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.

32. Matters of Honour

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

Okay, so I admit it wasn't Tuesday. But Wednesday is still better than Thursday, isn't it? nods to herself and ignores readers' outraged looks I am sorry, really, but this weekend was rather chaotic. And my mother had a car accident today, which didn't really make things easier around here. Nothing happened to her, fortunately, but the car is beyond aid, I fear. grimaces I really liked that car.

Alright, that most likely doesn't really interest you. What seemed to interest quite a few people though was the question whether or not I am planning to write another story. So, I can announce that yes, I am indeed planning to write another story - but not for some time, I am afraid. dark growling sounds from the audience Well, I am sorry about that, but I really don't have the time right now. But yes, I will write a sequel to this story (which will be the sequel to the sequel to the sequel of the story now that I think about it g), and I am also planning yet another little birthday story, this time for Marbienl, which will most likely include Aragorn, Legolas, the Rivendell elves and some hill trolls. Don't ask me to tell you more, because I have absolutely no idea myself. g

And now for something completely different... Ah yes, Ethoani. As I said, I am sorry about it, but she ... well ... I mean ... it's Jack's fault. Take it up with her. grins at irate Jack It's also nice to know that so many of you are so worried about Celylith. I am sure that he would appreciate it - if he were capable of something like that at the moment... evil grin No, guys, really: Do you honestly think that I would harm him and risk the wrath of the great and mighty CLF? readers think about it and nod after a second Ah well, you might be right...

Well, we'll see about that, won't we, since Legolas has a little talk with Glamir in this chapter. Yay! Other than that, we also see Girion and Teonvan again, and even Sangwar and Halyo. Oh, and the bad guys are dropping like flies. shakes head Poor them. Well, not really. g

Have fun and review, please!

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Chapter 32


For a few moments, the two groups were too stunned to react and simply stared at each other. Legolas was too surprised to even move a single muscle, and his thoughts that were going round and round in his head did nothing to alleviate his headache in the slightest.

Varda Elentári, what was Teonvan doing here? He had expected to run into about every man in this castle – every man but Teonvan, that was. Then again, he thought darkly, he shouldn't be so surprised. It wasn't like Teonvan at all to stay at Girion's side and let himself be slaughtered by a horde of angry renegade soldiers or incensed townspeople. If there was any way out of this situation, Teonvan would find it and use it so quickly that the only thing one would see of him would be the edge of his cloak.

Of course, Legolas thought, his eyes wandering over the small group of stunned people in front of him. Teonvan wanted to take his guards and lieutenant and use the tunnel leading under the castle to the shop in the city, that much was clear. The elf narrowed his eyes, tearing himself out of his short paralysis. Well, they would see about that, wouldn't they?

Next to him, Cendan seemed to return to the present as well, and for a brief moment he and the elven prince looked at each other. A second later Cendan jumped to the left and Legolas to the right, just in time to avoid a couple of crossbow bolts that cut through the air where they had been only moments ago. Legolas impacted with the stone wall hard, the impact momentarily stunning him, but he quickly shook off the pain as best as he could, telling himself insistently that now was not the time to give in to the urge to simply slide down the wall and remain on the floor.

With an inward curse the elf gripped his sword more tightly and sprang forward, moving quickly in order not to collide with Cendan who was just pushing himself off the wall as well. He quickly closed the distance between himself and the men who were in the process of drawing their swords and blocked the first swing that had been aimed at his head, and before the men really knew what was happening, he had moved past them and had aimed a rather fierce kick at the open door leading to the dark passage. The door closed with a loud bang and Legolas grinned, whirling around and placing himself in front of the threshold. If Teonvan and his friends wanted to get out of here, they'd have to go right through him.

The men didn't appear too averse to trying just that, and half a second later all the men stormed forward into the direction of the fair haired elf. They were no fools (at least most of them weren't), and they very well realised that their only way out of the castle was through that tunnel. If they didn't want to get killed by their former colleagues and the people of this city, they would have to get out of here – very, very soon.

Even under normal circumstances Legolas would have found it hard to fend off so many opponents at once, especially with the door only inches from his back, and current circumstances were anything but normal. His head was doing a rather fair impression of a suddenly imploding rock, and he was quite sure that if he didn't sit down and rest soon, it would start rotating around his neck in random patterns. The cut he had received earlier was beginning to give him serious trouble, and he was almost sure that the side wound Teonvan had given him so many days ago had opened again.

That thought served to cause burning fury to well up inside of him, and Legolas pushed the blade of one of the men aside with all his strength and kicked out with his left leg, hitting the man who had just attacked him in the side. The guard flew backwards, taking one of his comrades with him who didn't manage to get out of the way quickly enough and giving Legolas a short reprieve. By the Valar, the elf thought angrily, he didn't care if these people killed him or not, he would not allow them to escape, he wouldn't allow Teonvan to escape! He would make sure that that … man paid for what he had done to Aragorn and him. Yes, he nodded inwardly, he would kill him and then go and find Celylith. That sounded like a very good plan.

The guards who had stumbled backwards a few seconds ago began to close in on him again, but before they could completely surround him, an already familiar black-hilted knife burrowed itself in one of the men's throat. A moment later its owner joined the fray, and Legolas gave Cendan a breathless nod as he defended himself against the remaining guards, which the man either didn't see or ignored. The lieutenant appeared to be relatively unharmed except for a smaller cut on his right forearm, and Legolas suspected that not even a grievous injury would have stopped Cendan now. The almost fanatical sparkle in his eyes had grown ever brighter, and it was clear that he didn't intend to let anyone get between and his goal.

The elf's thoughts were quickly redirected to the present when he twisted to the side, doing his best not to come too close to Cendan in order not to distract him. He managed to avoid a blade that would have skewered him just in time, but his movement had brought him too close to his adversary, who joyfully seized this chance to draw back and slam his sword hilt into his still healing side.

Legolas was thrown against the wall and was unable to stifle a cry of pain as he desperately fought not to lose consciousness. The agony in his side mixed with the realisation that Aragorn would have his head for this, and for a second or two he was simply busy with trying not to pass out and to keep breathing.

While he was still debating how it was possible that the man had hit the one spot that had literally caused him to collapse where he stood – his most convincing explanation for now was that the Valar hated him and wanted him dead – the man took a step closer and grinned at him, which was probably quite a good thing because the sight of his opponent was enough to give Legolas the strength to climb back to his feet.

The man standing in front of him and looking insufferably smug was Lybran, one of Teonvan's two lieutenants. Of course the man knew where to hit him to cause the maximal amount of pain; he had helped Teonvan during their little … "conservation" on their way here, after all. The anger inside of Legolas grew even more, something he had thought highly unlikely. Lybran had been the nice gentleman who had constantly confused his face with a piece of carving wood.

Lybran's thoughts seemed to dwell on much the same memories, for his grin broadened and he raised his left hand to his cheek, a malicious sparkle in his eyes. That gesture was enough for Legolas to push aside the pain that was still burning in the left half of his body, and the elf raised his sword and moved forward, forcing the man to give way.

Lybran seemed to have been prepared for much, but not for the possibility that the blond elf would still be able to move so quickly after the hit he had taken. The man was hard-pressed to defend himself against the elf's surprisingly ferocious attack, and before he really knew what was happening, the elf's blade had thrust through his defences and opened two long, bloody gashes on his face, one on each cheek.

Lybran stumbled backwards, automatically raising a hand to his bleeding face.

"So," he began, eyeing the slightly swaying elf derisively, "are we even now, elf?"

Legolas merely raised an eyebrow, looking amused more than anything else as he moved closer, his eyes not leaving his opponent's body.

"Not nearly, human."

The words had barely left his lips when he moved forward again, displaying a speed and agility that a wounded being shouldn't, no, couldn't possibly display. Lybran had just enough time to block the elf's blow that had been aimed at his sword arm, only to realise a moment later that it had been a feint. The elf knocked his blade to the side and turned, thrusting his sword into the man's chest with a fluent movement too fast for Lybran to comprehend, and all he could do was stare stupefied first at the blade protruding from his breast and then at the fair haired elf who was standing in front of him, his hands still wrapped around the blade's hilt.

Legolas simply stared at the man, an emotionless mask on his face, and a moment later he withdrew his sword, giving the collapsing man a curt, dispassionate nod.

"Now we're even, Lybran."

He looked down on the man for another few moments before he turned around, only to come face to face with Teonvan who was apparently trying to escape while Cendan was still busy with the last two guards. Legolas had just enough time to stumble to the side as Teonvan's blade cut through the air to the left of him, but he quickly whirled back around, fury and hatred lending him the strength to ignore his complaining body and to concentrate on the situation at hand. Teonvan gave him a dark, malicious smile and brought down his sword for the second time, but Legolas had already moved out of reach and gave the man a kick while he was rushing past him, sending him crashing head first into the closed door behind them.

The captain remained where he was for a few moments, a stunned look on his sallow face and blood dripping down from a cut near his hairline, before he climbed back to his feet. Legolas was just beginning to walk toward him with a dark, dangerous sparkle in his eyes when a tall figure moved forward to intercept him and a hand closed around the elf's arm. Legolas would nearly have lashed out at this perceived threat, but he realised just in time that it was Cendan who had eliminated the last of Teonvan's men and had caught up with them.

"He's mine."

The dark haired man's voice was so emotionless that it surprised even Legolas who was accustomed to his behaviour by now, and when Legolas looked at him he saw the determined, deadly expression on his face.

"He's mine," Cendan repeated, slowly pushing Legolas to the side and moving closer to Teonvan. "This is not your fight, elf."

"Don't tell me which fights to pick, Cendan!" Legolas all but hissed at the man, the urge to kill Teonvan for all he had done burning brightly in his veins. "You may have forgotten what he has done to my friend and me, but I have not!"

"I don't care," Cendan returned emotionlessly, his eyes fixed on Teonvan's pale face. "This was the deal: You get your companions, I get his head. Go free your friend, elf; I will join you later. This won't take long."

Legolas hesitated for a few moments, the hatred inside of him warring with the voice of reason, and Cendan finally turned to look at him, his eyes meeting Legolas' for a second before he whirled back around to the other man.

"He killed Reran, elf!" he said, more emotion in his voice than Legolas had heard from him in all the weeks he had known him. "I will avenge my captain, and I advise you not to come between him and me, or you might come to regret it!"

The elven prince looked at Cendan's tense figure for a few moments, realising that the man meant what he'd just said. Cendan would turn on him if he tried to come between him and Teonvan, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to defeat him in the condition he was in at the moment; the lieutenant was an extremely skilled fighter, after all. A second later reason finally won out, and Legolas inclined his head and soundlessly walked on, disappearing down the corridor into the direction of Glamir's rooms.

Neither of the two men had truly seen him leave, so concentrated were they on each other. A few moments after Legolas had left Teonvan finally arched an eyebrow, doing a rather good job at hiding the fear that was obviously beginning to creep up on him.

"Well, if that's not the traitorous little Easterling. You just made a mistake, Cendan."

"Is that so?" Cendan replied evenly.

"You shouldn't have sent the elf away," Teonvan sneered maliciously. "Do you really think you can defeat me?"

