Disclaimer: And if I owned them. . .
A/N: I know this took forever and a day to update, but here it is. Yes, this is the last chapter of "Of Blackest Hate" but this is part one of a three part story. The next one will be called, "Of Darkest Desires." I write this author's note at 12:38 AM of November 6, 2004. Any further delays are to be blamed on my lazy and wonderful beta, who we shall now take a moment to thank from saving us all from my horrific mistakes. Thank you to all of those who have kept reviewing, and remember– reviews are my drug, my picker-upper, and my ultimate weapon against writer's block, which has been a cause of this delay. And for all those of you who read and did not review...Bad reader! Do better this time– the next installment will be up more quickly and you will be free from this suspense I have left in my wake sooner!
Joee1: You'll see how it turns out. . .in a while. . .a long while. Hey, if there's a way to persuade you, go ahead and let me know. Your reviews are always appreciated.
Hyperactive Forever: I have my own odd grudges, but go ahead– I have time to listen. In fact, I enjoy hearing just about anything. Especially if it's in a review. . .::nods suggestively:: Well, here's what happens– you're probably going to hate me. Thank you for your comment.
Daeomae: I'm glad you like, her e is the update!
Chapter 9: Price to Pay:
The grey clouds shifted, blocking the newly risen moon that marked the beginning of another sleepless night for the many citizens of Imladris. Three days and two nights of constant searching for Elrohir had now passed. Night three was just beginning.
Elladan was in a torment, constantly pulling on the bond he'd had since birth, and the newly imposed bond with Melime, panning for a location. Nothing. There were faint sparks of recognition when he walked through the woods– but no more.
He knew where Elrohir had first awoken, and where, he knew sweet oblivion again. The raven- haired elf would go on long excursions accompanied by only Legolas, horses in tow. He would find remnants of the path and his fair-haired friend would map and memorize them, urging him to concentrate on finding more. In dark times, the Mirkwood Prince could be just a little too good natured and optimistic.
Day and night had no meaning now. They continued in a never-ending cycle of light and dark, agony and lack of reprieve, frustration and lack of breakthrough. Elladan was honestly unsure of how much more of this torture he could take. This was his twin for Eru's sake! His other half!
Elrohir was so terribly injured, and so helpless. And yet, he was the one captive. While he– the elder, the more eager for danger, the more belligerent, the unharmed –was free. Had he known such guilt before this? Maybe when he had pushed his brother out of the tallest tree within a half-a-mile of the Last Homely House and nearly killed him.
Elladan made a silent and secret oath to do anything at all possible to save his twin. No one knew. No one would. No one had the power to stop him.
"You brought me the wrong twin!" the cloaked woman raged, retreating deeper into the shadowed cave that temporarily hid her from the world. The misty voice was shrill. "I need the one with the bond!"
The blonde trembled, fully aware that her mistress had power enough to destroy her, "Am. . .mm. . .min hir. . .raetha," she stuttered, the confident liar who had remorselessly preyed upon the week of Imladris was lost, in her place stood an undisguised, gradually broken, stuttering, terrified being who had retained nothing of her former self besides intelligence and a conniving mind.
"Lady Hithwen, the other will come– if we threaten his brother he will trade himself for his freedom!" She confidently burst, "Plea. . .plea. . .please don't b. . .be a. . .angry," remnants of the proud, faithful elleth that once was had flashed through her fearful, deceiving puppet of a replacement. But as always, the realization had returned near instantly and sunk in just as fast– She was nothing. A shell of smiles and charms her Lady could channel power through at her almost best. But those moments, the moments when the Lorien elf that had existed before captivity, torment, long-ago cast spells, and monthly potions flashed through had become her reasons to live.
"You are sure, Melime? You are sure he will find the way? You understand that I must have him? I must have the strongest child of the union of two branches of the house of Finwe!? I will have my just revenge!" Intensity radiated from her acidically bright emerald eyes as the hood of the cloak slipped from her head. Frustrated, she flung the garment across the room, leaving her too-slim form clothed in an old fashioned gown the exact hue of the cloak she'd cast away.
The body she'd worn for centuries was almost elven, but few elves could carry a grudge for as long as she had and retain every bit of its heat, and the hate she carried showed. A face that should have been beautiful was forlorn and hateful at the same time, the eyes stormy, and the too-pale cheeks were slightly sunken. Long raven hair fell to her knees untended, and bangs fell into her acidic eyes. The light of the Maiar was utterly gone from her, and all that remained of her existence was power.
"Yes, m. . .m. . .m. . .my lady. He will come. I am c. . .c. . .cer. . .tain. We'll br. . .ring him to y. . .your mountain. He. . .he w. . .will not be f. . .found until 'tis m. . .m. . .much too. . .too l. . .ate," she murmured.
"Good. He is perfect. There will soon be more in this world like you," the Maiden of the Mist pushed a lock of hair out of her face with a bony hand and smiled a ghost of a smile, "Finwe's house shall lose a warrior. You know it should have been Celebrian, that night you were brought to me. The great-grandchild of the mighty Noldo king should have fallen into my hands, not into the hands of a din horde! Why were you so loyal? You could still have been real."
The blonde hung her head in shame, and no answer came. She had chosen this, this life, so that another would not have to live it. And sometimes, she loved her own evil. The dark elleth left the room without a sound. It was time to prepare.
Elladan's silver eyes lost the empty void that had filled them almost instantaneously. The pale orbs widened as the trail he'd so struggled to find formed itself in his mind. Hope. "Legolas," he hissed, "you have your bow?"
When his friend quickly nodded in reply, the elder of the twins added, "Good! Follow me!"
