Ouch, you had to wait 2 weeks for an update.

I appologize for the delay, but this chapter made my hair grey before time. LOL

No seriously, I rewrote it a lot of times but I'm still not sure about it.

I do apologize if I messed up the Silmarillion, but I can barely remember all the events that took place in that book.

I think I should read it again. Where is spare time when you need it.sigh

Reviews:

grumpy: thankx for coming back

A Sly Fan: I will explain in one of the next chapters.

That Undomiel Chick: Thanx a lot

Nihgtshade Berry: thanx for your hundred reviews huggles I promise I will update as fast it is possible to me.

A/N: Ashley, you are a great guy, I don't know what I would do without you.Thanx for betaing

and co-writing this chapter. thousand hugs

That is enough rambling for one evening, on with the story.

Have Fun

Disclaimer: as usual, see in chapter 1

Chapter 5

Aragorn was furious. Furious, frustrated and bored. Yes. Most of all he was bored like he had never been before in his entire life.

It was now one week since his accident as he had named it. He still was not able to remember, but that was not what frustrated him.

One week without sword training in the practicing fields, one week without archery, one week without hunting or camping outsides of Rivendell, one week without walking in the wilds, and one week under the permanent watchful eyes of his family and his friends. Every night one of them would be sitting beside his bed watching and ready to intervene should he do something foolish.

The first two nights he had not cared at all, for he hardly had noticed. They had drugged him into sleep, he snorted at the thought of it now, and the third night he had refused to drink the tea. He told them he felt fine and needed no tea to help him sleep.

The nights had been uneventful, he had slept like a baby, without nightmares, no sleepwalking and no trying to cut himself. Nothing had bothered his dreams.

But the days... the days were hell. Being confined in his room, constantly monitored, made his nerves tingle. Pacing up and down his room like a trapped warg was all he could do besides reading.

'Oh, wonderful. A new book about the history of Arda.' He had thanked Elrohir sarcastically on the fourth day of his imprisonment, pretending not to notice the sad look in his eyes 'How many of them are left in the library?'

Sitting on his balcony and watching the bustling activities of the inhabitants of Imladris was more than he could bear. He seriously had considered jumping out of the balcony, stealing a horse and fleeing into the wild. He was not made for sitting around in a room every day, doing nothing at all.

His heart longed for the woods, and he missed the wind running through his hair. He missed the smell of a flickering campfire and he missed sleeping under the sky, littered with the sparkling stars he knew so well. He missed the tracking of deer, and he even missed the battles with the orcs.

The only thing that had interrupted his boredom was a pillow war with his brothers last evening. He could not recall who and why it had started but he could clearly remember the end of it.

A wide grin appeared on his face when he thought back and recalled Glorfindel's face when he had entered the room, carrying a tray and a second later a pillow had smacked him across the face, the overstressed fabric torn apart and a shower of tiny feathers rained down on him. They clung to his brows, covered his robes and one particular feather had found its way into Glorfindel's nose.

The mighty Balrog slayer had started to sneeze like mad, abandoning the tray which clattered to the floor, sending pieces of crockery mixed with the food all over, while Glorfindel tried in vain to remove the feather. Sneezing all the time the elf bent forward, sending the feathers from his robes up into the air so that they surrounded him like a cloud.

First the brothers stood frozen in place, but watching the mighty ancient warrior fighting against little feathers and losing badly had sent them into helpless laughter. Oh, how he wished to paint this picture, for it would be a wonderful addition to the gallery.

The grin left Aragorn's face when he shook himself out of his reverie. Yes, that was the only fun he had in a whole week.

He could not damn his family for caring, he knew that they only wanted his best, and they wanted to protect him, but to be treated like a raw egg that could break while only looking at it? It was too much for him. He was an adult and not a little child. He was able to handle whatever life would have in stock for him. He would find out what had happened to him that night one week ago, and he would do it on his own, he needed no help.

He had to get out as soon as possible before he became insane from the treatment and the care. He decided to wait another day and should nothing change he knew what he would do.

Scuffling back into his room he searched for the book Elrohir had brought him three days ago and found it under the chair that was seated in a corner of his room, where he had tossed it in frustration. Laying back on his bed head resting against the headboard he started to read, but could not concentrate on the story, because his thoughts raced, planning to find a way out of Imladris, should his father not allow him to leave for a few days.

He had to go, and he knew where he would go.

Had he known what took place only a few rooms further down the hallway his decision would have been another.

Elrond sat in his study, piles of parchments surrounding him. Almost every book was removed from the shelves and was stacked to towers around the desk and the various chairs and seats in the room. If someone should enter now, he would barely be able to see the carpet under all the items that were thrown on it.