Cendan arched a dark eyebrow as well, some of the hatred in his blue-grey eyes being replaced by open amusement.

"Defeat you?" he echoed unbelievingly. "I could defeat you blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back, and you know it. It is you who made the mistake, Teonvan. You really shouldn't have killed my captain."

Teonvan merely growled, jumped forward and brought his sword down, but Cendan was already long gone before the other man had even reached his position. He easily avoided the brown haired captain's blade and stepped to the side, aiming a blow at his adversary which Teonvan blocked, however. Cendan's next strike nearly took off the other man's head, but Teonvan managed to jump to the side just in time. The brown haired man hissed angrily, sounding like a rather ill-tempered snake for a moment, and aimed a blow at Cendan's heart that the other man blocked just in time.

The force of the blow sent the younger man stumbling backwards, and just before he hit the corridor's wall his foot caught on a part of one of the fallen men's armour. Cendan went down hard, and Teonvan readily seized this chance and jumped forward, aiming at his head. The other man managed to block the blow, but the captain's powerful stroke wrenched his sword out of his hand, leaving Cendan with the feeling that his right arm had just been paralysed from shoulder to wrist.

The brown haired captain grinned in triumph and drew back to deal another blow, but Cendan managed to kick out and hit him right in the left knee. His booted foot connected with a satisfying crunch and sent Teonvan staggering backwards, giving him just enough time to roll over and get back to his feet. Teonvan whirled around, but relaxed a moment later when he realised that Cendan was unarmed.

"So," he began smugly, slowly moving in on Cendan, "One hand tied behind your back, hm?"

"Just wait for it," Cendan said evenly, slowly backing away from the other man and not appearing overly concerned that he had no weapon to defend himself with.

"Oh, I won't have to," Teonvan countered. "I don't intend to drag this out longer than necessary, traitor."

"Traitor?" Cendan repeated, appearing truly surprised for once. "You call me a traitor?" He began to laugh, the first true laugh Teonvan had ever heard the other utter. "You killed your own captain and are now abandoning your lord to certain death! Who is the traitor here?"

"You don't understand it, just like the elf and his friend," Teonvan shook his head, apparently very aggrieved. "Treason is in the eye of the beholder. And at least I didn't side with an elf and betrayed my men for him and his little friends."

"Your men!" Cendan spat. "You don't have men; you only have henchmen. I did not 'betray' Girion for the elf or the ranger. I always knew you were despicable, and I don't even care about what you've done to them. All I care about is that you killed Reran."

"Reran!" Teonvan exclaimed and stopped some feet away from Cendan. "Reran was a sentimental fool with his head full of ideas about justice and loyalty!"

"Yes," Cendan agreed softly. "Yes, he was. He was a man of honour, and that is why I will kill you."

"Honour!" Teonvan snorted. "Honour is nothing! Nothing but an illusion, a dream!"

"Honour is all a man has left when everything else has been taken from him, but that is something you will never understand," Cendan retorted. "You are a sick coward, nothing more, nothing less." He began to smile darkly. "But not for long now. Let's get this over with once and for all."

"That's the first thing I agree on with you, half-breed," Teonvan smiled brightly, and a moment later he threw himself forwards with his sword raised in front of him, appearing rather intent on impaling the other man.

Cendan dove to the side just in time to avoid the blade, landing on the cold stone floor with a thud and barely avoiding the body of the guard he had stumbled over a minute ago. His eyes widened slightly when he looked at the dead man in front of him and his hand shot out, grabbing the small cylindrical hilt that protruded from the soldier's chest and ignoring the pain that shot through his injured forearm.

Teonvan jumped forward to bring his sword down onto the downed man's back, but Cendan rolled to the side and got back to his feet in a fluent motion, causing the other man to move past him. Teonvan was unable to stop his momentum in time and crashed into the body of the dead guard, causing him to stumble. The unexpected collision unbalanced the brown haired captain, and before he had the chance to regain his bearings, Cendan had calmly turned around and had thrust his knife into the other man's chest.

Teonvan continued his movement and turned around until he seemed to realised what had happened, but a moment later his eyes grew wide as he looked up from the knife to Cendan who was still grasping the knife hilt, a dark, unreadable expression on his face. The dark haired lieutenant pushed the blade in deeper, a strange flicker in his eyes as Teonvan's body convulsed.

"Strange, is it not?" Cendan asked in an almost friendly voice as he abruptly withdrew his knife and took a step back, giving Teonvan enough space to collapse. "Who would have thought that it would be a dream that kills you, Captain?"

Teonvan was far beyond answering now, and so the young lieutenant slowly and carefully returned his blade to its sheath, leaned back against the wall and watched how the light died in the other man's eyes.




Legolas was rushing down the corridor, the sounds of the two men's fight slowly fading behind him, and was calling himself a multitude of rather uncomplimentary names. Most of them would have caused even the twins to blush, and he was quite sure that the average elf – male and female alike – would have fainted on the spot upon hearing them.

The hatred and thirst for revenge he had pushed to the side only moments earlier did their best to get back to the front of his mind, and more than once he was truly tempted to turn around, walk back, tell Cendan that he didn't care if Teonvan had murdered his captain or not and kill that pitiful excuse for a human being himself. He doubted that he would ever forget what that … man had done to Aragorn and to him as well, and he would have loved to thrust his sword into his heart and watch him die.

The elf shook his head, one again forcing himself to concentrate on the situation at hand. There was nothing he could have done, and if he had stayed and tried to exact his revenge on the brown haired captain, he would have ended up having to fight Cendan as well, and, as loath as he was to admit that, he was in no shape to do that now. He might dislike Cendan, but he was objective enough to admit that he was a very experienced fighter, and especially dangerous with his knives. He had neither the time nor the desire to find out if he could beat him in his current condition.

No, he reasoned inwardly, he had done the right thing. He hadn't let Teonvan get away after all – if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that Cendan would do everything in his power to kill the other man. Teonvan was as good as dead.

More or less satisfied with that reasoning, Legolas gripped the hilt of his sword more tightly and shortly took his left hand off his side wound, frowning slightly when he saw dark crimson blood that covered his fingertips. He would almost have groaned aloud. Wonderful, Aragorn would really kill him for getting that wound reopened – if he was lucky. If he wasn't, the man would hand him over to Thesieni, and thenhe'd be in real trouble.

Before he could dwell further on these positively depressing thoughts, his head snapped up and his heart twisted in his chest as he heard a soft, quickly choked off scream. Legolas stopped as if he had just run into an invisible wall, feeling as if someone had just beaten him over the head with something heavy and unyielding. He knew that voice, he knew it... A moment later he began walking again, and in matter of moments he was rushing down the corridor, his eyes sweeping over the walls to his left and right.

By Elbereth's stars, on which side was this damned door again? Left or right? Cendan had told him only a few minutes ago, but he simply couldn't remember, Legolas ranted inwardly, all his thoughts concentrated on the scream he had heard a second or two ago. He did indeed know that voice; he had known it for almost his entire life. What were these people doing to his friend?

He was so engrossed in his worry and fear that he would nearly have run right into a pair of soldiers that were standing watch on either side of a well-made, carved wooden door to his left, and Legolas came to an abrupt, if somewhat graceless stop. The two men who were staring at him with wide eyes were at least as surprised as he was, which was turning out to be a blessing, since that fact gave the elf enough time to step closer and slam the hilt of his sword against the head of the guard closest to him before the man had even time to blink.

The fair haired elf stepped over the collapsing man, not even giving him a second look, an expression of such fury and contempt on his bloody face that the guard's companion was stunned for a few moments. The man came to his senses just in time to see the elf's fist approach his face as if in slow-motion, and time only seemed to speed up after the fair haired being's knuckles had made contact with his cheek. The guards didn't even have time to utter the cry of shock and pain that was on his lips as his head flew backwards and connected with the wall behind him with an audible thud. He was unconscious before he hit the ground, and Legolas turned around before he had even fully collapsed.

He quickly surveyed his surroundings to ensure that these two were the only guards and finally reached for the door's handle, suppressing dark memories that welled up inside of him and praying fervently that it wouldn't be locked from the inside. The door opened without a sound and Legolas breathed a deep sigh of relief and quickly revised his hypothesis: Maybe the Valar didn't want to kill him after all. They might simply revel in his misery.

All thoughts of the Valar and whether they hated him or not fled from his mind as he took a step forward, into the room and a scene that might have come out straight of one of his nightmares. He had no fond memories of this room to begin with, but the sight in front of him was something that left "not fond" far behind. Legolas froze where he stood, his eyes fixed on the room's two occupants. One was Glamir, who was looking just as he had looked the last time he had seen him, if not a bit more … happy. The second was Celylith, who looked definitely different than he remembered him.

The silver haired elf was chained to the wall in the one corner, to the left of the fireplace, and most of his right arm was covered with makeshift bandages that looked a lot like the remains of Glorfindel's coat and shirt. His right arm was bent at an impossible angle, and the fair haired elf had to take only one look at the lump that was visible where arm met shoulder to see that it was dislocated. Somebody seemed to have taken great pleasure in cutting close to every bit of Celylith's skin he had been able to reach, and Legolas was hard-pressed to spy a patch of skin that was uncut or not marred with dark bruises.

Neither the man nor the silver haired elf seemed to notice him, and Legolas watched, still paralysed with shock, how Glamir carefully put the bloody knife he was holding down onto the wooden chest standing next to him and took a step forward, saying something that Legolas couldn't understand over the blood that was rushing loudly in his ears. The small man reached out and grabbed his captive by the hair, tangling his hand in the long unbound strands and jerking his head back with a quick, cruel move. Glamir turned Celylith's head to the side to inspect the two fresh cuts in his left cheek, obviously enjoying the pain that flashed over the elf's face, and that was the moment when Legolas snapped out of his brief trance.

He unclenched his teeth and took another step forward, his eyes not leaving the figures to his left and his voice as cold and icy as the lands of Forodwaith in mid-winter.

"I'll thank you," he began as evenly as he could, "to take your hands off my friend."

Glamir's reaction was instantaneous. He whirled around, surprise flickering over his face, his hand still tangled in the silver haired elf's hair whose eyes had grown quite large by now. Celylith didn't say a single word, but the small smile that spread over his face spoke volumes.

"Well," the man began slowly, "if that's not the dear prince. Just what are you doing here?"

"Ah, this and that," Legolas answered nonchalantly as he slowly came closer. "Rescuing my other companion, overthrowing Girion, killing Teonvan … just a bit of everything, I guess."

"So you've been busy," Glamir nodded calmly, still not letting go of his prisoner.

"Indeed," Legolas agreed, a mere ten feet away from the two of them now.

"Stop right there," Glamir said sharply, his eyes not leaving the elven prince neutral face. "If you come one step closer, I will kill your friend here."

"You would be dead before you reached that knife of yours," Legolas said calmly. "Step away from him and release him, and I might not kill right away."

Glamir shook his head indignantly and moved to the side, very nearly wrenching the silver haired elf's head from his shoulders.

"You and your kind always insist on disturbing me at the most inopportune moments," the man complained, grinned slightly as he heard his elven prisoner's hiss of pain. "It is beginning to annoy me, to be honest. You are really no fun at all."