"You see it?" the Prince of Mirkwood asked, leaping onto the back of the horse he'd been leading.
"The entire way. . ." his raven-haired friend confidently and somewhat proudly drawled, before following suit, and mounting his own steed, "We'll get Elly back. I know it."
The pair followed a rather dodgy, flickering trail through the woods. Elladan copied Melime's route exactly. From paranoidly doubling back, to circling trees– he mirrored every ridiculous step, his golden-haired friend following each somewhat unnecessary turn.
The darkened elleth knew how to avoid detection– not a mark, not one foot print or hoofprint was left to mark the road she'd used –the kidnaping had been planned down to the wind-speed of the day. But the bond that she'd readily opened left a map written by the perfection of elven memory to be used. Elladan was grateful– there was no way he would have otherwise found this.
The Noldo knew he was most likely walking into a trap. One that could easily cost him life and freedom alike– the latter being more likely. Though he was immature– one would have to be a fool to find Elladan dim-witted –and it would take a someone of unusually low intelligence to think he hadn't been shown the way for a reason.
Was it to get him out of the way, the one person who had all the connection that could free Elrohir, or was it to lead him into a fate similar to his brother's? Elrond's eldest knew not. What he did know, was that twins had a duty to each other unlike any duty in the world. This duty, this bond forged before birth, was one he would give anything and everything for.
Legolas knew and understood the dangers of their more-likely-unfortunate-than-not escapade. A challenge, an adventure. The Mirkwood Prince relished the thought, the odds stacked against them in yet another battle. Nothing new. They'd been through this so many times before. They'd go through it many times again– or so he hoped.
Melime, or whomever she'd betrayed her home and lord for, had controlled that vast multitude of orcs that'd come at them– when by her "somewhat" unusual ability –they'd been convinced to hunt. And they knew and understood without a shadow of a doubt that the Black Arrow had flown from her bow. But by no means was it hers– it did not bear the colors she had always patronized. She was not represented by black and forest green.
Since before her coming to Imladris, Melime was known for her eternally favored chromacity of silver and celadon. Always. Who did she serve? Who was powerful enough to control so large a din-horde? The leagues fell away as Legolas pondered the many questions.
Quite suddenly, Elladan came to a sharp halt, "We need to leave the horses here, the place, it's just beyond those trees– silently now."
With the great stealth and soundless grace only elves can hold claim to, the pair approached the clearing towards which Elrond's eldest had driven them all along. The soil was relatively bare besides several patches of dried grass, and the randomly strewn rocks. But the small cave contained within the stone shelf, the small cave that trees hid from all eyes was as familiar as ever.
"So she took her hiding spot right out of our memories. . ." Elladan whispered. When they were but elflings, the three had developed the notion of running away, after hearing the tale of Turin Turambar. After many terrifying hours of wandering through the dark woods in circles, they'd come. . .here. To this very place. It'd served as a shelter for the night, and a cherished play-place fore many years after.
"The circling and the doubling back. . ." Legolas added, "That was the exact route we took all those years ago when we first came here, why?"
"To toy with of course," came the familiar voice in a completely unknown tone. Evil, playful, dark.
Melime. And behind her, no less than four-dozen, burly men, well-armed to a fault.
A new voice sounded. Mist, forest, and night rolled into sweetened darkness, "Melime– let me handle our visitors."
The too-slim female approached the elder twin soundlessly. A bony, long-nailed hand clasped Elladan's chin gently– the way an adult would act with a child who was not paying attention to a lecture –and her emerald eyes locked with his, "I shall give you two alternatives twice-descendant of Finwe. You risk the lives of yourself, your injured brother, and your lovely friend in a full fledged battle against the warriors I have trained since near-birth– they've nowhere near the skill of you and your companion, but, ah, there is strength in numbers. Or, you can trade yourself in. Your brother and friend shall go free and unharmed."
The raven-haired elf sized up the opponents before boldly placing a hand on his sword, "I choose war," he plainly stated, "War." The emerald-eyed woman yanked her hand from his face as if his smooth skin burned her.
Try first, despair later. A worthy mantra.
Silver eyes flickered to the petite, golden-haired elleth that unexpectedly began pushing through the crowd of warriors, dagger drawn.
The well-ordered lines parted before her, and the path remained clear for the two elves to follow– which they dutifully did. To the very mouth of the cavern they went, and Melime stopped next to Elrohir's unconscious form, which had cruelly been suspended from the stony ceiling. "Well, since the two of you are planning to die– we won't be needing him anymore!" The silver, emerald encrusted dagger flew to a white throat.
"No! Stop! Don't!" Elladan flew back to the emerald-woman's side, "I offer myself."
"You are sure," she stated, more a comment than a question. A wise and wistful smile crossed her face.
"I offer myself," he repeated. "He is hurt, he is my brother, my twin. He needs me now. I offer myself."
The blade flew instead, to the rope that had held Elrohir upright. Legolas dove to his side and caught his friend's tumbling form before it hit the ground.
Elladan turned to his friend as he allowed his wrists to be tied behind his back, "Take care of him for me, Legolas. Promise you will take care of him."
"I promise," the Prince of Mirkwood simply replied as he pulled the frayed ropes from the younger twin's wrists.
Keen eyes missed nothing as the dark group mobilized with their new prisoner. The two elves exchanged another glance and Legolas did not take his eyes from his friend's slowly disappearing form once as he whispered something to Elladan's steed and climbed onto his own horse with the unconscious Elrohir in his arms.
A/N: Review! Please! (Beta's Note: Sorry if I missed any errors.)