but that power is neither reason nor justification for your actions."

He paused for a moment and studied the face of the man in front of him who appeared well on his way to fury-induced heart failure.

"Yes," he nodded, noting calmly how the red colour on Girion's face reached an interesting, dark, thoroughly unhealthy-looking intensity. "Yes, I knew all these things, but they do not matter. You are right: The girl's friends' fight is not mine. But I also knew that I would be no better than you or your men if I sat back and did nothing. It was the right thing to do, but that is something you and all the people like you will never understand, even if you wanted to."

The elf's words echoed inside Girion's head, and his ire went up another notch, something he had thought absolutely impossible. It was a minor miracle that he was still able to speak despite the fury that threatened to choke him.
"Be that as it may, your Highness, but there is something you have yet to understand: No one speaks to me in such a manner. No one." He nodded at one of the officers standing to the right of them. "Hang the other."

If Girion had expected a shocked plea to stop or something similar, he was sorely disappointed. The elf merely looked emotionlessly from the officer who was hurrying to pass on his lord's order to the dark haired human, contempt and hatred on his face.
"He has nothing to do with this, and you know it. Why do something that will avail you nothing?"

"Who says it will avail me nothing?" Girion smiled; a dark, sardonic grimace. "It will amuse me to no end that you will have to watch his death without being able to do anything to prevent it. You can't save him, and that is something you know, my dear prince. He will die – because of you. How does that feel, elf?"

Legolas returned gave him a smile that was about as warm as the peak of Caradhras in mid-winter.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, human."

"Oh?" Girion asked scornfully and gestured at the guards who were climbing the stairs to the gallows, ready to pass on their liege's orders. "And why is that?"

The elven prince merely smiled brightly, nodding at something behind the dark haired man's back, and a calm, emotionless voice interrupted the tense silence that had fallen.
"That would be because of me, I believe."

Girion let go of the elf's throat and slowly turned around, the slowness of his movements standing in stark contrast to his emotional state. Teonvan turned around as well, fury, surprise and even a bit of quickly hidden fear flittering over his face. Legolas used the brief moment of distracting as everyone's eyes were fixed on Cendan's motionless figure to slowly and carefully edge to the side, doing his best to suppress a cough to clear his abused throat. The last thing he needed now was to draw any unnecessary attention to himself.

He needn't have worried, though, for nothing short of divine interference would have been able to make Teonvan, Girion or any of the other councillors or officers take their eyes off the even-faced lieutenant who appeared not at all bothered by the fact that he had just incurred his lord's wrath and that of his superior officer.

"What did you say, Lieutenant?" Girion asked incredulously.

"You heard me," Cendan replied coldly, an answer that caused nearly all those present to freeze in shock and fear.

"Go on, Cendan," Teonvan said, a smile spreading over his face. "You are just talking yourself onto the scaffold."

"We'll see about that," the lieutenant answered evenly. He turned to Girion whose mouth had actually fallen open at the unprecedented insolence; no one had ever dared to talk to him like that and had lived. Cendan ignored the quickly growing outrage on the dark haired lord's face and gave him a quick, curt bow, enjoying all this far more than he actually should have. "I think I should notify you that I regard my oath of allegiance to you as null and void. You are not worthy of the loyalty I and so many others have given you for so long, and you will bring us nothing but certain death."

"How kind of you to inform me," Girion said, inwardly boiling with rage. "And what are you planning to do now, half-breed? You are a dead man."

Cendan remained unimpressed, and the only sign that he had even heard the other man's threatening words was the dark, dangerous smile that spread over his face.

"Now that you ask, my lord," he answered with only a hint of mockery in his voice, "I think I would like to kill you and your little lapdog of a captain." Cendan enjoyed the disbelief and slightly stunned looks on everyone's faces and cast a quick look about him, making sure that his men were in place. "Only if that is not too inconvenient now, of course?"

Teonvan spluttered angrily and was about to say something, but before he could articulate a single word Cendan had started to move and had closed the few steps that had separated him from the elf who had slowly and stealthily been making his way into his direction. With a quick move of his wrist he had grabbed Legolas' arm, had turned him around and cut his bonds, thrusting his knife into the chest of the guard closest to him in the process.

