The Dark Elf Trilogy: Part One
Disclaimer: I'm feeling too stupid for a creative disclaimer. Don't own anything except all dark elves mentioned in this story and all things related to them, minus the Iron Mountains.
Note: First, I changed the name so it sounds cooler. Second, I'm lacking suggestions for hobbit name, but that's all right because of this really cool site Raea gave me. Speaking of Raea, where is she? And Tpfan333?
Evalyne: (blush) Why thank you! Looks like I have another consistent reviewer...
ShadowStar21: I assure you, I'm TRYING to make it longer. (Sob) Succeeding is another matter. But I beg you, Mudannen lû ann na narn hen. (Sigh)
Lindele: (Is extremely happy. 'Nuff said.)
Little extra note: Thanks to my friend Lucien Jones for helping out and giving my cool paragraphs. (I ripped off your name and character when creating Lucïen, obviously...except you are so not that sexy. Ah hahahahaha! That was my strange sense of humor, by the way. Plus, Lucïen is pronounced as 'Lu-SIGH-en'.)
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Mists shrouded the well-traveled path and a light rain fell. The rain shimmered on the mullioned windows. Drops welled upon the elegant ledges of the windows, overflowed to trickle down the marble walls of the structures that made up Rivendell, where the raindrops collected in puddles from the city to the road, which Legolas and Alhana happened to be traveling on.
The journey had been relatively fast and uneventful, not surprising considering that orcs and goblins were practically extinct. Still, Alhana was slumping miserably on her saddle, coughing fitfully and glowering at the sky, making certain that the Valar were aware of her ire and disapproval. For someone who had lived in tunnels all her life, this was a perfect example of the horrors in the Surface World.
Legolas, on the other hand, was fairly cheerful and almost seemed to dispel the gloom of the day. With no assaults or battles, a simple drizzle seemed welcoming and refreshing. In fact, the previous days had been sunny and breezy, adding up to one of the best journeys he'd ever had.
Dark elves, however, had a completely different attitude. Alhana remembered the very first time she had studied the history of her race, which included a 'briefing' on the Surface World. She remembered the words of the master of Lore had spoken as though it was just yesterday.
"Outside of here," he had flung his arms dramatically towards the exit of the mountains for further effect. Alhana turned and could see a tiny pinprick of light far ahead. "An awful and terrible world awaits you. Each day, a great ball of fire rises into the open sky above, bringing hours of light greater than the most powerful spells we could ever cast!" Student's gasps rose about all around him.
"Even in the night, when the ball of fire has gone below the far rim of the world, one cannot escape the uncounted terrors of the Surface World. Dots of light-and sometimes a lesser ball of silvery fire-mar the sky's blessed darkness."
"Once, we walked the surface of Middle Earth," his tone changed now to one of lament, "Most of you have not even lived that time, though some of our older students may have experienced such." Alhana was one of them. "During that time, we walked besides those we now call our enemies-the surface elves!" Cries of disbelief sounded around the room. The Master nodded enthusiastically. "It's true! Once we thought them our friends, we called them kin! We could not know, in our innocence, that they were the embodiments of deceit and evil. We could not know that they would turn on us suddenly and drive us from them, slaughtering our children and setting fires to our homes!" Kellarin raised his hand eagerly, anxious to add to the master's tale.
"The elves were afraid of what they could not understand, what they could not control. They realized that our ancestors were powerful in magic, too powerful. Therefore they sought to destroy us." He said triumphantly. The Master nodded. "Exactly. Without mercy they pursued us across the surface of the world. Always we asked for peace, always we were answered by swords and killing arrows!"
His voice ceased its constant rise and softened. "Then- we found these mountains," He waved his hand, indicating the tunnel walls around them, "Our solace, our refuge-our home. Our orphaned race hid in the mountains and fought off our enemies, and we remain here since, our power growing stronger every day. They dare not attack us now. Here, deep in the mountain, we built Luna Sanctum, dedicated to the unseen force that gives us our powerful magic."