"Injure him further and I'll show you how much 'fun' I can be," Legolas hissed angrily, taking a step to the side as well. "Let him go. Now."

Glamir didn't answer but merely kept grinning at him, still edging sideward. Legolas' attention was briefly diverted by his friend's pained face when the man sprung into action, and Celylith's warning cry sounded at the same time that Legolas jumped forward, his shoulder hitting the man in the back and sending him flying forward.

The abrupt action made Glamir miss the knife he had been aiming at, but he managed to wrap his fingers around the handle of one of the whips that had been lying on top of the wooden chest, as if they were exhibits of some sort. Legolas needed a moment to battle the pain and dizziness that rose inside of him, and Glamir whirled round, his fist closed tightly around the tool.

With a speed Legolas hadn't expected from the small man Glamir moved forward, and the elven prince had just enough time to raise an arm in front of his face. The whip's thongs wrapped themselves around the elf's forearm, and a second later Legolas could barely bite back a groan of pain when he felt small metal hooks bite into his skin. The pain both helped him to fully concentrate on the situation and simultaneously served to incense him even more. Glamir had used this whip lately if it had been lying around here. On Glorfindel, or on Celylith. Or on both.

Legolas' expression darkened and he gave an inward growl. He didn't have the time or the desire to play some stupid game with this sick, small man. He needed to get his friend out of here, and he would not waste time with Glamir when Celylith needed his help. Pushing the pain of this new injury aside, Legolas yanked hard on the whip, wrenching it from his smaller opponent's grasp.

Glamir backed away, the smug expression on his face for the first time beginning to falter. Legolas didn't give him any chance to regain his bearings and pushed forward, forcing the man to back away. Glamir looked up into the silver-blue eyes of the elf that was closing in on him, and with the first real shudder of fear he had experienced in a long time he realised that there was nothing but calm, dark determination in his eyes. There wasn't even hatred or fury on his face, only the firm resolve to end this, and to end this now.

The elf pushed him further back so that he was only a few inches away from the wall, and with a last, desperate move forward the man lunged for his knife that was still lying on the edge of the chest. Legolas' left hand shot out, the whip's handle knocking the weapon off the wooden chest, and while Glamir was still moving past him, the elf gave him a kick that knocked the man's leg out from under him.

Glamir fell backwards with a surprised yelp, and half a second later the back of his head connected with the edge of the chest with a sharp, ugly crack. Glamir seemed to be frozen for a few seconds, his eyes staring straight ahead in an expression of true surprise, but then his body tumbled to the side, his neck bent at an impossible angle.

Legolas remained where he was for a few moments, simply staring at the dead man, before he gingerly leaned back against the wall and gulped air into his lungs. This little fight had about taken the last of the strength, but he still couldn't really believe that Glamir was dead. A small, dark part of his mind was by no means satisfied by the results. The man had been despicable, even more so than Teonvan in his opinion, and if there had ever been someone who had deserved a slow, painful death, it was Glamir.

"Well … I can't really … say that I feel the … least bit sad about this."

The elf snapped out of his short trance faster than he had thought possible, and in a second he had rushed over to his chained friend, his own wounds forgotten for the moment.

"Celylith!" he breathed, relief flooding through his entire body. He carefully reached out and placed a hand on his friend's less bloody cheek, his dark expression at odds with the large smile on his face. "By the Valar, I will kill you once we are out of here! Are you alright? What were you thinking? Why aren't you back home? You simply left the palace and chased after us without taking anyone with you??"

"I had … the twins. I wasn't … alone," the other elf mumbled exhaustedly. His head snapped up and he winced openly when Legolas touched one of the still bleeding cuts on his face. "Lord Glorfindel? He is alive?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded quickly and began to examine the chains that bound the other elf to the wall. "Yes, he is alive, don't worry. Estel is with him, which probably means that they're in some sort of trouble now."

He swore softly as he realised that he would need the key to open the shackles; none of the tools he could see here would be able to open the locks.

"Damned be that man," he hissed with a look at Glamir's body. "Where is the key?"

"My lord…" Celylith began, suppressing a cough.

"Don't worry, mellon nín," the blond elf soothed, looking wildly around for something he could use to force the locks open. "I'll have you out of here in no time."

"Legolas…"

"I am so sorry I couldn't come sooner; I tried everything, I promise," Legolas went on, not really noticing that exasperation was slowly beginning to mix with the pain on his silver haired friend's face. "This is all my fault … don't worry, everything will be fine…"

"My lord!" Celylith said again, speaking as loudly as he could at the moment. Legolas actually stopped speaking to look at him with wide eyes, obviously already beginning to look for a serious head injury of some sort, and so he added quickly, "The guards outside have it."

"The guards outside have what, my friend?" Legolas asked gently, asking himself if Celylith had suffered a serious blow to the head. Damn Glamir, he thought furiously, if he had the chance, he would kill him again!

"The key," Celylith said flatly. He almost began to grin when he saw the stunned expression on his friend's face, but remembered his cut lips just in time. "To the chains," he added dryly. "The chains which you wanted to open if I'm not mistaken…"

Legolas didn't say anything but merely looked at him blankly before he turned around, walked over to the two unconscious men, quickly searched them and returned to his friend with a small bunch of keys. Ignoring the pain in his body, he struggled to open the locks, and just before the chains fell away, he gave his silver haired friend a dark, threatening look.

"Not a word about this."

"Of course not, my lord," Celylith agreed somewhat cheekily, readily allowing the other elf to support him. He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask his friend, beginning with how he had managed to get himself into such a decidedly bloody condition once again, but he found that he lacked the strength to do anything than try and stumble into the direction of the door.

"I hope so," Legolas grumbled, trying to keep both himself and Celylith upright. He gave his ashen-faced friend a more serious look. "What about your shoulder? Should I try to relocate it here or…"

"No," the other elf quickly shook his head. "Please, just let's get out of here. It can wait for a few more minutes. Please," he repeated, looking at his friend pleadingly, "I need to see the sky again. Please, Legolas."

"Alright," Legolas nodded reluctantly. "Can you walk, my friend? We need to get into the courtyard, and there are quite a few stairs to climb."

"Of course I can," Celylith said quickly. "Lead the way, my prince, and I will follow."

"That is what got you into trouble in the first place," the other elf reminded him softly while they left the cell behind, neither of them sparing Glamir's body a second glance.

"Maybe," Celylith nodded tiredly, resisting the lure of unconsciousness as best as he could. "But that is the way it should be. I will follow you into the very fires of Mordor if you lead me there, my friend."

"I know," Legolas nodded back, a serious expression on his bloody face. "I know that, Celylith, and I thank you for it."

Celylith merely smiled slightly, but quickly returned his eyes to the floor, doing his best not to stumble. By the time they had walked twenty paces the silver haired elf was nearly unconscious, and so it came that Legolas was so busy supporting him that he nearly collided with Cendan once he rounded the corner next to the place where he had left him and Teonvan.

The dark haired lieutenant ignored both the alarmed expression on the silver haired elf's face and the soft words of explanation the blond one whispered to him and stepped to the side to let them pass, an eyebrow raised as he saw that Legolas was even bloodier than before. He did not ask what had become of Glamir, for that was to be seen so clearly in the elf's eyes that it might as well have been painted onto his forehead, and so he merely followed the two elves in silence.

After a few moments they reached the stairs leading up to the courtyard, and Legolas stopped, one of his arms slung around the semiconscious Celylith's waist and one grasping the other elf's arm he had pulled over his shoulder.

Legolas' eyes wandered over the bodies of the dead guards before fixing on Cendan who had stopped as well, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Teonvan?"

Cendan returned the look evenly, a small, satisfied sparkle appearing and disappearing in his dark blue eyes.

"He is dead."

Something dark and very old flared to life in the elf's eyes before he nodded curtly.

"Good."

He turned back around and helped his silver haired friend to climb the stairs without another word, and, for the first time since he had met him, Cendan truly understood him.




Aragorn was losing the fight, something that was lost neither on him nor on his opponent. Caellan's grin had grown more and more smug these past few minutes, and it had seemed to have become larger as well. It would have been an interesting process to watch, if Caellan hadn't been so intent on trying to kill him.

The young ranger pushed the thought to the back of his mind and blocked the blow that would very nearly have taken his head off, feeling how his arms and especially his shoulder protested against the strain. He might be reckless – that was at least what Legolas and his brothers were telling him all the time – but he wasn't completely daft, and he was very well aware of the fact that he needed to end this, soon. Teonvan's lieutenant might have the intelligence and grace of a retarded troll and no sword fighting technique whatsoever, but he was strong, very strong. Sooner or later he wouldn't be able to get out of the way quickly enough or his own strength would simply give out, and then Caellan would have him right where he wanted him.

No, he thought darkly as he stumbled to the side, he needed to put an end to this – the only problem was that he had absolutely no idea how. Caellan had pushed him back further and further, and they were too far away for Glorfindel or any of his companions to help him.

That thought only served to increase the dread and urgency in his heart. Glorfindel was in no shape to help anyone at the moment, and he really needed to get back to him to make sure that the elf didn't get himself killed. Besides, if this beefy lieutenant killed him, Glorfindel would never forgive himself; he knew very well how seriously the reborn elf from Gondolin took his duty to protect Elrond and all of his house.

Having come to that conclusion, he was still stuck with the problem of how he should convince the dear Caellan to cease his attempts to chop off several of his limbs, he thought ironically as he danced to the side to avoid a stroke that could have hewn a wild boar in two. Before he could follow that train of thought further, he felt the rough texture of stone at his back and realised that his adversary had backed him into a wall – again. With an inward curse whose ferocity shocked even himself to a certain degree he threw himself to the side, only to learn that Caellan was – unfortunately, he added wryly – not quite as stupid as he had thought him to be.

In the moment he felt Caellan's left hand grasp him by his sword arm, he realised that he had jumped to the right every time if he'd had to avoid the larger man's blade in an instinctive attempt to protect his wounded left shoulder. Even someone as stupid as Caellan realised something like that after six or seven times, a dark, sarcastic voice that sounded disconcertingly like Elladan told him inwardly. You never did something like that, especially not when your adversary was built like a troll and possessed the matching temper…

Before his inner voice could lecture him any further, Caellan's grip on his arm tightened and he was swung around and nearly lifted off his feet. Before Aragorn even knew what was happening, the wall rushed up to him at an alarming speed, and he did the only thing he could to avoid being smashed against it headfirst: He twisted to the side as far as he could, vainly trying to turn around fully. He hit the wall with his injured shoulder, and didn't even realise that he had uttered a shocked cry of pain while he was crumbling to the ground, his sword slipping from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

For a few moments, he couldn't even breathe over the agony that filled every bit of his torso, and a second later he was relieved of the whole problem when Caellan took a step forward and kicked him into the ribs with enough force to stop an attacking oliphaunt. Since he was already out of air, Aragorn merely gasped as the other man's foot made contact with his already hurting torso, and even despite the pain that flared up in his side he couldn't cry out.

Another kick hit almost the exact same place and with another breathless gasp the young man tried to curl himself up, desperately trying to draw enough air into his lungs. The next kick hit his hip rather than his ribs, leaving him with the distinct impressions that Caellan had just shattered the bone and must possess toes made of metal.