Cendan transferred the knife from the dying man's chest to the elf's outstretched hand in a smooth movement and drew his sword, just in time to watch his men who he had positioned with such great care at strategic spots all over the gallery do the same.

He turned back around and took a quick step into the direction of Girion and Teonvan and raised his blade in a mock salute, an almost predatory smile on his lips, and a second later everyone exploded into action and the entire field was thrown into complete and utter chaos.





TBC...





ada - father (daddy)
mellon nín - my friend




grins nervously Well, the cliffy isn't that bad, is it? ducks a hail of arrows and a random sword Jeez, you people take this far too personally... Okay, so the next chapter will be here in a week, at least I hope so. And yes, Teonvan , Girion, Glamir and a lot of random, nameless villains will finally get what they deserve. I know, I know: Took me long enough, too. g Reviews make me happy, as always, and when I'm happy, I tend to write more quickly. I know that this is a rather pathetic attempt to bribe you, but I don't care. g So: Review? Please?

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Additional A/N:

Deana - Yeah, I know that () works, but it really looks stupid, (g) or (smiles). No, it's really strange. I hate FF.net, I really do. The worst thing is that it's apparently returning the feeling... g Thanks for all the reviews!
CSI3 - Well, the Elvish... There are a few books out there you can use, even though they're quite expensive for the most part, at least here. Learning from this story is a bad idea because a. I'm not THE most wonderful Elvish scholar either and b. because the words do not always in their nominative case endings. Especially Quenya adds different endings for different cases, and Sindarin has this whole system of soft, hard, nasal, liquid and mixed mutation. It makes everything rathe complicated. shrugs You must really be willing to put a lot of time and effort into it, since they're not exactly the easiest languages there are. Whatever you do, don't use the Grey Company Dictionary. It's horrible, and mixes Quenya and Sindarin and God knows what. It's ... shivers Just don't use it.
LOTRFaith - Well, a lot of people seem to have taken a liking to the dear lieutenant. And no, you still may not have him. If he survives, I may give you a clone. So you're claustrophobic, really? That must be horrible... The only phobia I have is arachnophobia, and that's bad enough... I really, really hate those creepy, eight-legged little things... I like the real stars too, but I miss my virtual stars even more. I LOVE my stars, they're my own, my preciousss... g You get the point, I guess. So you're looking forward to Legolas' plan, huh? Well, just read on and you'll see... g
Jazmin3 Firewing - Hey, what a coincidence! I am supposed to work on a history project myself. It has to be finished by next Tuesday, don't remind me... shudders And I totally agree: The Valar help all of them. And us. Even me, because I have put them back together after they got themselves injured... shakes head Reckless children, really. Relatively speaking, of course.
Red Tigress - Well, I could live with upset readers, but dead elves and rangers on my keyboard ... that would be rather inconvenient, I admit that. g So the chapter was cute, huh? re-reads it Uhm, all that gloom-and-doom in the cell was cute? shrugs Whatever you say...
Galadhriel Vornionien - You don't have to apologise, really. I hate it myself when people make mistakes like these, and I thank you for correcting me. Your husband was perfectly right. g So you're about to join the I-want-to-kidnap-Celylith-club? I am sure he would love it in Kemenril - spiders and above ground, huh? He'd definitely love that... g
Bailey - Hmm, I went to a Catholic school myself, and we didn't have things as bibel finals. Then again, I'm Protestant, and we had separate religious education. Hey, I'm not complaining. I would have gotten nothing but bad grades... g And I agree: I wouldn't worry either if my friend were gone when I woke up. I guess Legolas worries because his arm was broken and he's not sure whether or not it's fully healed yet. Silly elf. Glamir IS sadistic, I agree. I guess we all knew that, didn't we? evil grin
Someone Reading - Yeah, I'm sure you'd love to comfort him. g But I agree, Celylith has shown remarkable restraint until now. I would have killed Glorfindel a long time ago... And don't worry about the plot bunny. I have a whole pack of them gnawing on my legs at the moment. They appear out of nowhere all the time... g Great you liked the chapter, thanks for the review!