Magic that is getting weaker, not stronger, Alhana thought bitterly.
"We are the Dark Elves!" He cried. "You are the dark elves, never again to be downtrodden, rulers of all you desire, conquerors of lands you choose to inhabit!"
"The Surface?" Alhana inquired.
"The Surface?" echoed the Master with a laugh. "Who would want to return to that vile place? Let the other races have it! Let them burn under the fires of the open sky! We claim the Mountains, where the stones of the walls show the heat of the world's power!"
"He sounds like a dwarf," Her friend Lucïen had sniggered.
Naturally, Alhana, ambitious as she was, had not been satisfied. Every day, unknown to the Elders, she exposed herself for small periods of time to the sun, forcing herself to adapt to the unbearable heat and light. Torturous months she had endured, vowing that when the day came, she would have revenge of the hateful elves the Master had described. Vowing that one day, Middle Earth would feel the true might of the Dark Elves power...
"The rain's getting heavier. We should stop and set up camp." Legolas' voice instant jerked Alhana to reality. She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, we should set up camp." She agreed, "and get away from the damned rain," she muttered darkly. She turned to see Legolas grinning at her and flushed, she hadn't intended to let him hear her. She dismounted her horse and face the elf once again. "Yes, set up camp. There is much we need to talk about."
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Anthrios muttered and cursed his sister heartily under his breath as he made his way up the hill. The weather was a complete opposite of where Alhana was currently situated; it was burning hot to the point of torture. He collapsed gasping on the top of the hill and closed his eyes. When I wake up, he thought, I will be back in the Mountains, where it is nice and cool and no stupid sun with stupid wizards and stupid assassinations. This assured, he opened his eyes, to be politely greeted by the sun glaring at him in the eye. He yelped and tumbled all the way down the other side of the hill, cursing and sputtering all the way down. Picking himself up, he thanked the heavens that no one had seen him in that undignified position. He sighed, remembering Alhana forcing him and a small group of fellow dark elves to endure training in sunlight with her. It had been to worst moments of his life. And to what gain? If he could, he would snatch the sun from the sky and crush it under his foot. But then, he thought grumpily, the sun would probably burn my foot instead. He looked up, and to his surprise, Gondor was only a few miles ahead. He could see it in the distance. Dusting himself off, he checked that he still had all his weapons and tools, not knowing that his arrival was expected.
Not long after, he arrived at the gates of Gondor. Fortunately, clouds were beginning to amass on the sky, so it was a simple matter to blend into the shadows and sneak pass the guards. He loitered around and slunk about in the shadows until night, marveling at the various plants he saw to pass the time. Thankfully, darkness fell over the bustling city just before he died of boredom, which he expected to happen anytime soon. He glanced around, then clambered up the wall of the building nearest to him. According to Alhana's descriptions, this was most probably the place where the wizard would be found. Then he flipped himself over the railing and made his way to the only door.
To a surface dweller, he might have passed undetected only a foot away. His padded footfalls were too light to be heard, and the pliable and perfectly crafted meshed armor bent and creased with his movements as well as if the suit had grown over his skin. He had little light to guide him, but it was not needed. He was a dark elf, whose eyes had been adapted to see well in dim light, sensing the heat that radiated from objects. Living things, of course, where the most distinctive, letting dark elves view their enemies as any surface dweller would find in brilliant daylight. In fact, only years of forced training enabled him to see at all in daylight.
The oiled hinges made no noise as it swung forward slowly. Anthrios grinned as he saw the shape on the bed. Easy kill. But something was wrong...the body did not seem to give out much heat. In fact...there was no breathing.
He whipped back the blanket. Nothing! The body had been an illusion! Trap! He exclaimed silently. He started to spin around, but then realized he couldn't move. His body had frozen for absolutely no reason. It was then he realized that his intended victim was now standing right in front of him. "I knew I should have studied magic instead of weaponry," he muttered.