After another few kicks, Caellan stepped back, not even breathing heavily, and grinned down at the dark haired ranger who was still trying to protect his torso from the worst of the abuse.

"Just like this," he said softly. "This is what I call fun." Aragorn was too busy breathing to answer, and so Caellan shook his head after a moment, carefully gripping his sword in both hands. "I wish we had more time. I would love to show you some of my favourite means to … amuse myself."

With a for a man of his size surprisingly quick movement Caellan jumped forward to bring his sword down onto his defenceless adversary, but from one moment to the other the young ranger stopped gasping loudly for breath and rolled to the side, gaining his feet just as Caellan whirled back around.

The large man scowled at the ranger, a dark, malicious gleam in his eyes, and Aragorn slowly backed away, his eyes darting over the corridor. He eyed his sword longingly, but knew very well that there was no way he would get to it in time. Caellan had just passed it, and there was no way he would get past him without having one or more of his limbs forcefully removed.

Think, his inward voice screamed in a near panic, forcing him to push the pain in his ribs and shoulder back as best as he could, think, by the Valar! Aragorn clenched his teeth as he slowly moved backwards, trailed by a rather irate lieutenant. If he didn't find a weapon in the next few seconds, it would be too late and…

His thoughts trailed off as his eyes fell on a chest-high, extremely ugly candlestick to his left, and a hazy idea slowly began to form in his mind. He had seen one like it before; in Girion's audience chamber, right behind the man's seat. It once again surprised him just how ugly it was, but this time that didn't really interest him all that much. Was interested him more were the – apparently ornamental – spikes that adorned most of the candlestick, the spikes that made the object look like something out of somebody's nightmares.

'Oh, please tell me you are joking,' his inward voice protested, and this time he even smiled. This was something Elladan would definitely say. Before he had time to rethink his plan (his brothers would surely have started laughing uproariously at that rather euphemistic term), he stopped and actually took a step forward, catching Caellan off guard. The lieutenant stopped as well, his eyes wandering over the corridor suspiciously. A moment later he shrugged and started moving again, grinning at the younger man who was edging to the side, as if hoping to avoid him.

Caellan took another step forward, unknowingly crossing the line Aragorn had drawn in his mind. Before the large lieutenant had even fully set his foot down, Aragorn had sprung to the left and grabbed the candlestick. The candles tilted crazily and fell to the floor, and the dark haired man whirled back around, the candlestick raised in front of him like a spear. Caellan didn't have the time to stop his momentum – not that he would have stopped in the first place anyway. He simply didn't realise that he was in any danger, and so surprise was the only emotion that was visible on his face when he stopped abruptly as the spikes burrowed themselves in his chest.

For a few moments he remained upright, his eyes wandering from the object protruding from his chest to the young man in front of him, before he fell to the ground, surprise forever etched onto his features. Aragorn leaned against the wall and absent-mindedly stomped out a candle before it could set anything aflame, his eyes still fixed on Caellan's body and the candlestick that pierced his chest, and finally, after several moments, he began to grin slightly. No one would believe this, he realised with removed amusement. No one, not even the twins.

Deciding that he should really try and find the others before he collapsed on the spot, he slowly began to walk back the way he had come, exhaustion beginning to grow inside of him. When he reached the door leading to the room where they had found all the guards, he was hard-pressed to even keep his eyes open. He made his way past several of Laenro's men who were apparently guarding the entrance, and he was already at the other door through with Girion had disappeared earlier when he heard a shout behind him.

It took him several seconds to turn around without falling flat on his face, but in the end he managed to, looking at Menvan who was wearing an uncommonly large grin.

"We did it!" he exclaimed and beamed at Aragorn who was too surprised to really react. "Sero just sent a messenger. They have secured the gates, even though the Gods only know how many of Girion's people got out of the city before they managed to get to them all. There is still some fighting going on in the western and southern districts, but the courtyard and most of the city is ours!" He paused, looking at the slightly swaying dark haired man in front of him. "Are you alright, ranger?" he asked with some real concern. "Where is Caellan?"

"Dead," Aragorn answered curtly. "He had … too much fun. It's not good for the heart."

Even though Menvan didn't really know what the other man was talking about, he nodded back at him. He knew – just like all of the men – how Teonvan and his lieutenants liked to amuse themselves, and whatever had happened to Caellan, he had deserved it.

"Come," he nodded at Aragorn and walked over to the door leading to Girion's private quarters. "Let's see if they managed to stop our 'lord', shall we?"

Aragorn nodded, too tired and in too much pain to really think of something to say, and a moment later they reached the door where Menvan stopped as if someone had nailed his feet to the floor. Aragorn reached his side a few seconds later, finding it hard to walk because of the pain in his maltreated hip, but the sight in front of him was enough for him to forget about the pain in his body, and a small smile began to grow on his pale face.

The room on whose threshold they were standing was just as dark as the rest of the castle, and it had been a kind of small library once, or so it appeared. Now most of the dark wooden shelves had been thrown over, and books, scrolls and maps were scattered everywhere. A large part of Aragorn winced at the sight. He loved books and could spend hours with the large tomes in his father's library, and to see the books lying all over the place was not a sight he cherished. He grinned inwardly. Erestor would probably suffer an instant stroke if he was here, and his elven father would take the nearest sword and start dismembering the one responsible for this chaos.

Then again, he thought, maybe he wouldn't, because it appeared that it was Glorfindel who was to blame for most of the destruction. There were several of Laenro's and Cendan's men, but they were all standing in the one corner of the room, guarding three guards who looked very, very intimidated. Now that he thought about it, the men guarding the soldiers didn't appear to be any less awed, which was something Aragorn could even understand. After all, even to him who had seen it twice or thrice before the sight of an angry Glorfindel was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Right now the elf in question was pinning Girion to the wall and didn't even seem to realise that the man was dangling several inches above the floor. All the injuries on his body seemed to fade against the thunderous, very, very dangerous expression on his face, and there was a terrible light in his eyes that seemed to fill the entire room. Aragorn shook his head, half-amused and half as awed as the rest of the men. Glorfindel in a fury was indeed a sight to behold, and he felt – not for the first time – a small stab of sympathy for the balrog the elf had faced all these years ago.

"…want to do now, human?" Glorfindel's icy voice could be heard, cutting through the silent room like a knife through butter. "Well? You are not so strong now, without all your guards to hide behind, are you?"

He tightened his grip and brought his face closer to Girion's obviously terrified one, his other hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger so that the white knuckles showed through the bruised skin.

"You shouldn't have hurt my friends. I don't care what you or your men do to me, but no one, no one, harms my lord's family or their friends. You will pay for every bruise they have sustained, that I swear by Elbereth's stars, and from what I've seen that will take quite some time. Too bad for you."

Aragorn gave Menvan a quick look, and saw immediately that the man wouldn't step forward and stop Glorfindel. He couldn't really blame him, the young ranger thought to himself; besides, Girion deserved death tenfold. But not by their hands, he added inwardly. They were strangers here, outsiders that had no business judging the dark haired man. He was in no doubt that any of the men in this city would convict Girion to death, but it was them who would have to do it. Not he or Legolas, and not Glorfindel.

He took a deep breath and slowly began to walk forward, careful not to move too stealthily. He was sure that the elf was aware of his surroundings, but he saw no reason not to be cautious. The last thing he wanted was to die now because Glorfindel had mistaken him for an enemy.

"Let him go, my friend," he said softly. "He is not yours to kill. Let him be judged by those whose families and friends he's killed."

Glorfindel either ignored him or hadn't even realised he was being addressed, and so Aragorn took another step forward, standing so close that he could have reached out and touched his old teacher, something he was careful not to do.

"Glorfindel," he began in low Sindarin, "Daro. E ú farn beleg boe degich chon. Leitho chon, hîr nín. Nestatham."

"That is not the point, Estel," Glorfindel retorted in Westron, apparently not even realising that Aragorn had spoken in Elvish. "You shouldn't have to heal – and yet you do. It is his," he tightened his grip on Girion's shirtfront, "fault. He has to pay."

"There has been enough killing for one day," Aragorn shook his head softly and finally reached out to put a hand on the golden haired elf's shoulder. "Let it be enough, my friend."

Glorfindel didn't move for several moments, his hard, angry eyes boring into Girion's, and finally he released his grip and let the man drop like something very dirty he had just picked up, a disgusted expression on his face.

"You are right," he told Aragorn without taking his eyes off the other man. "I won't sully myself by killing something as worthless as him."

Aragorn wordlessly tightened his hold on the elf's shoulder, feeling tired more than anything else. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up at home, was that too much to ask for? Apparently it was, he thought wryly as he watched a couple of Laenro's men rush forward and take a hold of Girion who was still staring at Glorfindel with wide eyes. Aragorn smiled slightly, trying to ignore the way the room was beginning to tilt to the side. He couldn't really blame the other man, and to someone who had never before seen an infuriated elf lord, Glorfindel could be a shock indeed.

The floor was beginning to start moving as well, in a rather annoyingly unsteady fashion, and Aragorn tried to lean against the wall as nonchalantly as possible. There was absolutely no way he would collapse in front of Menvan who was coming closer now, a slightly stunned expression on his face as he looked at his former lord.

Menvan stopped in front of the rather pale ranger, doing his best to keep some distance between himself and the elf. He hadn't trusted his kind to begin with, and this little spectacle hadn't done anything to change his mind. They were unpredictable, and, if he was perfectly honest with him, more than a little bit frightening.

"Why didn't you let him kill him?" he asked curiously. "He'd have every right to do so."

"No," Glorfindel shook his head for the dark haired ranger, "No, I hadn't, and neither did he. This … man," he shot Girion a dark look, "is your prisoner, not ours. If anyone has a right to judge him, it is you and the other people of this town. This city had suffered under him far longer than we've been here."

"And for that he'll die," Menvan nodded practically, one of his hands pressed against the blood-encrusted cut in his side. "Whether he dies now or later is a triviality if you ask me."

"Excuse me for interrupting," Aragorn remarked softly from his position at the wall. "But what about Legolas and the others? Has there been any word?"

"No," Menvan nodded seriously, a concerned expression flittering over his face. "There has been no word of your friends, Laenro or the lieutenant yet. I wouldn't worry yet, though," he added quickly as he saw how the others' faces darkened. "Our men are just beginning to search the castle thoroughly. Some men appeared some minutes ago with a couple of prisoners they brought up from the dungeons. They said Lieutenant Cendan had told them that he would join them later."

"So Cendan, Laenro and Legolas are alone in the dungeons?" Aragorn asked incredulously. "Great Manwë, and he tells me I am reckless!"

"You are," Glorfindel nodded helpfully.

"Thank you," Aragorn retorted wryly, leaning back against the wall once more as it became clear that his body didn't approve of foolish things such as trying to stand unaided.

"You are most welcome, young one."

