Aradan sat on the edge of the bed in the room he had been given, and absent-
mindedly traced patterns on the silky coverlet. He had stood on the balcony
and watched as Thranduil and Legolas and spoken. Deep down, he knew that
their privacy should be respected and he should not have tried to
eavesdrop, but he couldn't help it, for he so wanted to know what was being
decided about his future.
"I didn't hear what they were saying anyway," muttered the Elf resentfully. He sighed deeply, and lowered his gaze to the ground, as though searching for answers down there.
There was a gentle knock on the door then, and Aradan bit his lip, wondering what to do. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but then, he supposed he should be courteous whilst in someone else's home.
"Alright," he called, as there was another knock. He went across to the door and pulled it open, though his eyes widened when he saw who stood before him.
"Good afternoon, Aradan," said King Thranduil calmly. "Is it alright if I come in, or are you busy?"
"Yes, of course. I mean, yes, you can come in, and no, I am not busy," said Aradan hurriedly, sweeping a hand to the side, gesturing for the King to enter. "Please, feel free."
"Thank you, I was hoping you would say that, for we have a matter of great importance which must be discussed," said Thranduil, going into the room and smiling briefly at the younger Elf.
"Yes," Aradan said quietly, "it is a very important matter."
Thranduil nodded, and sat down opposite the bed. "You should know that when Calaen announced you were his son, I was furious. That is because I had put my trust in you, yet you failed to mention your true identity."
"I...I know, and I'm sorry, Your Highness," said Aradan. "I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid."
"Hmm, you are not the first to have ever been afraid of me," said Thranduil slowly. "I don't know why so many people feel that way, but they do. I don't think I'm particularly frightening, but I suppose everyone has their own opinions."
Aradan laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease when he saw the flickering amusement in the King's eyes. "Your Highness, I did not mean that I was afraid of you. I was merely fearful of what the outcome of the revelation would be."
"I know; I was jesting with you," Thranduil said. He sighed then, and a distant look was in his eyes. "Calaen destroyed everything for us, a long time ago. I vowed then that I would never have anything to do with him, or anyone that was connected to him. That included any friends of his, and...family, if he should start a new life."
"I understand," said Aradan quietly, his heart sinking.
"But that was a long time ago, and things have changed. I know now that just because one person is evil, it will not rub off onto anyone else," Thranduil continued. "Aradan, you are nothing like your father."
"No," muttered the younger Elf.
"And that is why I am going to offer you a home in Mirkwood," said Thranduil.
Aradan snapped his eyes up, and gazed in wonder at the King. "A...a home in...Do you mean this, Your Highness?"
"Yes, but of course you could always stay here if you so desire," replied Thranduil, his face impassive. "There is no pressure on you to come to Mirkwood."
"No, of course I wish to go," cried Aradan. He remembered then that he was talking to a King, and he lowered his eyes. "I...I mean, yes, I would very much like to go to Mirkwood."
Thranduil laughed softly, and touched a hand to the other Elf's shoulder. "I did not think you would say anything else."
"I cannot believe that I will be living in Mirkwood," breathed Aradan, his eyes glistening slightly. "I dreamed it for so long, but never did I imagine that dream would become a reality."
"Well, your years of waiting have paid off," said Thranduil, smiling benevolently. "I have other matters to attend to now, but I felt it only fair that you should know."
"Thank you, Your Highness," said Aradan, as the King went over to the door.
Thranduil paused, and turned back to look at the younger Elf. "Please, do not call me that. I do not expect members of my own family to address me as the King. Do not worry; you will get used to it."
"Yes, Your....Aradan trailed off, and smiled vaguely. "I mean, yes."
"I will see you at the evening meal," said Thranduil, inclining his head, before leaving the room.
Aradan let out a deep sigh, and walked slowly over to sit on the edge of the bed. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it wasn't long before he was laughing joyfully, his eyes dancing as he realised that his life-long dream had just come true.
............................................................................................................
Calaen leaned back against the tree, staring up at the sky through the branches. His hands had been un-bound, but the number of Elves guarding him had gone up by two, which he thought was entirely un-necessary. Of course there was no point in trying anything. At least not yet.
"This is no place for a child," called a fair haired guard, Curanil, jerking the captive from thoughts.
Calaen snapped his eyes down from the sky, and concealed a smile as he saw Tain trotting across the field towards the small group. In his hands was wooden bowl, a sweet smelling steam rising from it.
Curanil sighed as the child made no signs of halting. "It is much safer for you back inside Lord Elrond's house, I can assure you."