Gandalf chuckled. "You seem to differ from your sister...we may have hope after all."
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Legolas emerged from his tent and was surprised to see that the fire was already blazing merrily. Alhana sat staring into it, not even seeming to notice his return. She must have heard him though, as she made an inviting gesture with her hand. "Telo na i naur..." she said softly.
Legolas jerked in surprise. "You speak Sindarin?"
Alhana shrugged. "A little. An old friend of mine used to study the languages of other races, much to the irritation of the Elders. But then, 'know your enemy' was always his motto." She raised her eyebrows at him, wondering if he would get the obvious implication.
He did. "You consider elves the enemy?" Legolas asked. "Of course. They drove us from our homes, and chased us all over Middle-Earth, desperate to eliminate us. They very nearly succeeded, may I add."
Legolas was horrified. That did not sound at all like what he called his race. "Why? There must have been a reason."
Alhana's voice became harsh. "Because they rejected those that were different. Our ways seemed strange, even dangerous. We meant no harm." The coldness of her voice left an uncomfortable silence in its wake.
"Do you believe," Alhana said suddenly, "that sometimes you are destined for greater things?" She turned around and looked at Legolas for the first time this night. Without waiting for his answer, Alhana continued. "That is what I believe. It's the only thing I believe in myself. I have seen what the world is like! I have seen the beauty of Rivendell, the lush greenery of the forests, beyond comprehension of any dark elf holed up in the mountains!" Her wide and sparkling eyes suddenly made her seem childlike in her excitement. "I know that I was meant for something else. I know that I was born for a reason. And I believe," The excitement faded, and all that was left was complete sincerity. "That you are part of it."
Legolas wasn't sure what to say. But then...she was right. He did sometimes feel that his journey was incomplete. Compared to what happened to Frodo or Aragorn during the War of the Ring, his role seemed...small. Pathetic. "Think about it..." Alhana said softly. "Gandalf was destined to send you on this mission. The accident in the tavern was meant to happen. We were destined to meet. And," Her eyes sparked. "I am destined to succeed!"
Legolas looked curiously at Alhana. "What exactly are you planning to do?"
Alhana fell silent. Then she sighed. "I did not mean to say that much...but I suppose it is time for you to know a little of my history." She resumed her staring into the fire. After a while, she spoke again. "Remember that certain friend of mine who studied languages?"
"The one who taught you Sindarin?"
"Yes. Well, he was a...very special friend of mine. We were great friend. Closer than friends."
Legolas knew what she meant. He did not exactly feel comfortable discussing the subject (The Valar knew why.), but he was surprised someone as cold and emotionless as Alhana could ever feel that way.
His incredulous look probably showed on his face, as Alhana continued, "I wasn't always like this, you know. A long time ago, my friends and I used to run around playing in the tunnels and laugh. The laughter! It is a sound I will never forget. But as we aged, we began to understand the corruption that runs through our society. Oh, we used to be just like you, we were hardly different, anything and everything that others have said about us is what we have become, not what we were." She threw a glance at Legolas, who felt unexplainably guilty. "It is the propagation of lies that binds us together, the ultimate perpetration of falsehoods repeated so many times they ring true against any contrary evidence. The lessons we are taught of truth and justice are so blatantly refuted in everyday life in our wicked world it is hard to understand how we believe them. Still we do." She sighed. "Even now, the thought of that frightens me, not for any physical pain or possible death-I have trod down many roads equally dangerous in that way. What frightens me is what when I think of the survivors, the graduates, existing– reveling – within the evil fabrications that shape their world."
"They live with the belief that anything is acceptable so long you can get away with it, that self-gratification is the most important aspect of existence, and power only comes to he or she who is strong and cunning enough to snatch it from the failing hands of those who no longer deserve it. Compassion has no place in our chaotic city, and yet it is compassion, not fear, that brings harmony to most races. It is harmony, working toward shared goals, that precedes greatness."