The ranger merely glared at his friend, and Menvan decided in a split second that the elf wasn't that bad after all. If there was one thing he would publicly, unhesitatingly and repeatedly agree on, it was that the ranger was among the most reckless beings he had ever met. He was still mentally debating if he should interrupt the argument the two of them were having (the ranger insisted on trying to find his friends while the elf's statements could concisely be summed up with "over my dead body"), a small commotion broke out behind them, and Menvan, Aragorn and Glorfindel turned around, for a moment afraid that maybe Girion was trying to escape.

Aragorn relaxed after a second when he saw that Girion was still being constrained by three guards, and that it had been only Laenro who had entered the room. The brown haired man ignored the greetings his men called out and simply kept walking, his eyes fixed on Girion's face with a strange intensity. Aragorn narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied the approaching man, distracted by the fact that he was very busy thanking every Vala he could think of at the moment. If Laenro was here and – as it seemed – relatively unharmed, there was also the chance that Cendan, Legolas and, hopefully, Celylith were alive and would be here soon.

The young ranger was still contemplating these thoughts and was too distracted to give the other man his full attention, and so he was just as surprised as everybody else when Laenro stopped in front of Girion and his guards, but only to grab the dark-clad lord by the throat and throw him to the floor. The men who had been guarding him stepped back, momentarily confused, and Aragorn pushed himself off the wall.

"Laenro! What are you doing?"

The other man didn't reply and continued pinning the struggling Girion to the ground, who finally stopped moving as Laenro pressed a knife against his throat. Aragorn exchanged a quick look with Glorfindel before he reluctantly began moving, a strange numbness filling him. No matter how much he tried to deny it to himself, he knew with crystal clarity what had happened to push Laenro so far. The man had hated Girion before, yes, but Aragorn was sure that he would have been more than willing to let his former lord be judged by the people, considering how certain the passing of the death penalty was.

"Laenro," he repeated, slowly walking up to the man, "What is going on?"

"They killed her," was all the brown haired man ground out, his eyes never leaving Girion's face. "Just like that. She is dead."

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had known Ethoani was dead, he had known it from the moment he had seen the blank expression on Laenro's face. He had never met the girl (well, not knowingly at least), but Legolas had told him about everything she had done for them, and even before now the fact that she had saved his brothers had been a debt he would have never been able to repay. And now, he thought darkly, she was dead. Dead because of him, and because she had gone back to save the twins, Celylith and Glorfindel…

The ranger's guilty thoughts were interrupted by Girion's sneering voice that sounded slightly pressed, something that was rather understandable with a knife pressing against his throat.

"Ah, you are talking about the girl, I presume?" he asked, appearing remarkably nonchalant for someone in his position. "Who was she? A friend? Or a lover?"

Laenro's face paled even more and he pressed the dagger's blade a bit harder against the other's throat, his hands beginning to shake with fury.

"She is … she was my sister. And you," he increased the pressure even more, "are dead."

Girion opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Glorfindel's calm voice, who had followed Aragorn over to the men. The elf's voice was cold and emotionless, the deadly light still shining brightly in his eyes.

"If you value your life, human, be silent. Speak another word and I'll kill you myself."

The elf's words seemed to remind Laenro of his goal, and he leaned forward with the very obvious intention of cutting the dark haired man's throat. Aragorn cast a quick look around and saw that neither Menvan nor any other of the men showed any indication of wanting to stop Laenro. And who could blame them, he asked himself tiredly. He didn't even know why he was trying to save Girion's life, he truly didn't.

Aragorn shook his head and took another step forward, tearing himself out of his thoughts.

"Don't," he said quickly, stopping only a foot away from the two men. "Don't kill him."

"Why?" Laenro hissed, an indescribable gleam in his eyes. "Why not?"

"Let him be judged by the people of this town," Aragorn said softly, trying to come up with something that would convince Laenro not to murder the other man on the spot. "If you kill him now, you simply give him what he wants. Think of what Ethoani would have wished you to do. Would she have wanted you to kill him in cold blood?"

For a moment, Aragorn thought he was really getting through to the other man. Laenro seemed to hesitate for several seconds, but then the brown haired man slowly turned to look at him, his eyes cold and hard as ice.

"Yes," he retorted slowly and evenly. "That is exactly what she would have wanted me to do."

Aragorn had still not grasped the full meaning of Laenro's words when the other man whirled back around. In a matter of half a second Laenro had removed his dagger from Girion's neck and had brought it down, burying it in the dark haired man's throat.

Girion's eyes grew wide and the mocking sparkle that had never truly left them faded and died as he realised what was happening, but he didn't have the air to scream as blood welled up inside his throat. Only when the sound of the knife point hit stone with a scratching, nasty sound Laenro stopped pushing it down, apparently undeterred by the shocked silence around him or the blood that was beginning to pour out of the lethal wound.

After only seconds the dark haired man's struggles died, and only when he had stopped moving entirely and his eyes were staring brokenly at the room's ceiling Laenro began to move. He slowly stood to his feet, not even bothering to remove his knife, and looked down at the man he had just killed for long moments. He finally turned around without giving Girion's body or Aragorn and the others another look and walked into the direction of the door. Not one of the men tried to stop him, and so he soon disappeared out of the silent room, nothing on his face, not even the tiniest bit of satisfaction.

After several long moments Menvan tore himself out of the kind of trance that had descended over the humans and the elf and nodded at his men to leave the room which they did only too gladly. When the last of his men had left, the brown haired man turned back around to Aragorn and Glorfindel, who were still staring at dead man at their feet.

"It was a quicker death than Girion has granted many of his victims," he told them, his eyes dark and absolutely serious. "It was more than he deserved."

With a last, cold look at Girion's body Menvan turned around, and a moment later Glorfindel reached out to steady Aragorn and began to follow him. The young ranger was still too stunned by what had just happened to protest against the blond elf's actions, and only when they stopped on the threshold did he look back at the dead man who looked surprisingly small as he lay amidst the broken shelves and scattered books in a pool of his own blood.

Maybe Menvan was right, Aragorn thought as he looked at Girion. Maybe Girion had deserved this, but what frightened him far more than this was the realisation that he understood Laenro's actions and that, deep in his heart, he wished that he had been the one who had thrust that knife into the man's throat.

A small tug on his arm brought him back to reality, and Aragorn turned back to Glorfindel and gently grasped his arm, both to steady himself and to help keep the elf upright. They began to make their way back to the courtyard through the castle's many corridors, leaving the town's dead ruler behind in the dark room, unmourned and as alone in death as he had been in life.




"Sir?"

Only silence answered the softly spoken word, and the speaker sighed exasperatedly.

"My lord?"

The thus addressed man didn't move an inch, apparently unaware that someone was speaking to him. Halyo came to the instant, spontaneous decision that this was the worst assignment he'd ever been on, which didn't mean too much considering that it was only his third. Still, he was sure that no matter on how many missions he'd be sent in the future, they wouldn't get close to this … disaster.

He gave his superior a dark look and took a step closer to him, urgency rushing through every part of his body. They needed to get away from here, soon. Very soon. Preferably now.

"My lord?" he tried again. "Sangwar?

The older man kept looking straight forward, into the direction of the city they had left behind about an hour ago, but finally he turned around to his younger companion, a strangely unconcerned expression on his face. He raised an almost amused eyebrow as he looked at the worried countenance of the other man.

"Rather anxious to leave, aren't you, young one?"

Halyo smiled wryly at him and gestured over to the town and the thin coils of smoke that were visible over some of the houses in the distance.

"If you'll forgive me for saying so, my lord, the reason for that is rather obvious, is it not? I would like to get away from here before the good and gentle townsfolk of Baredlen decide that burning down houses is boring and that burning us at a stake is far more amusing."

"They might come to that conclusion, yes," Sangwar nodded friendly, still not moving an inch. "However, I think that the 'good and gentle townsfolk of Baredlen' are quite busy ransacking and burning the houses of Girion's followers. That will take some time."

Halyo obviously bit back a rather sarcastic response and began checking on their horses once again. While the younger man was busy with their mounts and their pack animal, Sangwar turned back around to the city at his back, not nearly as anxious as his companion. They were hidden by a copse of trees at the moment, and he was rather sure that, if someone had even thought of positioning guards at the gates, they were concentrated on the eastern walls, the ones separating them from the Easterlings, not the western.

Sangwar shook his head inwardly, once again thanking his instincts that had told him insistently that they shouldn't attend the elf's execution today, invitation from Girion or no invitation. The man smiled slightly. It had been one of his better decisions in his opinion, and it had been made just in time, too. Had they been anywhere near that gallery, they would be either dead or captured now, that was one thing Sangwar was very sure about. Since they hadn't been there and had already been almost at the west gate when fighting had broken out, they had managed to seize the momentary confusion to get out of the city without anyone even noticing them.

The older delegate sighed softly and forced himself to turn back around to his colleague, inwardly asking himself just what their liege would say to these particular developments. He didn't really need to think long about it. Their lord would not be happy about them.

"It might be a good thing after all," the younger man tried to lighten the older delegate's mood, more than a little scared of their liege's reaction himself. "Girion would have turned on us sooner or later."

"Sooner than we would have turned on him?" Sangwar asked straightforwardly. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

"I think he would have," Halyo nodded his head emphatically. "He is insane."

"Was," the other man stressed. "The chances of him being still alive are about as big as an orc's chances of survival on the seventh circle of Minas Tirith."

"I won't shed a tear over him," the other man grumbled softly. "He was insane and completely insufferable."

"That may very well be," Sangwar nodded, a mildly threatening sparkle in his eyes. "But our lord will – figuratively speaking, of course. In fact you hadn't realised, young one, we have just failed in our mission. I doubt he will be very happy about it."

Halyo bowed his head in an attempt to hide the fear on his face.

"No, sir, he won't be."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you," Sangwar said nonchalantly, walking over to his horse to check the animal's cinch. "If there is someone who will be held responsible, it is me, not you. You are merely my apprentice; it is I who is … who was in charge of this mission."

"This is hardly your fault!" Halyo protested. "If Girion had only listened to you, none of this would have happened!"

"Yet he did not," Sangwar shrugged. "Let's view this from the more positive side: This little … disaster is a very important lesson, after all. Is it not?"

"Well," Halyo began, wondering inwardly just why Sangwar couldn't just tell him all this when they were several dozen miles away from this place. Or better yet, across the Anduin in more civilised areas. "Yes, of course. It does teach one that one should kill an elf when one has the chance and should not toy with him."

"Yes," Sangwar nodded, "That's one part of it. You should never underestimate the Firstborn, young one. They may be a fading people, but they aren't completely gone yet. As long as they are here in these parts, they are a force to be reckoned with."

Halyo merely snorted and shook his head.

"The elves? They are hiding in their woods and settlements. They are no threat."

"Oh?" Sangwar raised an amused eyebrow. "Then explain to me what just happened back there." Before the younger man could come up with a reply, he raised his hand and interrupted him. "Don't trouble yourself. You can't, which just proves my point. I can't prove it of course, but the elves and that ranger somehow managed to break up the alliance with the Easterlings, the Valar alone know how. And there is also the small matter of them instigating the first apparently successful revolt in this city for over a hundred and fifty years." He shook his head. "They are either incredibly lucky or incredibly shrewd, I just don't know which."

He didn't wait for the other man to say something and nodded at their horses.