He sat in silence bracing his head in his hands, with furrowed brows he mustered the mess and thought that it looked like Estel's room one week ago. Returning his gaze to the paintings he had retrieved from Estel's room like he had done the last days, begging for an answer. He had not slept much, and a few hours ago a headache had set in.

Massaging his temples to ease the pain, he thought about what he should tell his sons. He knew what had caused all that had happened to Estel, he knew very well, but he did not know if he had the courage to tell them. One part of his mind told him that it would be better to rest and take a few herbs against his headache, but he dared not, for fear of losing the little control he had. Moreover the herbs would only strengthen that thing that taunted him now nearly constantly.

Staring into nothing he mused about the irony of the situation. He was the powerful elf lord, ruler of Imladris and bearer of Vilya, but now he would not be able to stop what should never have happened again.

A soft knock on the door was heard and the golden head of Glorfindel perked in. Smiling at his friend he entered, closely followed by a maid servant with a tray, overcrowded with fresh fruits, bread, cheese and various other things, including a jar filled with dark red wine.

'Tell me, my friend.' He started to speak. 'What would you tell me, if you would find me in a state like yours?'

'I think I would lecture you, send you to bed and make you a cup of a sleeping draught.' Elrond replied, raising his tired head.

'Hopefully not without something to eat at first.' Glorfindel teased his old friend 'I thought that some of the old wine would do the same work than one of your sleeping draughts...' '...and it tastes much better.' He added with a grin.

'I'm not...'

'Hungry, I know, but I am, and I do not want to eat alone, so if you don't mind, I would like to have my meal in good company with a little talk to finish the day.' While talking Glorfindel had cleared the desk from most of the parchments and books and motioned to the servant to place the tray in front of Elrond.

'Thank you' he addressed the girl, who bowed and left the two lords alone, closing the door silently behind her.

Elrond watched the warrior who had picked up one of the overstuffed chairs and set it in front of his desk. Glorfindel placed one of the filled plates in front of Elrond, poured wine in two goblets, and settled back in the chair. He took in the flavour of the deep red liquid, savouring the smell of grapes mingled with the rich scent of black currant and a zest of old wood, coming from the barrels in which the wine had rested the last century. He took a first sip, rolling the wine around in his mouth and swallowed it after a while.

'This tastes definitely better than one of your draughts.' He told Elrond with a smirk.

The lord in question had not paid attention to what Glorfindel had done or said and poked around on his plate.

'Middle Earth to Elrond! Are you still with us, or have you left for the havens and I'm sitting here talking to a ghost?'

'Yes...' Elrond murmured, his gaze fixed on the plate but not noticing at what he looked or what had been said.

With a stern look Glorfindel leaned forward, grasped one hand of his friend and tried to pry Elronds attention away from the plate.

'My friend, you are so far away! What happened? Talk to me! Have you discovered something? Do you know what had caused this?' He asked waving his hand in disgust over the paintings.

Elrond lifted his weary eyes and met the concerned gaze of his best friend and most trusted advisor. He, sighing, leaned back in his chair. He decided he had to tell some one and Glorfindel was the best choice he had, and maybe the ancient warrior was of more help than he thought.

Closing his eyes to concentrate, he finally made the decision to fill in Glorfindel to the complete story.

'You know, it is hard for me to tell you, because it was not meant to happen again.' He started.

Glorfindel opened his mouth to answer but Elrond begged him to remain silent with a gaze. He needed to tell the story without being interrupted. When he would have finished he would face the accusation, which he was sure would come.

'Short before the Last Alliance, Gil-Galad visited Oropher in Greenwood to talk about the alliance which should unite elves and men for the fight against Sauron. During the meeting a guard burst into the hall and shouted out that another victim had been found. Oropher and his son shared a glance and left immediately without explaining anything to Gil-Galad and his men. Gil-Galad followed them, curious of what had occurred such that the king and his heir left unceremoniously an important meeting.

'They ventured deep into the forest and what they found there was even too much for the seasoned warriors who had accompanied the High-King. Not few of them paled and gagged. Some could not stand what they saw and left running. Oropher covered his mouth with the sleeve of his robe and walked closer to the body of the dead elf. It was mutilated in such a way that it was barely recognizable as an elven being. Only the face had been untouched, the look of pain and terror frozen for eternity on his fair features. Gil-Galad demanded to know what had happened there, and why it was "another" victim.

'Oropher told him that "over the course of the last week five, nay, now six elves had been killed in the same way". Bending down he retrieved a piece of parchment from beside the dead elf. It was a painting of the moon, now coloured by the victim's blood. This was the sign that it had been the same killer as before.