Uineniel - Hmm, I guess they're so funny because they have a weird sense of humour. Might be the reason. g And the chapter was too short? SHORT? It was nearly 20 pages long! This one is even longer! I would hardly call that 'short'! calms down Sorry, I just hate it that the characters don't shut up and refuse to listen to me. They always do that. And FF.net deleted all my normal characters and turned everything bold. It took me nearly two hours to get this even remotely right. God, sometimes I really hate this website.
SeventhSpanishAngel12 - Yes, you WERE quite nice. Thanks, btw. g And last chapter was indeed the Calm Before the Storm. This is more like the Beginning of the Storm, or whatever you want to call it. g And it's really very nice to hear that you don't like 'just' torture fics. There are a lot of stories out there which are simply one long torture scene. You can overdo everything - even something as funny as torture. Great to hear that you liked this chapter, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story as well!
AngelMouse5 - blinks Noooo... It won't happen like this, not at all... Legolas would never do something like this, and the rebels wouldn't either. shakes head No. Definitely not. g Your guess is rather close. Not quite as I have planned it, but rather close really. Disconcertingly close actually. I guess I'm getting horribly predictable. g
LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel - I don't think Rashwe will die in this story, don't worry. I don't know if he'll make a real appearance in the last two chapters, but we'll see. You are right of course, all Mirkwood elves do seem to have a small gambling problem. Hmm, I wonder if that means that the Galadhrim have the same problems? Would be interesting... g I know that the story is long, it's horrible! The next two chapters are even longer! hangs head Sometimes I really hate my characters. They simply don't shut up.
Strider's Girl - blushes Stop saying that. You'll give me delusions of grandeur. I thought that Aragorn should get the chance to fret over the twins for once. They do it all the time, it's simply not fair. g Ah yes, the GCSEs. You British are obsessed with exams, you really are. I wish you all the luck in the world, and really hope you'll get through this okay. Just don't take it too seriously - I know, a really stupid bit of advice. It works for me though, when I stop a moment to remember that it's not really THAT bad. Well, most of the time I lie to myself and it IS "that bad" - or worse. g So: Good luck! huggles
Alisha B - You! I missed you! huggles Great to 'see' you again. Oh, and I know exactly what you mean. My books did indeed held me hostage for quite a long time - I thought I'd never get out of my room again! g I'm sorry to hear about your computer. I know how annoying they can be; my CD-writer doesn't work at the moment, and I really should try to repair it. I'm afraid to do anything though, since we all know the first rule when dealing with computers of any kind: Never change a running system. I might just make everything even worse... LOL, Death-by-balrog? I don't know why, but I simply fell off my chair at that. I never really saw it like that... g Oh, and people can survive a really long time, several minutes in fact. I guess that an elf can survive at least 4 or 5 minutes or something. Good for Glorfindel, huh? OMG, you're right! I promised them a Celylith clone, and he isn't even dead yet! I'm sorry about that, but I guess since nobody got the answer right, no harm's done. Oh, did I say "not dead yet"? Just a slip of the tongue, don't worry... evil grin But I really don't know why you don't trust me. Hmm, then again, I don't trust myself, so I guess you have a point. g Thanks a lot for the huge review, and I hope you manage to repair your family's computer!
Crippled Raven - Nope, I can't get the stars. FF.net eats them, stupid, evil piece of software that is it... g LOL, you're right, there's a lot of worry floating around here. Everybody worries for everybody else... frowns That's a really stupid reason for making you hand in hand-written papers. I mean, you can STILL copy everything. shakes head That's really a stupid reason. g Second set sounds interesting though. We never had that kind of textbooks. I would have given a lot for something like that, though, I've always hated Maths with a passion. I don't think I CAN get the stars back though. I guess they're what FF.net calls "non-language relevant keyboard characters". I HATE this page, I really do. grrr
Sirithiliel - Ah, that's nice to hear. That it was a compliment, I mean. It's not good to read stories at school, you know that, don't you? Well, I guess I shouldn't be talking, since I do it all the time myself. g Thanks for the review!
TrustingFriendship - Don't worry, the stubborn Peredhel will wake up soon enough. And it's a real problem figuring out who will be allowed to kill whom. It's not easy, really. Too few villains, too many angry heroes. shrugs Well, we'll see. I hope.