"We have lived so long with the deep hatred of the elves and mistrust of other races, that we begin to turn upon each other. Betrayal is hard to forget. Lies engulf the dark elves in that very fear and mistrust, refute friendship at the tip of a steel sword. The hatred and ambition fostered by these amoral tenets are the doom of my people, a weakness they perceive as strength. The result is a paralyzing, paranoid existence that we call the edge of readiness."
"But I..." Her voice suddenly changed, her eyes were filled with the distance of one reliving sweet memories. "I too was like that, I was no different. Then one day, I faced the very time and place that was meant to be the end. But my dear friend Kellarin-the one I spoke of earlier- managed to save me in time. Then I learned the true meaning of friendship. But I also learned what it meant to feel helpless."
"Before that, I believed I could stand alone, that I was strong enough to conquer my enemies with my will alone. Arrogance convinced me that by sheer determination I could conquer helplessness itself. I was stubborn and foolish, I must admit, for when I look back on those years now, I see quite clearly that rarely did I have to stand alone. Always there were friends, ones I could actually trust, lending me support even when I believed I did not want it, even when I did not realize they were doing it."
She sighed. "Kellarin, my dearest and oldest friend. My brother, of course, clumsy as he may be. My parents, harsh as they were, they taught me how to survive. My fellow dark elf Lucïen, aiding me in whatever crackpot quest I had in my youth. My old friend, the one who taught me to trust, ironically dying at the hand of her own sister. Arwen, though she may be the racial enemy, I owe my life to her. Someday I will repay her and be free of that binding debt. These are the ones who justified my principles, who gave me strength to fight against any foe, real or imagined. These where the ones who fought against the helplessness, the rage, the frustration. These were the ones who gave me life."
Legolas had been listening all this while, entranced by the story of her people. But then...listening to what she says, not all of them could be that way...no race is pure evil. A living example is in front of me. "What happened to them?" He questioned.
Alhana blinked. "To who?"
"You friends." He prompted.
Alhana's eyes brightened. "Ah, yes. The whole point of my journey. As I mentioned, an old friend died at the hands of her sister. I had failed; I was not able to save her. Then another friend died fighting, and another from a dagger in the back. I failed each time; I always arrived too late."
"But one day, one fateful day. Kellarin and I were...exploring yet again. And again, I was too late to save him. But this time it was different." Her eyes glittered. "If I can't fix the past, I will change the future! He died, but that didn't mean he had to stay that way!"
Legolas was startled. "You plan to bring back the dead?"
Alhana nodded. "In a way, yes. But there is more to it. No normal being could bring back the deceased, even the strongest dark elves living. Unless, the past was changed, unless we managed to save-"She stopped abruptly, cut off by Legolas jumping to his feet and whirling around.
Legolas' eyes gazed at the bushes and forest warily. He had definitely heard the sound of someone stepping on a twig with a soft crack. He whispered the words he thought he would never say again since the end of the war.
"Ambush."
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Anthrios stood awkwardly in front of the very man he had attempted to kill, waiting for someone to break the silence. After a few agonizing moment, the wizard spoke at last. "I don't suppose you have any idea what you're doing." He said mildly.
Anthrios was offended. "What do you mean?! I was supposed to kill you! Plain and simple! Which I obviously didn't manage," He grumbled unhappily.
Gandalf chuckled. "Yes, obviously you didn't. However, has your dear sister-"Anthrios jumped about a foot in the air, "-told you at all the purpose of the quest you aid?"
Anthrios blinked and thought hard. And thought harder. "Eh...no." He admitted, feeling incredibly stupid.
A grave look passed over Gandalf's face. "You know of the War of the Ring?"
"I guess so."
"And you know of the death of your old friend, Kellarin?"
Anthrios stared in disbelief. "How do you know all this?"
"I have my ways. Yet if I had known earlier, I would have stopped Legolas from following Alhana. A near fatal mistake, " Gandalf remarked dryly. "But that is not important. So you were meant to kill me so that I would not be in the way." He eyed Anthrios shrewdly.