'Oropher said that they had been not able to find the killer to this point and the only evidence they had were these pictures, drawn by the victim himself. Later, when the body had been removed and they all had returned to the palace, Oropher tried to explain what he knew about the murderer. It had started four weeks ago, when the first body had been found. At first they had thought that it must be orcs, but then the foul creatures never dared showing up so close to the palace grounds. So it must be another who killed the elves but they did not know whom it could be.

'They had searched the homes of the victims and they had only found these disturbing pictures, of which they would find one beside every dead body. They discussed the threat the whole night and came to no conclusion. But they decided that they would watch the realm for a sign of who could be the next victim. The paintings were their only hope, and if they could find out the elf who was chosen to be the next victim they would be able to get in the way of the murderer. Three days later it happened. One of the guards reported that he had found a picture on one of his comrade's bed, and the warrior in question had not shown up for his duties. He had sent a few guards out for tracking the missed warrior and Gil-Galad and the others followed them shortly after.

'Two hours later they heard a piercing scream ringing through the forest that made them shiver. Running towards the sound they heard nothing more, but when they burst out onto a little clearing they saw the missed elf pinned against the trunk of a tree with two arrows protruding from his chest and in front of the unfortunate being there stood... another elf, his blade raised for the final low. They yelled at him to distract him from his doing while they ran up to the tree to capture the killer and free the wounded elf. But the killer did not care that he was caught and finished his task without a fraction of a second of hesitation. One of the guards took him down but it was too late. Another immortal life had been taken and that by one of his own kin.

'It took all of the guards to hold the killer in place; he fought like mad, even when it was clear that he was outnumbered. But finally they managed to get him down and bind him tightly. The guards lifted him up to his feet and for the first time they were able to take a closer look to his face. It was one of the artists of Greenwood, a well known artist. His pictures and lyrics were much liked all over the realm. But now he was not the patient and soft hearted elf they knew, but a fierce killer. 'They took him to the palace to question him but he refused to talk. Gil- Galad had sensed something around this elf but he would need the power of Vilya to proof his suspicion. So he asked to clear the hall from all others than himself, Oropher, Thranduil and the killer, and ordered them not to return until one of them would grant them the permission. The warriors protested but the High-King was adamant in his decision, and soon they were alone. Gil-Galad rose his hand and Vilya's light shone bright through the dime throne room of Greenwood.

'The murderous elf screamed and cursed when the light hit him. He fell on his knees and struggled against his bonds. Suddenly his voice became much darker and hoarser and he started to curse and swear in the dark language. He raised his head and what they saw made their blood run cold. The usually deep blue orbs of the elf were now two black pools, but the darkness was moving like clouds on a windy day, it swirled around and covered all of the eyes.

'Facing Gil-Galad the elf started to speak, and it was clear that it was not his mind which uttered the words. The words spoke of revenge and generations of hatred and that it would destroy the elves one by one. Gil- Galad shivered. He knew what he had faced at that moment and he was close to giving up, because he knew that he could not destroy that creature, but he also knew that he could not allow that thing to roam around freely. He could feel the concerned glances of Oropher and his son, but he could not release his hold on the being. He would explain later. Using the powers of Vilya he finally managed to rip away the dark presence from the poor elf, of whom he knew now that he was a victim himself.

'No one on Arda had the power to withstand that thing which had occupied his body. A dark substance ran out of the former artist's nose and eyes and formed a swirling cloud above him. Released from the hold that the presence had over him the elf collapsed on the floor, sobbing and shivering. Gil- Galad intensified his hold on the cloud and Vilya shone brighter than before.

'The cloud moved around frantically and tried to come free, but Vilya was too strong for it. Knowing that he had only one chance to remove this evil from here, Gil-Galad called up all the powers he knew were in his ring, added his own strength to it, and from one second to the other the cloud disappeared behind the walls of a deep blue whirlwind that had been built up around it. Gil-Galad closed his eyes and sent the whirlwind out of one of the windows and it rose high above the trees of Greenwood and disappeared in the north.

'He stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed, breathing heavily for more than one hour, and no one dared to touch him. Oropher, Thranduil and the artist watched as the blue light of Vilya dimmed down and disappeared finally. Gil-Galad opened his eyes, looked at the others and said that it is done, then collapsed, totally exhausted. It took him two days to recover before he told Oropher what he had done, knowing that he would not be able to destroy it, so he had moved the cloud high up into the Northern Waste and barricaded it in eternal ice surrounded by spells, so that it would not be able to escape. That was what he hoped. But he was wrong.'

Elrond's voice faded but then he took up his story again. Glorfindel still watched him in silence not knowing what to say.