Firniswin - Yeah, you're right. Maybe they needed a vacation. Well, if that is so I hope that they get back SOON, because I'm really beginning to get angry here. I want my stars back. Thanks for yours, though. g blinks So you love your church, huh? Well, that's ... nice. I don't have a church, but whatever makes you happy. g I agree though: None of them is very happy at the moment. And don't worry about saying what you think Legolas will do. I'm quite sure it can't be more foolish than the actual plan. In fact, I'm sure it's not. g
Elvendancer - No, OF COURSE you are not crazy. Keep telling yourself that and you might actually believe it someday. g I tried it for years and it didn't work very well. g Thanks for the review!
Grumpy - LOL, yes, I guess you could say that. Hide and seek is as good a description as any. g You are right of course, it would be nice if Glamir simply turned into a pile of ashes on the floor. It would be too much to ask for though I guess. g
Shauna - Well, it's nice that you are repeating yourself. It's good to hear that you liked this chapter as well. Believe it or not, this chapter isn't THAT action-packed. The next one is though. You're right of course, Legolas is very good at being reckless and stupid. And it won't be a very nice sight when everything goes straight to hell, believe me. g As always.
Alex Mistress Squirrel - Hey! Long time no see! I won't shoot you, don't worry. I know that real life can get really hectic. LOL, yes I guess Legolas and I could mourn our stars together. Oh, and you'll see what Legolas' plan is soon enough. You might not like it though. Aragorn didn't, after all. g
Tychen - Thanks for your stars. It's not too bad anyway, I just need some time to get used to the / things. I don't really like them all that much. g You are right of course, they aren't really in any shape to try and rescue someone, but since when did that ever stop them? And just how does everyone know what Legolas will do? LOL, Celylith the bendy toy? That IS an interesting comparison. And fitting, too. g
Firnsarnien - Yup, Legolas IS a thoughtful elf. That's why we love him, after all. I love the twins, too, btw, but who doesn't? So you love every elf on Arda? What about Fëanor and his happy little family then? Wait a moment, he's not exactly on Arda, but still... And if you like anything with pointy ears, you like orcs as well. They ARE adorable, you're right. g LOL, I'm just trying to imagine our heroes rescuing a bag of small little pieces. It would be rather interesting. g Don't worry about Legolas going off on his own though. He's reckless, but he's not suicidal, at least not in my stories. Most of the time, that is. g
Marbienl - You know what? I thought of blowing that bunny to pieces myself... g And they're not cute. They're evil and vicious and steal all my sleep. ALL the time. They're not cute. chokes Yes, I'm SURE you would love to see Estel on a leash. I won't go into this now. Or ever, actually. g And believe it or not, I thought about shaving his head. Well actually, I thought about shaving Legolas' head, but I guess that would have killed him. You know him and his hair. g But I don't really think that Glorfindel has told a lot of people about dying and all that. Would just seem ... wrong, somehow. Don't ask me why. And you're evil, did you know that? Poking poor Estel like that ... shakes head Evil you. And I have two papers due right now. One about tithes in the Middle Ages, and one about ... well, the Netherlands, believe it or not. More precisely, about the Dutch-Spanish Twelve-Years-Truce from 1609 and the Dutch-Spanish/Portuguese conflict in the colonies till the resumption of the war in 1621. grimaces I hate to tell you that, but it's not THAT fascinating a topic. If you know any good books about that topic, please tell me, as long as they're not in Dutch or Spanish. It's really hard to find any non-Dutch sources for this, did you know that? shudders I'm glad when it's over, really.
Iccle Fairy - Who doesn't like stars! I love them! I have the very bad feeling that they won't work though, FF.net calls them "non-language relevant keyboard characters". Great, huh? And you really need to think about whether or not the plan is good? Of course it's not! shakes head Legolas' plans never are.
Karone Evertree - Thanks! It's nice to know that you think the chapters are worth waiting for. And Elrohir is right, isn't he? It's never good if Legolas has a plan - especially towards the end of the story. It's never a good sign. g