"Valar, anyone would think I'm dangerous," muttered Calaen.
"Silence, we did not ask for your opinion," snapped Curanil. He glared at the dark haired Elf for a moment, before walking forwards and kneeling in front of Tain. "These archery grounds are off limits to anyone but the Lords and soldiers of Rivendell. You, I'm afraid, are neither."
Tain's eyes glistened, and he looked sadly at the guard. "But...but it is near to the evening meal, and that Elf has nothing to eat. My mother always told me that people get sick if they miss meals."
"That is true, but I think your mother was referring only to young children," said Curanil, smiling. "You have a kind heart, but that kindness would be better spent on someone who is worthy of it."
"I don't want him to get ill," said Tain miserably, looking down at the bowl he still held. "I get ill sometimes, and it doesn't feel very nice. Besides, I made this for him."
"What is it?" asked Curanil, glancing down.
"It is just some soup. It is not very much, but it is warm, and will keep him alive for tonight," replied Tain.
Curanil concealed a smile as he heard the other guards laughing quietly. "He is a grown Elf, strong and in full health."
"You flatter me," muttered Calaen.
"He will live through the night without your soup, though I'm sure it is lovely," said Curanil, ignoring the comment. "Why don't you find someone else who might want it?"
Tain sighed, but nodded sadly. As he turned away, a single tear fell from his eye, and rolled down his cheek. This did not go un-noticed by Curanil, and he reached out to touch a hand to the child's shoulder.
"If it means that much to you, let me have the soup so that I can give it to him," said the guard. "But if I do, you must leave this field immediately. Understand?"
"Yes, thank you," said the boy, passing over the bowl. As Curanil took it and turned away, Tain locked eyes with Calaen, and smiled.
"I don't care whether you like this or not," hissed Curanil, roughly shoving the bowl into the prisoner's hands, "you will eat it, because I do not wish to have a crying child on my hands."
"Yes, that would be tragic," sneered Calaen.
Curanil rolled his eyes, before turning back to Tain. "Run along now, and I will make sure he eats it. Go on."
"Thank you," Tain called over his shoulder as he ran away from the group. What no-one saw though was the nasty smile dancing on his lips.
"That is quite alright," muttered Curanil, shaking his head slightly. He looked back at Calaen then, and gestured to the bowl. "Eat."
The dark haired Elf nodded slowly, and dipped a finger into the soup. It was a light brown in colour, though it was tinged with green. Thick and sticky was the texture, and it looked far from appetizing. But then, Calaen thought grimly, this mixture was not supposed to taste nice. No, it was used for something very different than satisfying hunger.
Calaen raised the bowl to his lips and slowly drank, trying to block out the sickly smell of the substance. It hit the back of this throat like an arrow, burning as it went down. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling, but couldn't help letting out a soft noise of discomfort.
"What's wrong with you?" demanded Curanil.
"Child's cooking," muttered Calaen, casting the soup a distasteful glance. He had known that it would hurt, but he had also known that this was the only choice he had, if he wanted to put his plan into action.
"Well, if it is that bad, then don't eat it," said a guard who went by the name of Morawen.
Calaen nodded slowly, and threw the bowl down to the ground. The remaining liquid spilled out, but the dark haired Elf ignored it, and rested his head in his hands. As he stared through his fingers, the world seemed to spin around him, and lights flashed in front of his eyes.
"Valar..." he breathed, as pain shot through him.
Curanil shot his comrades an enquiring glance, before looking down at Calaen. "Here, are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes, of course," snapped the captive, un-consciously grabbing some of his hair and pulling on it.
"No, there is something wrong with him, even though he denies it," Morawen observed. "Look, he is in pain."
"Should we help him?" asked a younger guard, Alondir.
"Well, it will be no good if dies," snapped Curanil, the expression on his face suggesting he would rather not deal with this.
"No, I...I'm fine, I..." Calaen fell silent, and closed his eyes tightly.
"You are in no position to speak falsely about anything, so don't..." Curanil trailed off as he pulled Calaen's hands away from his face.
"Ai Elbereth," breathed Elias, whilst the other guards all made noises of surprise and horror.
Blood was streaming in rivulets from Calaen's mouth, staining his pale skin a deep crimson colour. Sweat was pouring from him, and his forehead was drenched with perspiration. He moaned in pain, and threw his head back against the tree trunk.
"We cannot leave him like this," muttered Curanil. "Tirondel and Morawen, go to Lord Elrond, and tell him what is happening; Celorfyn, Galáril and Tinerian, find some healers and bring them here; Alondir, stay with me and help."
