Severity of Silence

Chapter 6: Returning

A/N: Druth is a place I made up. It is located on the other side of Mirkwood Mountains and judging from this map it's near Esgaroth. Small place I made up. Yeah. Enjoy.

Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions. If you are in anyway queasy or don't like stuff like this I suggest you do not read it. I will be writing a (WARNING) before the section so you may skip over it. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

:Elrond:

" So soon? You only returned three days ago." I argue with the young elf standing in front of me. Legolas' eyes are downcast and refuses to meet mine only shrugs his shoulders before responding.

" My place is beside the Prince my Lord. I go where he goes." He tells me and I roll my eyes. Sometimes I honestly curse the day those two became friends. Whenever the Gondor prince goes somewhere, so doesn't Legolas. In some ways I am convinced that the two were meant to become this close of friends, in ways to heal each other. Being an only child Aragorn was separated from the other children of the court since he was the King's son, and never got to be a true child, always being near adults he grew up quickly. Legolas never had a chance to be that way because the life he knew was destroyed before his eyes and life changed drastically all before his coming of age. He was always a victim of the hatred shown toward the elves and wasn't allowed to be a normal child. He had to grow up to survive.

Gazing at the blonde prince now I feel sadness pulling at my heart at the many things he has gone without these many years. Although I love the boy like one of my own I could and can never replace his father or mother within his heart. He has never seen the forests of his homeland, never spoken in council with his elders. Yet though he missed out on all these things he is a surprisingly open minded youth with a spirit made of iron that can't be broken. He has become a fierce warrior, much of the lessons he was taught in Mirkwood coming forth to be used in battle with bow and knife. Earning his right to have the two small braids at his temple symbolizing his skill with the knife and the longer one symbolizing his skill with the bow. I have no doubt that Legolas can not handle himself out there in the world, it is the world I am afraid that can't handle him. Hatred is still among the minds of the humans, and it take long before even the strongest of will, brightest of spirit are broken by hatred.

" My Lord, I am safe. You need not worry, both Aragorn and I are capable of taking care of each other. We will always return." He says and I smile sadly at the youth. His bright eyes shinning with excitement over this new adventure he is going on and body tense with eagerness to be leaving. Placing one hand on his muscular shoulder I look him in the eye

" I want you to be more than safe. Be aware of everything around you. Traveling that close to Druth, anything can happen. Be safe, be smart and come back to me young one." I kiss him lightly on the forehead and he backs away, slinging his pack over his shoulder and walking out.

" Don't worry. I'll return sooner than you think." He smiles and is out the door before another word can be spoken. I know he could feel my unease about letting him go but I also know he knows that if I kept him here he would drive me insane. Going to the window I look out and down on the courtyard where Jerald holds two fine looking horses. Having agreed to give their horses a rest the boys had to acquire new mounts. They mount up and ask the horses to walk as they make their way down to the gates where they will gallop in a race across the plains until they reach the forests and disappear. Behind me I hear Glorfindel enter the room and I turn to look at the other elf, his long blonde hair pulled back out of his face in a few warrior braids. They hold no true meaning for the blonde elf as they do the Prince of Mirkwood, only as a tool to keep his hair from his eyes.

" Thye will be fine Elrond. Don't worry about them." He says and I snort, going back to sit in my desk chair.

" I have the feeling of foreboding my dear friend. They will not be back as soon as they predict." I say out loud and leave it at that, an uncomfortable silence falls on the room as I sit brooding in my chair, the birds outside singing a cheerful song, as the trees whisper of sadness and pain.

:Aragorn:

" I won!" I shout as we hit the tree line, bringing my stallion up short with a snort. My dark bay stomps the ground and peers about the woods before shaking his noble head. Patting the muscular neck I turn and watch as Legolas races up behind me, his body halfway off the beasts back as he picks up my pack that must have fallen off. He swings back up into a correct position and stops the stallion with a soft word of elvish. He hands me the pack with a smile and evil glint in his eye.

" You may have won Aragorn, but where would you have been without your provisions?" he asks and I smile cockily.

" You would have shared with me." I chime in and the Elf keeps his face deadpan, as he responds slowly.

" Then you would have been out of luck, for I didn't bring any." I am at first shocked to hear this, until I see the sly smirk over come the flawless features and I laugh.