"Come on then. We should leave now. Just because the townsfolk may be too busy to look for us at the moment doesn't mean that the Easterling are."

Halyo inclined his head wordlessly at the older man, and within minutes they had mounted their horses and had turned them south-west, into the direction that would take them to the Great River in the end. Halyo, with the pack animal in tow, was riding at the front while Sangwar was following a bit more slowly, so deep in thought that he gave his surroundings only the most basic attention.

One lesson they had learned here was indeed never to underestimate the Elves, he thought to himself. His apprentice would do well to remember that, unless he wanted that the last thing he would ever see was the blade of an elf's sword – something that, considering their line of work, wasn't even all that unlikely.

That fact was nothing new to him, though. He had always done his best to avoid elves whenever he could, something he had never regretted – and most likely never would either. What was more interesting in his opinion, however, was that ruling solely by fear got you nowhere, as the late Girion had most probably realised as well before his death.

You could try to rule by terror alone, and suppress all opposition there was in your realm with the most brutal means imaginable, but in the end it availed you nothing. Even with a population that was as deeply cowed as Baredlen's it hadn't needed more than the smallest spark to ignite them into rebellion. It could be the sudden emergence of a leader, or a famine, or a lost battle, or … some troublesome elves. Yes, if Girion had been just a bit more intelligent or a bit less obsessed with his war, he might have had enough sense to kill the elves once he had got his hands on them, but in the end it didn't really matter. If he had done that, it would have been someone or something else to prompt the people to rebel – perhaps not now, perhaps not even this year, but someday not too far in the future. The point was that one couldn't plan for all eventualities. In the end, something always happened to destroy your plans, no matter how good and carefully laid out they were.

And that, Sangwar concluded darkly, was why you always, always, had a backup plan, and another for the one after it and the one after it. If you were planning on a truly large scale – like his lord was – it didn't matter if one part of the plan failed, because there were always more than enough arrangements that ensured that no real harm was done. That was something Girion had never understood, too obsessed had he been with his goal.

Halyo had been right, the older man nodded to himself. Girion had been insane, but his lord was most certainly not. His lord knew that one did not toy with dangerous beings but rather killed them as quickly as possible, and he also knew that there were other means with which one could ensure one's rule. More efficient, more civilised things like persuasion and bribery and subtle threats, or secret alliances, illusions and deception. In the latter three his liege was indeed the most skilled individual he had ever met, and most likely the most skilled individual that was residing here in Middle-earth, except maybe the Dark Lord himself.

No, he thought with a sort of quiet hope, all this would be no more than a minor inconvenience, not even a real setback. He just hoped that his liege would see it the same way. With an inward headshake he took his thoughts off that matter and returned his full attention to his surroundings, and with a last look at the city that was slowly disappearing in the distance he spurred on his horse to catch up with his companion.

A few hours later they had left Baredlen and the Ered Dhuir far behind, and even their trail was quickly swallowed up by the sleet and the snow, and no trace was left of the three horses that were steadily making their way into the direction of the Brown Lands.




There, finally. He had been waiting for it the entire time, but now that it was happening, he was actually quite surprised.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and bit back a vicious curse – elf lords did not curse in front of other people, especially not when said people were humans – and blindly reached out with his right hand to prevent himself from falling to the floor as his strength finally gave out. His fumbling fingers closed around a dark tapestry just in time, saving the fair haired elf from a graceless fall in front of Aragorn and a couple of men that had volunteered to lead them back to the main entrance.

With a silent prayer of thanks to Ilúvatar and the Valar Glorfindel tightened his grasp on the fabric that was apparently meant to depict a battle scene or something of that sort, and while he was still thinking about how he could make this look as if he was merely leaning against the wall because he wanted to study the tapestry's design more closely, a rather bloody, slightly trembling hand appeared in front of his eyes.

The elf lord resisted the urge to ignore the appendage that had appeared out of thin air and slowly raised his eyes, finally seeing the hand's owner. As he had expected, it belonged to Aragorn who was standing next to him, swaying back and forth in a manner that reminded Glorfindel strongly of the deck of a ship at sea. Fighting down the nausea that rose inside of him at that unwanted mental image, he managed to pull himself up slightly and did his best to appear as nonchalant as an elf clinging to a tapestry could.

"Yes?"

The young man in front of him raised an eyebrow, and for a moment he looked so much like Elrond that Glorfindel did a double take. It should not be allowed that humans resembled elves to this degree, he thought darkly as he tried to push the pain in his body to the back of his mind. It was disconcerting to say the least, not to mention confusing.

Aragorn merely looked at the golden haired elf, who was looking impressively casual for someone whose upright position could only be attributed to a piece of cloth.

"May I offer you some assistance?" he asked, slightly amused.

"Why?" Glorfindel asked back nonchalantly.

'Because you look about one second away from losing consciousness,' Aragorn thought inwardly, but knew better than to voice that thought. If there was one thing that one could always count on, it was Glorfindel's pride and his unwillingness to accept help in any way.

"Oh, just a thought," he almost shrugged, but remembered what his shoulder would say to that just in time. "I am going to the courtyard and search for Legolas. And since you, and I quote, 'will not leave me out of your sight again', I thought…"

"Go on like this, Estel," Glorfindel ground out between gritted teeth, but grasped the ranger's offered hand nonetheless. "I am already cataloguing all the things I will tell your father. One thing more or less will hardly matter, don't you think so?"

"Is that so?" Aragorn asked amusedly, grasping the elf's arm and doing his best to somehow steer the two of them down the corridor into the direction the three other men had taken. He was not sure how much farther he would be able to walk, but was more than willing to try and find out.

"Oh yes," the elf nodded, knowing perfectly well that Aragorn was trying to distract him. He was devious, Glorfindel thought darkly, doing his best not to stumble. Devious, just like Elrond and the twins. He coughed softly and nodded again for emphasis. "Let's see… I think it all started with disobeying King Thranduil's orders. You continued with violating the laws of hospitality, behaving unbelievably reckless, getting yourself killed at least twice by the guards of some insane man, impaling people on candlesticks, disrespecting your elders…"

"Don't forget nearly being eaten by wolves," Aragorn added wryly. It took him a moment to realise what he had just said, and if he had had the chance, he would have hit himself.

Next to him Glorfindel tensed a little and arched a golden eyebrow.

"Wolves?"

"Nothing serious happened," Aragorn hurried to explain and saw to his relief that the main doors were already in sight. "It was not nearly as bad as Teonvan and his spikes."

Glorfindel froze next to him, and this time Aragorn did smack himself – not too hard, though. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

Glorfindel reached out and grasped Aragorn's arm more tightly, momentarily halting the man's movements.

"Spikes? What spikes? Who is Teonvan? What are you talking about, young one?"

"Nothing," Aragorn shook his head and finally managed to pull the elf forward again. "Nothing. Don't pay me any attention."

"I try not to," the elf retorted, his eyes still fixed suspiciously on the young man. "Trust me, no amount of experience can prepare you for the likes of you or the twins."

"I resent that," Aragorn said darkly and stopped on the threshold of the main doors, blinking as light assaulted his eyes. The sleet had stopped falling for the moment, but grey clouds were still covering the heavens, even though they appeared to be of a somewhat lighter colour. Then again, he might only be imagining it. "I am not as bad as the twins."

"No," Glorfindel shook his head wryly. "You are not. You and the prince are worse."

He would have said more, but all humour fled from his mind when they stepped out of the building and into the courtyard. Most of the area was littered with fallen men, and many of them looked as if they would never get up again. The castle appeared to be firmly in the hands of Laenro's and Cendan's men, many of which could be seen searching for friends or comrades on the field below.

Glorfindel had seen such scenes many times in the past, in more places than he cared to remember, and he still hadn't got used to them. These men had had so few years ahead of them, and to see so much death and destruction and so many mortal lives cut short was something that always filled him with a deep sadness. It wasn't that he felt guilty about having killed a few of these people – it had been them or him, and besides, they had deserved it – but a part of him regretted deeply that it had come to this.

Aragorn tightened his grip on the elf's arm and began to pull him over to the stairs leading down to the courtyard. His eyes swept over the yard, looking intently for a sign of Legolas, Celylith or the others and taking in the sight in front of him. After a moment's hesitation he decided that Glorfindel needed his help now and that running off to look for his friends would help no one right now (besides, he would most likely don't even get down to the dungeons), and so he gently but firmly pressed the elf down onto the stairs. It was a testament to Glorfindel's exhaustion that he only threatened Aragorn once with a lifetime of cleaning the stables back at Rivendell and twice with dismemberment before he allowed the ranger press him down onto the stone steps.

Aragorn suppressed a smug grin at his success that he knew Glorfindel would never forgive him and tried to decide what to do next. He knew that he should do something, but the pain and exhaustion that was pulsing through his body made it nearly impossible to think. Before he even knew what was happening, he was sitting next to Glorfindel, and while he was still trying to explain to himself just when his legs had developed a mind of their own and had decided that he needed to sit down, someone stepped in front of him.

It took Aragorn quite a long time to realise that that someone had one of his hands on his uninjured shoulder, having used it to press him down next to Glorfindel, and even longer to identify the man as Menvan. The middle-sized man frowned darkly at him and the fair haired elf, about the most expressive display of emotion he had ever seem him on his face.

"Stay here," he told Aragorn and shortly shifted his eyes to Glorfindel. "Both of you. I'll get a healer."

"A healer?" Aragorn echoed unbelievingly, squinting up at Menvan's blurry face. It appeared that the man's face had turned brown while his hair had assumed the colour of his face – a highly unusual behaviour in his opinion. "Whatever for?"

Glorfindel nodded emphatically next to him, and Menvan merely looked at the two beings in front of him before he snorted and turned around. He began walking down the stairs leading into the courtyard, grumbling something about irritating elves, even more irritating rangers and his overwhelming desire to hurt both, and Glorfindel blinked twice (which gave him a rather disconcerting resemblance with a blond, rather plucked and bloody owl) before he slowly turned his head to look at Aragorn who was examining the bleeding wound in his shoulder.

"I don't think he is very happy with you, Estel," he informed the man loftily. "Just where did you find him and the rest of his men anyway?"

"Well," Aragorn retorted absent-mindedly, his eyes still fixed on his injury. "He is the second-in-command of the man who was the first lieutenant of the captain whose men captured Legolas."

The man paused, re-thinking what he had just said. Second-in-command of the first lieutenant of the captain. Yes, that sounded about right. If Glorfindel was in any way confused by his words, he did not show it, however. Then again, Aragorn thought, irrational laughter bubbling inside of him, elf lords did not show confusion in front of others, did they?

"He is one of them?" Glorfindel asked sharply, his eyes narrowing in a way that did not bode very well for Menvan's immediate future. "Well, if that's not … interesting."