"Surely it would be better for more than just two of you to stay," said Morawen doubtfully. "What if he tries anything?"
"Does he look in any position to try and escape or harm someone?" demanded Curanil. "But if you're worried, then...Celorfyn, stay here with us. The rest of you go and do what I told you to."
Alondir, a silver haired Elf, knelt beside Calaen, and took his wrist. "Ai, his pulse is racing. What can possibly be wrong with him?"
"There must have been something in that....whatever it was that the child brought for him," muttered Curanil, glancing down at the spilt soup. He shook his head slightly, before crouching at Calaen's side. "Not that you deserve it, but healers will be here soon. Can you wait until then?"
Calaen leant forwards as though to double over, but as he moved he reached out and grabbed a pair of knives from Alondir's belt. The guard hissed and made to snatch them back, but all he got was a slash across his hand. Curanil watched in confusion, and he realised too late that the whole thing had been a set-up. He looked down just in time to see a knife being stabbed into his chest.
"From the moment I saw you, I disliked you," muttered Calaen, pulling out the blade and kicking the guard to the ground.
"You..." breathed Celorfyn. He pulled out his own knives, though his eyes widened as Alondir was pulled towards Calaen, a blade against his throat.
"Drop them or this one dies. As you can see, I have already killed your captain, so there is no reason as to why I should feel bad about killing this...What are you called? Ah yes, Alondir. Drop the knives, now!" Calaen hissed.
Celorfyn glanced at the younger guard, before throwing the blades down to the ground. Calaen smiled, and slowly shook his head. The two Elves locked eyes for a moment, Alondir still held in a tight grip, his eyes closed as he felt the cold steel on his throat.
"Release him," growled Celorfyn.
"As you wish," replied Calaen. He kept one arm wrapped around Alondir, but moved his hand back so that he could place the knife between his teeth. He laughed quietly, and then pressed hard against a pressure point on the other Elf's neck.
"You said you would release him," hissed Celorfyn, running forwards as his friend dropped to the ground, un-conscious.
"Yes, and I kept my word. He is not dead, and will wake soon enough," replied Calaen, walking forwards slowly. "Sadly, I cannot have you around to report what has happened when the healers come."
Celorfyn looked up just in time to see a booted foot swinging his way. He tried to duck it, but was kicked harshly on the side of his head. He blinked twice, everything spinning wildly around him for a painful moment. Then, darkness fell, and he collapsed on the ground, un-conscious, like Alondir.
"A few more guards might have been useful," Calaen smirked, grabbing Curanil's body, and dragging him backwards, into the bushes. A trail of blood followed them, staining the lush green grass.
When he was sure that no-one would be able to see the dead guard if they stood in the archery field, Calaen threw Curanil down to the ground, then went back for Alondir and Celorfyn. The elder had a trickle of blood coming from the head wound that had been caused by Calaen's boot, and the younger's face was pale.
"Well, you deserved it," muttered Calaen, pulling off his own tunic and replacing it with Celorfyn's. Then, he pulled on one of the green cloaks worn by the guards of Imladris, making sure that the hood covered his face.
"You will not need these where you have gone," he laughed, reaching down and taking Curanil's knives. Then with a final glance around to make sure he was still alone, Calaen leaped into one of the trees, and jumped through it, smiling when he thought of the expressions everyone would wear when they found out he was gone.
They were fools. They had caught him, but of course he had set himself free. They should have known that he could not be held captive for long. And now, he was going to get his revenge...on all of them.
............................................................................................................
Legolas-gurl88: No, I don't think that Legolas is stupid either. sigh He's so misunderstood!
Halimanya: As far as I know, he doesn't. But you could probably find out someplace like 'The Encyclopaedia of Arda'. I hate spelling that long word which begins with E. I'm not gonna spell it again, it takes too long, and I always get the letters mixed up!
Rachel13: Hee hee, that would be a nightmare come true for poor Legolas!
eleanor rigbey: Ah, and there was me thinking I was free from all the nastiness of maths! Oh well, I can always get my parents to do my taxes for me! Or I could bribe my brother....
Haldir's Heart and Soul: Totally! I think that creepy kids are scarier thank creepy adults. Like Damien, in the Omen! He scares me!
GollumGirl: Hee hee, that was funny!
Irish Anor: Poor you! I had an Internet problem a few weeks back, and it was horrible! I don't know how I survived!