" Liar! May a Balrog have your tongue for that!" he only shakes his head with a light laugh before asking his long-legged sorrel to walk. I follow his lead and begin our trip to Esgaroth, the morning sun moving slowly into the sky.

~~~~~~

At around noon we stop the horses near a rapidly running stream so they can drink and rest while we eat and rest our butts. My knees crack as I move about the small clearing, watching as the blonde elf refills the canteens. Grabbing my satchel I pull out some dried meat and bread, cutting a large chunk off each I set out Legolas' share before reclining on a tree base to eat my own.

" We should reach the Mountains by tomorrow if we ride until sundown tonight." Legolas says coming to sit against the same tree, biting off a chunk of bread. Pulling out a map I spread it on the bright grass, tracing our route with my finger.

" Our path will take us right through Mirkwood." I state and glance quickly at my friend. When I found out from Elrond that Legolas is the last survivor of the Mirkwood people and their prince I couldn't believe it. The spindly, blonde haired, horse smelling stable boy was a prince to a great Elven Kingdom and didn't think anything of it. I often asked Legolas why he didn't care about being a prince and he would only shrug and say 'I am the Prince to a name of a race, nothing more. There are no actual people to call my subjects, so why should I make such a big deal about this.'

" Alright. So, lets get going." He says and stands up. I jam the rest of my meat into my mouth and get back up on my horse, following the Elf as he makes his way down the trail.

Entering Mirkwood

:Legolas:

I don't remember the woods of my home very well. The things I do remember are so fuzzy and distorted that I can not make out any specific shapes. Everything is different here, the trees are dark and sad, their song about death and destruction. No bird sings in the distance, no animal runs from the sounds of our horses, everything has an over-tone of death to it.

" This place is sad." I whisper and Aragorn glances over at me, his eyes a dark gray. The young man is obviously feeling the sadness and dread around him for his body is tense in the saddle and knuckles almost white as he clutches the reins.

" They whisper of hatred, and blood staining the ground." I continue, lost in what the eldest beings, older than the elves, begin to tell their stories.

" So much death, people screaming as they were tortured under their boughs." My eyes close but are sharply re-opened when the scenes of what the trees saw are brought to my vision.

" People that walked among them now running and screaming as they are slain." Aragorn's hand is on my shoulder now and I shudder, one whisper catching me off-guard with the intensity

" Not wanted here. Leave now." My whole body jolts and my eyes instantly go to a scarred tree ahead of us. The branches still have ropes attached, grown into its dark brown hide. The rotted ropes sway in the slight breeze. Knife slashes are still visible.

" What is it?" Aragorn asks, his voice close to my ear and I yank my head away.

" A death tree." I sigh, my eyes dropping to the ground beneath my horse, the soil eroded after years of neglect.

" What?" Aragorn asks, his eyes going to gaze at the old tree, the ropes and knife marks.

" Where they would hang, torture and rape my people before they died." Kicking my horse into a canter I feel the urge to leave these woods, never return. The sounds of pounding hooves behind me reassure my mind that the Prince is following. My horse rounds a corner and stops suddenly, backing up, refusing to go further. Aragorn nearly crashes into me as his horse skids to a stop.

(WARNING! Queasy or faint of heart please look away!)

" Oh my Gods." his jaw hangs open as mine is firmly clenched together. Before us is a mass grave, dug up by scavengers looking for an easy meal. Limbs stick out at odd angles, the faces of the fair people half caved in from decomposing. Eyeless sockets peer out of rotting flesh and puckered lips ooze internal fluids. A crow sits on one head, picking at the skull until it's beak breaks open the rotting bone and a gray mass is exposed, much to the bird's delight. He squawks and flaps his wings as he feasts upon the brain. My eyes roam the surrounding areas, finding similar scenes. A few bodies are hanging from the nooses on the trees, the rotting skin gray and sagging as gravity pulls away on their lifeless forms. Off to one side a young woman lays, huddled around a small body of a child, eyes open wide in fear and pain as the last thing they saw was their tormentors. Several males are bound to a stake, hideous holes in their skulls and organs butchered. Children, backed up against the stones lay where their bodies fell when their heads were bashed in, white pieces of bone poking out among wispy strands of pale hair. Dismounting I move closer to one body, the face so familiar, as is the collar around her neck. The woman is lying on her side, stomach ripped open by a sword, innards left to spill from her body. Around her delicate neck is a black collar, lined with golden leaves. A cry escapes my lips as I kneel beside the half-decomposed body.