"My friend," Aragorn sighed deeply, "Believe me, he…"

He did not manage to finish his sentence, for his attention was directed to three figures that were just emerging to their left, stepping out of the door leading down to the dungeons. Aragorn squinted despite the relatively low light and did his best to ignore the faint feeling that was beginning to spread inside of him. Please, let it be Legolas and Celylith, please, let it be Legolas and Celylith, please…

A moment later relief flooded through his entire being, and he began to smile broadly, feeling as if not only one, but at least a dozen huge stones had been lifted off his chest. Even though his eyes weren't overly co-operative at the moment, he had no problem identifying Legolas' lithe figure among the other two. The elven prince seemed to have acquired several new wounds since he had last seen him, including a torn left forearm and a large cut on the same, and he also looked a lot like a person who had just fallen head first into a pot of red paint. Legolas stumbled more than walked, even though that was something the elf would most certainly not admit, and, as a whole, looked about as lively and healthy as Glorfindel.

The man felt how the smile on his lips widened even more as his eyes reluctantly identified the person Legolas was keeping upright. He had never thought that he would be so happy to see that stubborn wood-elf again, he thought to himself, grinning like a maniac at Celylith's approaching figure. Said wood-elf appeared to have got on the wrong side of an ill-tempered but well-armed mountain troll, with his numerous cuts and bruises and the definitely dislocated shoulder, but he was alive, even thought apparently only one step away from unconsciousness, something that could probably also be said about Legolas.

Aragorn was too exhausted to try and stand up and merely remained where he was, scanning the two elves for additional, hidden injuries. A few seconds later the two elves came to a stop in front of them, flanked by the third person that Aragorn identified (rather late, he admitted to himself) as Cendan, who looked relatively uninjured. The lieutenant merely nodded at Aragorn, gave Glorfindel a brief look and turned around to find his second-in-command, apparently considering his duty done.

For a few moments, the four merely looked at each other, and Aragorn finally opened his mouth to speak, giving Legolas a disapproving look.

"So you finally managed to tear my stitches."

"And you managed to acquire yet another hole," the blond elf retorted in just the same tone of voice. "Well done, dúnadan."

"Thank you, I'm doing what I can, elf."

"That I can see. You really are quite intent on getting yourself killed, aren't you?"

"And you two," Glorfindel grumbled quite audibly, "are beginning to give me a headache."

Aragorn and Legolas gave each other a last mock glare that couldn't conceal the relief in their eyes before the elven prince redirected his attention to the elf lord in front of him. He inclined his head while he carefully lowered his silver haired friend down onto the stairs.

"Forgive us, my lord. I am very glad to see that you still live – and that after a fight at Strider's side. I am most impressed."

Aragorn ignored the elf's words and shifted slightly in an attempt to get closer to the silver haired elf in order to examine his injuries.

"Celylith?" he asked softly. "Are you…"

"Awake?" the elf asked wryly. "Barely, I think. I am not completely sure about it, but I doubt that I would dream about you, Strider."

"No," Legolas interjected ironically as he allowed himself to sink down onto the stairs next to Celylith. "You usually dream about pretty maidens, especially that one from…"

"No tormenting my patients, please," Aragorn scolded the elven prince.

"I agree," Glorfindel nodded at the young ranger who was feebly trying to assert the elf's injuries before he turned to the younger elf. "You realise what our continued survival means, do you not? You owe me that pair of daggers you were talking about, pen-neth. I told you everything would be just fine, didn't I?"

"You, my friend, are not 'fine'," Aragorn interrupted the two elves and raised his head wearily. "None of you is."

Glorfindel thought about denying the man's accusation, but in that moment he shifted slightly and moved his left shoulder in the process. All thoughts of insisting that he was perfectly alright disappeared from his mind as hot pain flared through his broken collarbone, and suddenly speaking seemed to be an overrated, highly unnecessary commodity. Legolas seemed to think about protesting as well, but he gave his own, blood-covered appearance a quick look and apparently thought better of it.

Legolas watched Aragorn's rather clumsy attempts to determine the amount of Celylith's injury – which only fuelled the worry in his heart, because Aragorn was the un-clumsiest human he had ever known – and finally turned his attention to Glorfindel, who looked just like someone who had just fallen down a very, very high cliff.

"What about Girion, my lord? Did he escape?"

Glorfindel blinked, his face of an even fairer colour than his hair.

"No," he shook his head. "No, he did not. He is dead."

Legolas nodded, not appearing surprised in the slightest.

"Laenro?"

Glorfindel nodded, and Aragorn's head snapped up, a tense expression on his face that was quickly followed by a swiftly hidden wince of pain.

"What about Teonvan? And Glamir?"

Legolas simply shook his head, a rather satisfied expression on his face, and Aragorn relaxed minutely.

"Good," he unknowingly echoed Legolas' earlier words. He looked from the elven prince to Celylith and back, arching an amused eyebrow. "Tell me, my friend, what happened to the two of you? You look as if you'd found that fire-breathing dragon after all!"

Celylith may have been well on his way into unconsciousness, but the mention of a fascinating creature that may be in need of sympathy was enough to rouse him.

"A dragon?" he asked weakly, prying open his eyelids with a struggle. "Here? Where?"

"It is only a joke," Legolas said quickly, glaring at Aragorn who was either too busy or too exhausted to notice. "There is no dragon here, neither of the fire-breathing nor of any other kind – I think."

"You think?" Celylith repeated, curiosity appearing in his dark blue eyes. "So there might be!"

Legolas hung his head and fought the urge to do what his body wanted him to, namely to simply lean back and allow himself to go to sleep.

"See what you've done, Estel."

"See what you have done!" an outraged voice could be heard some paces to their right, and Legolas closed his eyes tightly, wishing himself to be far, far away from here. He concentrated as firmly as he could on losing consciousness, but try as he might, he was not able to. Typical, he thought darkly. When you needed to pass out, you couldn't.

When Legolas finally realised that he would stay conscious for some time longer, he reluctantly opened his eyes, and decided a split second later that he had been wrong after all. There was a dragon here, and it was marching into their direction with a thunderous expression on its face, an air of appalled reproach surrounding it. The elf would nearly have closed his eyes again. It was a strange thing that he had been less afraid of Teonvan, Girion and Glamir than of Thesieni when she was in a bad mood.

The grey haired woman picked her way through the courtyard, nodding once or twice at some other healers who had arrived from the town to help the fallen men. Sero was walking a few steps in front of her, looking very much as if he wanted to become part of the scenery, no matter how bloody.

"Just look at you!" Thesieni told the ranger and the three elves, two of which looked wide-eyed and astonished at the irate woman. "I told you this was a foolish idea, didn't I? It's a miracle that you didn't get yourselves cut into pieces. It would have served you right, mind you!"

Aragorn had a lot of experience ignoring someone's outraged tirades, but even if he hadn't, he wouldn't have paid the elderly healer any attention at all. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the two tall figures that were following the woman, wearing identical dark cloaks with thrown back hoods and just as identical expressions of reproach on their faces. One was leaning heavily on the other and was wearing a thick white bandage around his head that hid most of his almost black hair and his pointed ears, while the other, whose dark hair and ears were plainly visible, was as pale as a sheet and moved decidedly stiffly.

The young ranger smiled broadly, the pain, fear and stress of the last few weeks falling away from him as if they had never existed. He should have known that the twins wouldn't stay where he had left them. None save maybe their grandmother and sometimes their father had ever stood up to them in an argument, and not even Thesieni had stood a chance, it appeared.

The two dark haired elves were coming slowly closer, their eyes wandering over the chaotic courtyard in an appraising manner, and Aragorn felt how Glorfindel and Legolas relaxed as well, even despite Thesieni who was currently busy examining Celylith's shoulder and telling all of them just what she would do to the next elf she met. A part of him was furious that the twins hadn't heeded his wishes, but a larger part was just glad to see them alive and, relatively speaking, well.

A few moments later, Elladan and Elrohir came to halt in front of the stairs, looking very much as if they had just had an encounter with something huge and prone to violence. The two of them looked at the four beings in front of them who all appeared to be only a minute away from unconsciousness, relief shining brightly in their grey eyes that were clouded with barely suppressed pain. Elrohir leaned a bit harder onto his brother's supporting arm and arched an amused eyebrow.

"So," he began, his eyes wandering over the corpses in the courtyard and the people hastening to and fro, "Did we miss anything important?"





TBC...

mellon nín - my friend
Daro. E ú farn beleg boe degich chon - Stop (it). He (is) not important enough for you to kill.
Leitho chon, hîr nín. Nestatham - Let him go, my lord. We will heal.
dúnadan - 'Man of the West', ranger
pen-neth - young one

sighs happily So, the bad guys are all dead. Serves them right, too. And I didn't kill Celylith after all, isn't that nice? Very much so, I think... g So, this insane little tale is nearing its end now, meaning that there is only one chapter left! Yes, I know, it's hard to believe... Be that as it may, it WILL be here, most likely in a week. I'll try to get it out Tuesday, but I am not promising anything. Reviews might help, just as they helped to get this chapter out a day earlier. g So: Review? Please?

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Additional A/N:

LOTRFaith - Well, things like those usually don't happen to me, that's just it. I hate it when stories get out of hand. I mean, I had planned 30-32 chapters anyway, so one more isn't that bad, but still... grrr It's my characters' fault, I'm telling you. They just can't keep their mouths shut. g No, you can't have Cendan now. In fact, I don't think you can have him at all. I only clone dead characters, like Nólad from AEFAE, and Cendan's isn't dead - yet- evil grin Sorry.
Sirithiliel - LOL, well "Yay" sure does sound cheerful! Great you still like it, and thanks for telling me!
Aratfeniel - Uhm, yes, we're all insane here. That does in fact explain quite a lot. g It's great to see that there are other people who enjoy cackling madly as well. There's nothing quite as amusing as cackling madly, isn't it! Most certainly! tuns off cackling VERY madly
AngelMouse5 - I know, I know. I need a new hobby. 38 pages is a bit extreme for anyone... g Hmm, now that I think about it I have to admit that I have absolutely no idea with what Glorfindel threatened Aragorn. You could always ask him personally, I guess... And about the reviews: I am extremely surprised myself, believe me! I never thought I'd get more than 1100 or so... g
Bailey - Let me see, what's wrong with posting double chapters... You would start to get bored. It would be too much to take in at once. Besides, I would have to edit two chapters at once, and that's something for which I definitely don't have the time. g This isn't the last chapter though, there's one more to come. I'm sure Aragorn and Legolas and all the others will be thrilled. g
Deana - blinks Glorfindel is half-dead, Aragorn is full of holes, Legolas has cuts and God knows what, Ethoani is dead, Celylith may be, and all you worry about is Legolas' head? shakes her own Really... Trust me, he has other problems at the moment - loads of them, to be honest...
Cosmic Castaway - Yes indeed, what have I got up my sleeve... squirrel pokes head out of shirt sleeve Uhm, get back, I wasn't talking about you... g Just ignore me, it's been a weird day. Thanks for the flowers, btw. And the grenade. I thought it was quite pretty too - until it exploded, of course... g
Someone Reading - I hope is back where it belongs by now. I did not intend to cause you or anyone else any lasting physical damage. g As I said in the A/N, I am indeed planning another story, but I doubt it will be here in the next two months or so. Sorry. g I am, however, very glad that you liked this one so far!
Falling Star - Yeah, you're right, Legolas sure took his time! He just didn't want to fire that arrow, honestly, I had to force him to. shakes head Stupid wood-elf. Thank you, btw! Finally, someone who agrees that the chapter would have been too long if I hadn't split it! LOL, I wouldn't exactly say that I saved lives, though. I mean, it's not that bad, is it? I guess it would be best if you didn't answer that question... g
LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel - Yup, they ARE idiots. That doesn't really surprise you, does it? I mean, it really shouldn't. I'm sorry, though, you may not adopt Cendan. He is quite happy where he is at the moment, and I only clone dead OCs. Since he isn't dead (at least not yet) I will keep him, sorry. I might need him in another story, after all. And I DID manage to update a day sooner! Yay me! g
Elvendancer - Wow, your week really does sound busy. I'm sorry I didn't manage to update yesterday, but today is better than Thursday, right? hopeful look LOL, no, I guess it's not your fault that I'm still stuck here in college - unless you have an interesting relationship with our Chancellor of which I or the public was unaware. I really hope not. g Don't worry about being insane, btw. We're ALL mad here.
Crippled Raven - I know, I know. pats her back FF.net takes away all the things you love - I hate it too. I'd join that club of yours in a second. LOL, you really did that? Look for Celylith, I mean? Well, that's most certainly flattering - for me, that is. For you it's rather worrying... g You could always write PJ and ask him to put him into the Extended Edition of ROTK - even though I have the feeling that he wouldn't. Don't ask me why. g And yes, all this did indeed happen in Robin Hood. I just couldn't resists. I had been planning that scene for months. Don't tell me, I'm mad. g Oh, you can breathe with broken ribs, unless they're really badly broken and poke into your lungs or other fun things like that. It just hurts like hell. g LOL, what? Ethoani's death scene was a family death scene? Well, that's an interesting way of saying it... Once again worrying, but interesting. g
Yuuki Ryuu - Uhm, yes, but it's only a tiny bit of trouble. Nothing serious at all. g Well, yes, Celylith - he is in a less dead state, don't worry. He's not exactly well or anything like that, but he's not completely dead. I think. g About my name: That's actually a problem. I have no idea how an English-speaking person would pronounce my name, and since it's only a nickname I never told any of my English friends about it. So, this is the way we here pronounce it: [n ı: l ı:], or something like Neelee. Yeah, well, it IS only a nickname. shrugs
Alasse Tiwele - Are you saying I chose an inopportune moment? Why, I am hurt! I quite liked the ending ... then again, I am evil, so I guess it doesn't really count. g Oh dear. Do you really have to wait a whole weak now? I am so sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to torment you like that. Honestly. g
Snow-Glory - I didn't really think any of you would mind an extra chapter either. It's more that it bothers me when I lose control over the plot. shrugs I'm a bit strange, I know. LOL, you're right, Legolas and Cendan just might be long-lost relatives. One as unlucky as the other... g And it may really take some time 'til the next story comes out, but that's more because I will be quite busy than because I need a break from writing. I am looking forward to not writing, mind you, but it's going to last for a week. sighs I just can't stop. It's all Legolas' and Aragorn's fault. I don't know how, but I'm sure it is. g
Jazmin3 Firewing - You hate my alter ego? Why? Any who is Sarah? I really don't understand though, my alter ego is actually quite nice. I mean, yes, she's evil and sadistic, but quite amusing as well - from time to time, at least. g My muse doesn't have a name, but I think that it's more or less my own humour. I never can keep my mouth shut either. Then again, who can? No one I know. g
TrustingFriendship - Yes, it was quite sad that she died. But it was rather obvious that she would, at least I think so. The zealots always do, at least in my stories. g Nice to hear that you approve of the extra chapter! Thanks a lot for reviewing!
Karone Evertree - Hmm, now that I think about it, I have no idea how much men a continget is. I think about ten would be right. It doesn't really matter I think, since the poor contingent is rather dead as I write this. Villains really don't have a very high life-expectancy, huh? g
Firnsarnien - I know you wanted him to find Celylith. There was nothing I could do, really. He'll find him this chapter. Deal? Hmm, Aragorn won't really have time to come to Legolas' rescue, he's rather ... busy at the moment. Plus, he's at the other side of the building. Poor Legolas will have to deal with the situation all on his own... evil grin You really thought I'd let her live? shrugs Well, I thought it had been rather obvious that she wouldn't survive. Sorry about that. LOL, no, biting your acrylic nails can't be good for your health, I agree! Here's the next chapter!
Shauna - I rendered you speechless? Whohoo! Go me! g I didn't kill Ethoani because of you though, honestly, I did not. She was meant to die from the beginning, even though I was tempted to kill Laenro as well, I'll admit that. And Thesieni is still alive. So are some females in my last story, I think, aren't they? LOL, so it would be predictable if I killed Celylith? Nice try - not bad, not bad at all... g
CrazyLOTRfan - I have to admit that I didn't really count them. So, if you say it were three cliffies, I believe you. You are an expert, after all. g It's great to hear that you 'liked' the death scene. I was quite sad myself - even though not nearly as sad as about Galalith's death. Out of some reason I don't know myself I was really crying there... shrugs Well, we all knew I am weird, didn't we? You're right about Arwen, of course. We females can get people angry a lot more quicker than men. Poor them. g You people with your elf and ranger torture! You should be ashamed of yourselves, really. But you won't, I know... g
Chip - g Well, that looked like a nice little celebration! Nice to see that you liked the last chapter and Glorfindel's rescue - you didn't really think I would kill him, did you? I would be far too afraid of what Elrond would do to me to even think about something like that... g Oh, one last thing: May I ask who "Dale" is?
Sadie Elfgirl - Uhm, yes, I guess you could say that. Since I am evil it's only logical that my chapter are evil as well, hm? evil grin Hey, calling Cendan an "honourable bad guy" is just accurate since that's what he is. He's certainly not a good guy and doesn't even like them, but he has his own sense of honour. huggles him I love him too, I don't know why either. And yes, Teonvan WILL die this chapter. About time too, I know. g
Bookworm, .303 - Hmm, let me think. No, they don't learn. They're stupid, that's why. g You want Celylith to be okay? Well, I think we should start by defining the term "okay". You see, there are many different way to interpret it... evil grin
Jera - I have the nagging suspicion that FF.net ate a part of your review. If it did not, ignore that comment. g And I know that you wouldn't really be bothered by 50 chapters, but I think I would go insane. I am very glad that it's over now, since I was beginning to fear that I would never be able to end it. It's rather scary sometimes, really. g It's so great to hear that you like the fight scenes. It helps a little that my brother fenced when he was younger and I went to a lot of his tournaments. It was foil fencing, when he was quite a lot younger actually, but I assumed that a broadsword isn't all that different. looks at the two weapons Well, yes, maybe it is, but still. g I was very suprised to see your review; how did you manage to get your hands on a computer so early? g
Kathleen LaCorneille - Hmm, Cliffy Queen is better than Queen Nili. I wouldn't want to be a queen for anything in the world. In fact, you could pay me and I still wouldn't want to. g Well, I didn't want Legolas to hit the rope properly the first time. He was injured and all that, and besides, it would have been a real cliché, wouldn't it? I hope your heart is okay though. g So you forgot about Caellan, huh? Yes, I thought quite a few of you would; that was the whole point, actually. Besides, I was running out of evil dudes to kill. It's sad but true. g It's nice to hear that you liked the chapter, I hope you'll enjoy this one as well!
Marbienl - Yeah, I like 33 as well. Not quite as good as 32, but acceptable enough. g About Aragorn calling Glorfindel 'lord': I've always thought that in ME people weren't quite as informal as they are often portrayed in stories. For example, Celylith calls Legolas "lord" and "prince" and all that as well, and Elladan and Elrohir too. That may also be because their status is higher than his, of course, but I always thought that yes, Glorfindel is something like a friend of the family, but he's still a millennia old elf lord who deserves - and demands - the respect that he's due. shrugs I really can't explain it very well. Hmm, I could do a buried alive thing. The coffin wouldn't work - how likely is that, were not writing a James Bond story after all! - but snow... Hmm, not for a while then. It's springtime now! g Oh, and I don't know about Legolas' skull. I guess he has a bad concussion, but no skull fracture. He's been lucky for once, I guess. g
Celebdil-galad Tinlaure - I don't work for Sauron, BUT I have sold my soul to the devil. It might be connected to that... g I am very glad you like Celylith, of course. I am sure the CLF will be delighted if you join. They should have quite a lot of members by now... You can of course sent me that email if you want to. I just doubt that I'll be able to help you at all, since I have already problems with my own stories. But I promise you that I'll try. g
Nietta - Wow! The sentence was very nice! Almost correct, too! You missed a "have" and some other small things, but other than that... g And is it really so bad? I was kind of hoping it wouldn't be, because The Prisoner of Azkaban is my favourite too! And I love Sirius, but that's another story... g I'm sure that The Dreaded Science Test wasn't (or will be) that bad. You'll get your DVD, you'll see. LOL, I agree, knowing that you're about to die unless Aragorn and Legolas save you isn't exactly what I would call a pleasant experience... g Your prediction isn't bad, btw. Not entirely correct, of course (it wouldn't be interesting otherwise, huh?), but not bad. g Yeah, well, I will simply not watch the movie and try to forget what they've done to Homer's work. I'll manage that way - I hope.
Iccle Fairy - Oh, you don't have to apologise for reviewing twice! Feel free to review as many times as you like! g It's always nice to hear that someone likes my fight scenes. They're not all that easy to write, after all. g And I think Glorfindel decided to stay at Aragorn's side mainly because Elrond would have his head if he didn't. Poor elf lord. I hope you and Bob will like this new chapter!
Crystal-Rose15 - Yeah, I am looking forward to the Ext. Version as well. Mainly because I really didn't like that movie all that much. I just hope they put in as many of the really important scenes as possible. As much as I enjoy watching Frodo and Sam climb of that bloody mountain, I still think it would have been more important to include a few scenes Tolkien actually wrote. shrugs Hey, that's just me. And now I'm really jealous. You are going to Hawaii? I've always wanted to go there. Who knows, maybe I even will. I hope you'll have lots of fun! Just calm down and repeat after me: "This is just a story, it's not real" You should be fine after a few times. g
Alariel - Well, yes, poor Laenro, I agree. He's not a very happy camper at the moment... LOL, you're right, of course. "Okay" is a very relative term at the moment, for any of them. g Hmm, the fire-breathing dragon ... let's just say that there will be some scenes about it, if not exactly with it. After all: There IS no fire-brathing dragon. I hope. It would make everything even more complicated... And have a cookie! hands her cookie You DID spell his name correctly!
Grumpy - Ah yes, don't worry about Laenro killing people. He'll get his chance. g Your summary is rather accurate, did you know that? They're all in various kinds of trouble - which really doesn't surprise anyone, does it? Well, it doesn't surprise me. g
SeventhSpanishAngel12 - Congratulations on finding your way back here. Knowing FF.net, it can't have been easy. grimances This site hates me and my stories, I swear it does. You don't have to criticise, of course. g It's just nice if someone tells me when I made a mistake or used a wrong term or something like that. If you can't find any mistakes, I'm very glad indeed. g Thanks a lot for reviewing!

And, once again, thanks a lot for all the reviews! Only one more chapter to go (sad, I know sniffs), so stay tuned!