Ya, that was just a little bit weird, but everything will be explained in...not the next chapter, but the one after. Then you'll find out what was up with the soup and the blood, and what Tain had to do with it. Til next time! Misto x-x
"I didn't hear what they were saying anyway," muttered the Elf resentfully. He sighed deeply, and lowered his gaze to the ground, as though searching for answers down there.
There was a gentle knock on the door then, and Aradan bit his lip, wondering what to do. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but then, he supposed he should be courteous whilst in someone else's home.
"Alright," he called, as there was another knock. He went across to the door and pulled it open, though his eyes widened when he saw who stood before him.
"Good afternoon, Aradan," said King Thranduil calmly. "Is it alright if I come in, or are you busy?"
"Yes, of course. I mean, yes, you can come in, and no, I am not busy," said Aradan hurriedly, sweeping a hand to the side, gesturing for the King to enter. "Please, feel free."
"Thank you, I was hoping you would say that, for we have a matter of great importance which must be discussed," said Thranduil, going into the room and smiling briefly at the younger Elf.
"Yes," Aradan said quietly, "it is a very important matter."
Thranduil nodded, and sat down opposite the bed. "You should know that when Calaen announced you were his son, I was furious. That is because I had put my trust in you, yet you failed to mention your true identity."
"I...I know, and I'm sorry, Your Highness," said Aradan. "I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid."
"Hmm, you are not the first to have ever been afraid of me," said Thranduil slowly. "I don't know why so many people feel that way, but they do. I don't think I'm particularly frightening, but I suppose everyone has their own opinions."
Aradan laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease when he saw the flickering amusement in the King's eyes. "Your Highness, I did not mean that I was afraid of you. I was merely fearful of what the outcome of the revelation would be."
"I know; I was jesting with you," Thranduil said. He sighed then, and a distant look was in his eyes. "Calaen destroyed everything for us, a long time ago. I vowed then that I would never have anything to do with him, or anyone that was connected to him. That included any friends of his, and...family, if he should start a new life."
"I understand," said Aradan quietly, his heart sinking.
"But that was a long time ago, and things have changed. I know now that just because one person is evil, it will not rub off onto anyone else," Thranduil continued. "Aradan, you are nothing like your father."
"No," muttered the younger Elf.
"And that is why I am going to offer you a home in Mirkwood," said Thranduil.
Aradan snapped his eyes up, and gazed in wonder at the King. "A...a home in...Do you mean this, Your Highness?"
"Yes, but of course you could always stay here if you so desire," replied Thranduil, his face impassive. "There is no pressure on you to come to Mirkwood."
"No, of course I wish to go," cried Aradan. He remembered then that he was talking to a King, and he lowered his eyes. "I...I mean, yes, I would very much like to go to Mirkwood."
Thranduil laughed softly, and touched a hand to the other Elf's shoulder. "I did not think you would say anything else."
"I cannot believe that I will be living in Mirkwood," breathed Aradan, his eyes glistening slightly. "I dreamed it for so long, but never did I imagine that dream would become a reality."
"Well, your years of waiting have paid off," said Thranduil, smiling benevolently. "I have other matters to attend to now, but I felt it only fair that you should know."
"Thank you, Your Highness," said Aradan, as the King went over to the door.
Thranduil paused, and turned back to look at the younger Elf. "Please, do not call me that. I do not expect members of my own family to address me as the King. Do not worry; you will get used to it."
"Yes, Your....Aradan trailed off, and smiled vaguely. "I mean, yes."
"I will see you at the evening meal," said Thranduil, inclining his head, before leaving the room.
Aradan let out a deep sigh, and walked slowly over to sit on the edge of the bed. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it wasn't long before he was laughing joyfully, his eyes dancing as he realised that his life-long dream had just come true.
............................................................................................................
Calaen leaned back against the tree, staring up at the sky through the branches. His hands had been un-bound, but the number of Elves guarding him had gone up by two, which he thought was entirely un-necessary. Of course there was no point in trying anything. At least not yet.
"This is no place for a child," called a fair haired guard, Curanil, jerking the captive from thoughts.
Calaen snapped his eyes down from the sky, and concealed a smile as he saw Tain trotting across the field towards the small group. In his hands was wooden bowl, a sweet smelling steam rising from it.
Curanil sighed as the child made no signs of halting. "It is much safer for you back inside Lord Elrond's house, I can assure you."
"Valar, anyone would think I'm dangerous," muttered Calaen.