Celebdil-galad Tinlaure - Hmm, I haven't decided yet whether or not Glamir will actually dislocate Celylith's shoulder, so don't worry yet. I have to admit though that I am really leaning towards it at the moment... g I have no problems whatsoever writing things like that. It's the real torture that bothers me. Your guess isn't that far off, you know. Not quite right, but rather close. g I think there already is something like a Cellyith fan club out there, it's called the CLF, you remember? g Are you serious about the spiders? That's horrible? I have arachnophobia, and the mere idea is terrifying! I mean it, I HATE spiders! I have to admit that I have no idea what a cecadia is, but they sound rather annoying. I don't really know if Celylith would want them. g Oh, and I'm not 'fluent' in either of the two languages, but I usually can figure out what I want to say in a few minutes. I understand more Sindarin than Quenya at the moment, but I'm working on it.
Bookworm, .303 - Yeah, I've hear about (/) too, but I really don't want to use them, they don't really look good. I really, really hate FF.net, did I mention that? I guess I did once or twice, huh? I am really not sure if Legolas' plan would put your mind at ease - right now I doubt it, really. Silly elf. g
Elenora1 - Well, it's nice to hear that you're still enjoying my insane little story. huggles LOL, yes, I have tortured just about everybody, which is only fair of course. I couldn't torture only Legolas and Aragorn, now could? sighs No, you elf angst lovers are never satisfied, but let me see. looks at her timetable which is the only thing preventing this thing from sliding into complete chaos Legolas' little conversation with Teonvan was on Day 11, or Febr. 15th., the rather 'uneventful' (meaning mostly cuts and bruises) encounter with Glamir was on the evening of Day 19, and we now have Day 23 or Febr. 27th. So that means that his more serious injuries are now 12 days old, which is quite a long time for elves, especially when they're properly looked after, which was at least partly the case since Aragorn was there. So: No, Legolas' is definitely not fully healed, and all that worrying about the reckless ranger won't have done him much good either, but he's far from death's doors. He'll be able to pull this off, at least at the beginning. Knowing them, nothing goes accroding to plan, as always. g
Kathleen LaCorneille - You are right of course, in the end everything will be well - mostly, that is. I'm too evil for a really happy end, I fear. g I'm so angry about the stars because I really got used to them by now. I don't know about French keyboards, but the / is right next to the left Shift key, below the A, and therefore awfully hard to reach if you want to use it frequently. The star, however, is below the backspace key, left of Enter, at least here in Germany. Far easier to reach, really. LOL, Elrond would most likely not have been overly pleased if he had had to melt the ice before he could get to Estel, I agree. Don't worry about Elladan, he'll wake up this chapter. I don't know the end of the joke though, sorry. You'll have to ask Glorfindel yourself, and the same goes for the word. Sorry.
Snow-Glory - Yeah, well, rub it in, will you? It's so NICE to know that you can still use stars in your reviews... grr Hmmm, let me think, why do all healers appear to be evil? I don't know, maybe because they are? It might also be because they have to put up with Legolas and Estel, and that's not easy, we know that. g Glad you liked the bet. Celylith IS rather insane, isn't he? pats his head Don't worry, I still like you. I may have a funny way of showing it, but I do. g
Salara - Ah, keine Angst, das neue Kapitel kommt erst heute. Kein Grund zur Panik... g Ich erinnere mich uebrigens noch gut an den Anfang der Geschichte, wo du eben diese Vermutung aeussertest. Und jetzt behaelst du sogar Recht! g Hmm, du meinst den guten Sero? Also, um den wuerde ich mir wirklich keine Sorgen machen, ein Veraeter (Cendan) ist mir genug. Sonst werden's hier noch zu viele und keiner blickt mehr durch. Yup, wir haben fuenf Katzen, aber du willst keine von denen, glaub' mir, die sind alle geistesgestoert. Wir haben Bluemchen oder Der Rote, einen Hippy-Kater, der nur die ganze Zeit wie auf Hasch durch die Gegend guckt, einen schwulen Kater (kein Scherz) mit dem Namen Tunti-Tuffy oder Tuffy-Schwuchtel oder verschiedenen Variationen und der (Artikel ist wichtig) Koenigskatze, eine Katze, die nur 'rumsitzt und sich fuer die schoenste und tollste haelt. Dann haben wir noch Die Kleine, die hier von jeder anderen Katze gepruegelt wird und von einer Ecke in die andere huscht, und Schmulay el Raisulay, oder Shmul, ganz nach belieben, einen absoluten Macho-Kater, der sich nicht richtig putzt. Frag lieber nicht, aber glaub' mir, du willst keinen von denen. g Wie immer Danke fuer die lange Review! knuddel