" What is it Legolas!?" Aragorn shouts and is at my side, taking my hands as I try to reach out and hold the long-dead woman. Sobbing as I gaze at her once youthful face I am able to choke out

" Arathea.. My cousin." Before I trace a finger over the collar necklace she wears, my mind goes blank as I begin to see images, not only images but sounds too in my mind.

Flashback (General POV) (End warning)

Golden haired woman races down the halls of her Uncle Thranduil's castle, the pale blue dress she is wearing in tatters from ripping pieces off for bandages. Bright silver eyes catch the slight shimmer of a red cape as her uncle turns the corner and goes down the stairs. She runs to catch up with him, leaning against the banister as she calls out

" Uncle!" The elder elf turns his face a mask of seriousness but eyes showing his unease.

" Arathea." He calls back before the sound of a great explosion rocks the halls. The young woman looks around with fearful eyes as her Uncle unsheathes his sword. His eyes flick to where his niece stands before shouting

" RUN! Make sure you and Legolas get out. Go to Rivendell. Tell them what has happened. GO NOW! RUN!" He bellows and Arathea races back up the way she came, her feet making no sound as they round the corner and burst into the young Prince's room. The little elfling looks up, his face stained with tears and hands clamed over his ears.

" Come little one." She says and picks the youth up, cradling him in her arms as they go down the hidden staircase. Her steps are light and swift as they come to the underground loading area. There are several horses tacked there, many swift horses with long legs. Arathea picks one that looks like the fastest and puts the Prince on the horse. Sounds of shouts from above them can be heard and Arathea casts frightened eyes to the staircase.

" Listen well Greenleaf. You need to ride fast to Rivendell, don't stop for anything no matter what keep ridding. Don't fall off or get off, let the horse run. Just hang on." She instructs the youth and smiles bravely at the crying boy.

" I will always be with you no matter what dear cousin. Ride fast now. I love you always. Ride!" She slaps the horses flank and the blonde prince clutches tightly to the reins as the horse pounds out of the castle. Yells of humans are now upon the stairs and Arathea turns, taking a knife from under her dress. She stands bravely as the men come at her, their angry shouts meaning nothing to her. Nothing.

End flashback

Aragorn holds onto me as we slowly make our way away from that place, my mind whirling in a mist of memories. The horses walk slowly, their own sadness showing in the lowering of their heads and dullness of their eyes. Finally leaving that area of the woods Aragorn calls halt for the night and I numbly dismount, going about my duties in silence, somewhat glade to be out of Mirkwood. Resting my back against a much happier tree, talking excitedly about having an elf under her branches I allow myself to smile slightly. Aragorn is preparing a tea over the fire, his eyes flicker to where I sit every now and then.

" I am fine Aragorn." I tell the young man at the tenth flick of his eyes. He comes over and sits beside me, handing me a cup of tea as he does so. We sit in silence for a few minutes, each watching the stars of flames dancing in the fire. I'm content just watching the stars and listening to the story from the tree when Aragorn's voice breaks the silence

" I'm sorry." I blink. What does he have to be sorry for? Taking a sip of tea I swallow and then ask

" What for?" My eyes never leaving the stars.

" For what my people did to yours." He says and I turn to look at him.

" Nay Aragorn, it was your people who saved us." I correct but the man sighs and shakes his head.

" No. I'm not talking about my father. I'm talking about those people who attacked yours. I'm sorry." I'm baffled.

" Why are you sorry?" He gives me the strangest looks and I vaguely wonder if I was supposed to get this the first time.

" Because it is my race! The race of men killed yours! I'm apologizing for every thing my race did." He states and I shake my head.

" Aragorn it is not possible for one man to apologize for a whole race's wrong doing. I have learned there are good people and bad people to every race and with the good comes the bad. I have learned to accept it. Like you and Boromir. You are a good person from your race I have a great friendship with, Boromir is one member of your race I would enjoy seeing strung up in a tree by his underwear." Aragorn laughs and I smile at my own joke. Leaning back I begin to sing a song in my native tongue, a song about two men who have nothing else in common except for the love of adventure and friendship. Nothing more, nothing less.

IS: okay I said I would update sometime this week and LOOK! I did! Yay! The next updates might be slow in coming because I ripped off my nail on my little finger, and it really hurts to type. Luckily I had plenty of Advil when I did this so I am not feeling ANY pain. It depends on how many Ideas I get when I review again so I shall update when I can!

Happy Valentines day! ::Hands out Harley Davidson valentines to everyone:: ^.^ hehe so I'm a kid at heart..

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