'Gil-Galad told me the story when he gave me Vilya, and he told me that it would be in my responsibility to fight this evil back should it show up once again. And now it is back. But I will not be able to fight it back.'

Lowering his head in shame Elrond stopped his tale again, feeling the presence linger at the outskirts of his mind teasing and taunting him that he would soon not be able to withstand longer.

He garnered all his remaining strength and pushed it back on last time, knowing that he would not be able to do it again.

Glorfindel had watched his friend and now he opened his mouth to speak for the first time since Elrond had started his story. 'Why will you not be able to fight it back? You are the bearer of Vilya, and the last time Vilya sent this thing, whatever it was, into its prison.'

Elrond raised his weary head, lifted his hand and showed Vilya to Glorfindel. The Balrog slayer gasped and felt goose bumps rise on his arms while cold shivers ran down his spine.

The deep blue colour of Vilya was now tainted with black. The dark colour whirled around in the stone and it grew, slowly but steadily.

'What... ?' Glorfindel draw in a shaking breath. 'What does that mean? Do you tell me, that this, whatever it may be, has escaped and is now trying to take over Vilya and it had chosen Estel as its next victim?'

'No,' Elrond replied. 'It does not take over Vilya. It is taking hold of... me.'

Glorfindel gasped and jumped on his feet. 'When did it start? Maybe we can shove it back again, like Gil-Galad did the last time. Maybe we can find a way to destroy it once and for all. Maybe –'

'Sit down and let me tell you!' Elrond ordered and Glorfindel obeyed immediately too shocked to contradict. 'It started almost five years ago...'

'WHAT?! Just one moment. Do you tell me now, that you fought against this thing for the last five years without telling anybody? Glorfindel rose again on his feet, leaning over the desk to face Elrond. 'Forgive me my friend but..... WERE YOU MAD?' Breathing heavily Glorfindel yelled at the lord. 'Why did you not tell me or your sons what had happened? Perhaps then together we would have been able to find a solution.'

'WHAT SHOULD I HAVE DONE IN YOUR OPINION? MEETING MY SONS AT DINER ASKING THEM HOW THEIR DAYS WAS AND THEN TELLING THEM "OH, BY THE WAY, SOON YOUR FATHER WILL BE A KILLER WHOSE INTENTION IS TO HUNT DOWN WOOD ELVES FOR SPORT AND KILL THEM"?' Elrond yelled back, no longer able to control his emotions. He felt exhausted and weary and his only wish was to end this matter once and for all. Over the years he had searched for a way to get rid of that evil and now he thought he had found it. But he nearly had not the heart to tell Glorfindel what he must be done.

Panting, Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath before saying, 'I'm sorry, Glorfindel, I should not yell at you, please forgive me. But please sit down. I have to tell you, what I found out and what has to be done.'

Glorfindel sat down again, and waited. Elrond took a deep breath and prepared himself for the final part of his speech.

'What I found out was that the crimes in the second age were not the first one. It started all much earlier, you know about the crime done to the Teleri long ago, by Feanor. I found out that this thing was the reason for it. Morgoth himself sent this cloud to the world to assure that the elves would kill themselves. It is told in old reports that the day Feanor and his men slaughtered the Teleri the day became dark with black clouds swirling around the Noldor. Every time one fragment of the cloud touched an elf, he killed with more brutality anyone had ever watched before.' 'When the cloud disappeared all the possessed elves became normal again, crying about what they had done. They could remember everything and not few of them committed suicide. That was what Morgoth always wanted: destroy the creation of Illuvatar without doing it himself. This cloud was the creation of Morgoth and it carried his cruelty and his hatred for all beings he could not control.

'After the downfall of Morgoth the cloud disappeared and everybody thought that it had vanished. But it only slept, for it came back ages later, and nobody knew it. Sauron used it for his purpose but he could not control it so he banned it but it escaped again, to show up in Greenwood. That was when Gil-Galad banned it into its icy prison in the Northern Waste, hoping that no one would be able to get there and free it. But he had underestimated its powers and that it would be able to free itself.

'I know it chose me because of its history with Vilya. It probably thought that it would be fun to use the bearer of the ring that banned it three thousand years ago. But I think I found a way to destroy it, and not only ban it for the next centuries until it shows up again and starts again to kill innocent beings.' Elrond sighed and squared his shoulders for his final statement.

'To kill it, I need your help old friend. I have to ask you, because I think you will be able to fulfil this task.'

Glorfindel leaned forward afraid of what would come next.

'I think it can be killed when it has a physical form.' Elrond continued 'I beg you to do me this one favour. When this thing overtakes my body completely – you will know when the time is right.'

'Kill me!'

TBC