"Silence, we did not ask for your opinion," snapped Curanil. He glared at the dark haired Elf for a moment, before walking forwards and kneeling in front of Tain. "These archery grounds are off limits to anyone but the Lords and soldiers of Rivendell. You, I'm afraid, are neither."
Tain's eyes glistened, and he looked sadly at the guard. "But...but it is near to the evening meal, and that Elf has nothing to eat. My mother always told me that people get sick if they miss meals."
"That is true, but I think your mother was referring only to young children," said Curanil, smiling. "You have a kind heart, but that kindness would be better spent on someone who is worthy of it."
"I don't want him to get ill," said Tain miserably, looking down at the bowl he still held. "I get ill sometimes, and it doesn't feel very nice. Besides, I made this for him."
"What is it?" asked Curanil, glancing down.
"It is just some soup. It is not very much, but it is warm, and will keep him alive for tonight," replied Tain.
Curanil concealed a smile as he heard the other guards laughing quietly. "He is a grown Elf, strong and in full health."
"You flatter me," muttered Calaen.
"He will live through the night without your soup, though I'm sure it is lovely," said Curanil, ignoring the comment. "Why don't you find someone else who might want it?"
Tain sighed, but nodded sadly. As he turned away, a single tear fell from his eye, and rolled down his cheek. This did not go un-noticed by Curanil, and he reached out to touch a hand to the child's shoulder.
"If it means that much to you, let me have the soup so that I can give it to him," said the guard. "But if I do, you must leave this field immediately. Understand?"
"Yes, thank you," said the boy, passing over the bowl. As Curanil took it and turned away, Tain locked eyes with Calaen, and smiled.
"I don't care whether you like this or not," hissed Curanil, roughly shoving the bowl into the prisoner's hands, "you will eat it, because I do not wish to have a crying child on my hands."
"Yes, that would be tragic," sneered Calaen.
Curanil rolled his eyes, before turning back to Tain. "Run along now, and I will make sure he eats it. Go on."
"Thank you," Tain called over his shoulder as he ran away from the group. What no-one saw though was the nasty smile dancing on his lips.
"That is quite alright," muttered Curanil, shaking his head slightly. He looked back at Calaen then, and gestured to the bowl. "Eat."
The dark haired Elf nodded slowly, and dipped a finger into the soup. It was a light brown in colour, though it was tinged with green. Thick and sticky was the texture, and it looked far from appetizing. But then, Calaen thought grimly, this mixture was not supposed to taste nice. No, it was used for something very different than satisfying hunger.
Calaen raised the bowl to his lips and slowly drank, trying to block out the sickly smell of the substance. It hit the back of this throat like an arrow, burning as it went down. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling, but couldn't help letting out a soft noise of discomfort.
"What's wrong with you?" demanded Curanil.
"Child's cooking," muttered Calaen, casting the soup a distasteful glance. He had known that it would hurt, but he had also known that this was the only choice he had, if he wanted to put his plan into action.
"Well, if it is that bad, then don't eat it," said a guard who went by the name of Morawen.
Calaen nodded slowly, and threw the bowl down to the ground. The remaining liquid spilled out, but the dark haired Elf ignored it, and rested his head in his hands. As he stared through his fingers, the world seemed to spin around him, and lights flashed in front of his eyes.
"Valar..." he breathed, as pain shot through him.
Curanil shot his comrades an enquiring glance, before looking down at Calaen. "Here, are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes, of course," snapped the captive, un-consciously grabbing some of his hair and pulling on it.
"No, there is something wrong with him, even though he denies it," Morawen observed. "Look, he is in pain."
"Should we help him?" asked a younger guard, Alondir.
"Well, it will be no good if dies," snapped Curanil, the expression on his face suggesting he would rather not deal with this.
"No, I...I'm fine, I..." Calaen fell silent, and closed his eyes tightly.
"You are in no position to speak falsely about anything, so don't..." Curanil trailed off as he pulled Calaen's hands away from his face.
"Ai Elbereth," breathed Elias, whilst the other guards all made noises of surprise and horror.
Blood was streaming in rivulets from Calaen's mouth, staining his pale skin a deep crimson colour. Sweat was pouring from him, and his forehead was drenched with perspiration. He moaned in pain, and threw his head back against the tree trunk.
"We cannot leave him like this," muttered Curanil. "Tirondel and Morawen, go to Lord Elrond, and tell him what is happening; Celorfyn, Galáril and Tinerian, find some healers and bring them here; Alondir, stay with me and help."
"Surely it would be better for more than just two of you to stay," said Morawen doubtfully. "What if he tries anything?"