Sadie Elfgirl - g Well, who doesn't feel sorry for poor Celylith? He's really not in a very good position right now - and neither is Glorfindel now that I think about it... Hmmm, maybe you ARE right, after all. Legolas' plan just might be a little bit stupid. Or a lot, depends on your perspective. g Yes, there are only two more chapters after this one; believe me, one more and I would go stark raving mad. I have indeed another one planned (well, not really 'planned', but I have a vague idea about what it's going to be), but it won't come out for some time, I'm afraid. I really don't have enough time at the moment. shakes head sadly
Nietta - I know. We really DO hate each other, and unfortunately FF.net is winning at the moment... grrr I hate this bloody page, I really do. Nope, you shouldn't have bet the £100. Sorry. evil grin All I'm going to say is: Never underestimate the OCs, especially in this story. They're quite mad themselves. g It's always nice to hear that you like the humour. There are lines that amuse me to no end too - I'm weird, I know, laughing about my own jokes. Ah well, I AM insane, so that shouldn't really surprise me, should it? g Hmm, about Troy: Let's just say that I haven't seen it, and that you could pay me those £100 and I still wouldn't go and see it. I study Ancient History, you know? A friend of mine saw it and told me all about it - there are things I can't see, and this ... movie is one of them. That noise you hear all the time in background when you watch it is the sound of Homer spinning in his grave. Nothing against Eric Bana or Brad Pitt (both are extremely yummy in my opinion), but apart from the fact that I hate Sean Bean and will never forgive him for playing my all time favourite Odysseus/Ulysses, there are just things you don't do with Homer, for starters ignoring the Gods. You can't do that, and you can't let Paris live and kill Menelaos, or cut out Patroklos or Achilleus' son whose name I have forgotten - yes, he had a SON, for crying out loud. And Helena returned to Sparta with Menelaos, and Achilleus died a long time before Troy was conquered, and and and... takes a deep breath Sorry. I just couldn't take it. I LOVE Homer, and what they've done to the Ilias is something I couldn't watch, and I would certainly not pay any money for it. So you liked it, huh? sheepishly Sorry, that's okay of course. Not everyone is quite as mad I am about Homer and adherence to historical (or literary) facts. Good luck with your exams, and thanks a lot for the long review!
Suzi - Hey! huggles Nice to 'see' you again! Connor did what? He broke your fingers? Really? That's quite ... male, I guess. Another proof that he's part Númenórean, isn't it? I BET he's really Nú (Neg.). g LOL, the more I read about him the more he really appears to have some remote ties with the twins and Estel. It's rather scary, huh? But I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to entertain him here. We don't have ... enough space, yes, that's it. Plus my dog is allergic to stubborn, reckless Scots. smiles friendly Sorry, but I love my dog. He'll have to find someone else to torment and injure... g So the word is 'mittens'? I have to admit I had to look it up because I had absolutely no idea what it meant, but now that I have found out I can tell you that it's NOT. Surprise. g Why would call Glorifndel Erestor a glove? frowns Nah, I don't think so. Zam's name for the ox is in fact Oswald Spalding, I just didn't get to finish it. It's nice, isn't it? g Oh, so Eva's here! Hey! waves Nice to see you! I hope you got used to wherever you moved and that you found a lot of new friends! I'm sure you did - any friend of Suzi's just has to be friendly and sociable... No, that wasn't sarcastic. Not at all. keep a straight face keep a straight face keep... Well, I hope you get better soon, thanks for the long review and the TONS of cookies! huggles
CrazyLOTRfan - Yup, I want my stars back. It's not really too much to ask, is it? I HAVE a working printer/photocopy machine/scanner, and now that I think about it, I like it even more than my stars. I would have suggested a trade otherwise, but.... shrugs Sorry. Hmm, I don't think that Elrond will be in Mirkwood when they arrive. I have yet to think of a reason why he wouldn't be there, but I don't want to put him just into the last chapter. Don't ask me why, I don't really know myself. LOL, you're right, we should really consider what all this would do to poor Mandos. He'd be stuck with all three of Elrond's sons (at least for a while), Legolas, Celylith AND Glorfindel AGAIN. I'm sure that's why they are so lucky and don't die, Námo went to Manwë and begged him to protect them because he would go insane othewise! g Well, have fun with your biology Homework. It's a LOT of fun, I'm sure. evil grin

sighs I still don't have my stars back. It's sad really. Well, as always, thanks for all the reviews! They cheered me up a little! g