"Does he look in any position to try and escape or harm someone?" demanded Curanil. "But if you're worried, then...Celorfyn, stay here with us. The rest of you go and do what I told you to."
Alondir, a silver haired Elf, knelt beside Calaen, and took his wrist. "Ai, his pulse is racing. What can possibly be wrong with him?"
"There must have been something in that....whatever it was that the child brought for him," muttered Curanil, glancing down at the spilt soup. He shook his head slightly, before crouching at Calaen's side. "Not that you deserve it, but healers will be here soon. Can you wait until then?"
Calaen leant forwards as though to double over, but as he moved he reached out and grabbed a pair of knives from Alondir's belt. The guard hissed and made to snatch them back, but all he got was a slash across his hand. Curanil watched in confusion, and he realised too late that the whole thing had been a set-up. He looked down just in time to see a knife being stabbed into his chest.
"From the moment I saw you, I disliked you," muttered Calaen, pulling out the blade and kicking the guard to the ground.
"You..." breathed Celorfyn. He pulled out his own knives, though his eyes widened as Alondir was pulled towards Calaen, a blade against his throat.
"Drop them or this one dies. As you can see, I have already killed your captain, so there is no reason as to why I should feel bad about killing this...What are you called? Ah yes, Alondir. Drop the knives, now!" Calaen hissed.
Celorfyn glanced at the younger guard, before throwing the blades down to the ground. Calaen smiled, and slowly shook his head. The two Elves locked eyes for a moment, Alondir still held in a tight grip, his eyes closed as he felt the cold steel on his throat.
"Release him," growled Celorfyn.
"As you wish," replied Calaen. He kept one arm wrapped around Alondir, but moved his hand back so that he could place the knife between his teeth. He laughed quietly, and then pressed hard against a pressure point on the other Elf's neck.
"You said you would release him," hissed Celorfyn, running forwards as his friend dropped to the ground, un-conscious.
"Yes, and I kept my word. He is not dead, and will wake soon enough," replied Calaen, walking forwards slowly. "Sadly, I cannot have you around to report what has happened when the healers come."
Celorfyn looked up just in time to see a booted foot swinging his way. He tried to duck it, but was kicked harshly on the side of his head. He blinked twice, everything spinning wildly around him for a painful moment. Then, darkness fell, and he collapsed on the ground, un-conscious, like Alondir.
"A few more guards might have been useful," Calaen smirked, grabbing Curanil's body, and dragging him backwards, into the bushes. A trail of blood followed them, staining the lush green grass.
When he was sure that no-one would be able to see the dead guard if they stood in the archery field, Calaen threw Curanil down to the ground, then went back for Alondir and Celorfyn. The elder had a trickle of blood coming from the head wound that had been caused by Calaen's boot, and the younger's face was pale.
"Well, you deserved it," muttered Calaen, pulling off his own tunic and replacing it with Celorfyn's. Then, he pulled on one of the green cloaks worn by the guards of Imladris, making sure that the hood covered his face.
"You will not need these where you have gone," he laughed, reaching down and taking Curanil's knives. Then with a final glance around to make sure he was still alone, Calaen leaped into one of the trees, and jumped through it, smiling when he thought of the expressions everyone would wear when they found out he was gone.
They were fools. They had caught him, but of course he had set himself free. They should have known that he could not be held captive for long. And now, he was going to get his revenge...on all of them.
............................................................................................................
Legolas-gurl88: No, I don't think that Legolas is stupid either. sigh He's so misunderstood!
Halimanya: As far as I know, he doesn't. But you could probably find out someplace like 'The Encyclopaedia of Arda'. I hate spelling that long word which begins with E. I'm not gonna spell it again, it takes too long, and I always get the letters mixed up!
Rachel13: Hee hee, that would be a nightmare come true for poor Legolas!
eleanor rigbey: Ah, and there was me thinking I was free from all the nastiness of maths! Oh well, I can always get my parents to do my taxes for me! Or I could bribe my brother....
Haldir's Heart and Soul: Totally! I think that creepy kids are scarier thank creepy adults. Like Damien, in the Omen! He scares me!
GollumGirl: Hee hee, that was funny!
Irish Anor: Poor you! I had an Internet problem a few weeks back, and it was horrible! I don't know how I survived!
Ya, that was just a little bit weird, but everything will be explained in...not the next chapter, but the one after. Then you'll find out what was up with the soup and the blood, and what Tain had to do with it. Til next time! Misto x-x