He winced. "Sorry?"
"No, no, don't apologize. I take it as a sign of hope, she fears me still." Gandalf muttered. Anthrios supposed he meant Alhana. "Well, just so you know, I have absolutely no idea what is going on. But you would know, of course." Anthrios sulked. "No one tells me anything."
Gandalf laughed out loud at the adult elf's childlike behavior. "Well, I am about to." He sighed. "Your sister Alhana is not as cold or emotionless as she thinks, she had quite strong feelings for her friend Kellarin, in fact."
Anthrios eyes went wide at this statement. "She loved him?"
"Not really, I don't suppose she knows the true meaning of love. Neither do most dark elves, for that matter. But she thought she was in love, and wanted to be in love, so in a way, she was. And of course, she would not have taken his death very well."
"But she did!" Anthrios interrupted, "She came back and announced that he had been assassinated, as though it meant nothing to her! Of course, that sort of thing happens all the time, so everyone had forgotten who Kellarin was by the end of the week-"
"Not everyone." Gandalf interjected quietly. "Your sister never forgot. She rarely forgets anything, and this death meant everything to her. It caused her great pain, but she had a goal to strive for, a purpose in her life other than to simply survive in your chaotic city."
Anthrios ignored the comment on his homeland. "Vengeance? Many people are dedicated to revenge on those who killed one of their clan."
"And they are riddled by bloodlust, killing more than they mean, and inevitably, this leads to warring clans. But still, Alhana lied. Kellarin was not assassinated."
"He lives?"
"He is very much dead. But he was not killed by a fellow dark elf, not even a dark creature."
"Doesn't that rule out most options?"
"Not at all. He had the honor of being murdered by Sauron."
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Legolas counted the number of shadows emerging from the forest as he drew his twin swords from their sheaths. Seven to two, an unfamiliar fighter on my side. He thought grimly. This will be a tough fight. He could hear Alhana whispering and moving back, he assumed she was going over whatever magic she had at hand. Before he had time to think about how she would battle, one of the more aggressive 'shadows' jumped into range of the firelight.
Dark elves! He realized with shock. He had not time to ponder this, however, as the dark elf burst into his defensive position, wielding a long, narrow spear. He came right in on Legolas, slapping with the butt of his weapon, then spinning it over full in a brutal thrust designed for a quick kill, a strong move perfectly executed.
Fortunately, this dark elf probably had not seen much combat, and Legolas had fought in a war. Regardless of not having fought in four years, he had the distinct advantage and he launched the proper parry. His swords spun counterclockwise in front of him, striking the thrusting spear in succession and driving the weapon's tip harmlessly above the striking line of the wielder's shoulder.
The aggressive attacker, stunned by the advanced parry, found himself open and off balance. While his opponent stumbled, a ringing clang sounding from behind him diverted Legolas' attention. He risked a quick glance back and realized that Alhana had somehow managed to conjure up a simple, magical shield and her attacker was now clutching his head in pain. Unfortunately, the shield then disappeared, and the caster seemed much more exhausted. But then, it had served its purpose. Alhana then drew a whip from her belt and launched an attack on the disorientated dark elf.
Assured that Alhana could take care of herself, Legolas turned to face his current opponent. To his surprise, a look of fear crossed over the dark elf's face and he scrambled away into the forest. Alhana realized the same thing as he did. "Cowards! They do not fight to the death! Drive them away, and we will be safe!" Alhana called over the cracking of the whip.
One down in only a few minutes. Legolas still wasn't happy though. Now knowing how skilled they were, two of them ganged up on him all at once, another one had run off while the remaining two had Alhana surrounded and the odds weren't looking good. He had to trust that Alhana could defend herself if he wanted to concentrate.
Proving to be far more skilled than one of his three attackers, he soon forced him staggering off with serious wounds. The other two were cunning foes, though, and familiar with each other's movements. Their attacks complemented each other slicing in at Legolas from widely opposing angles.
Legolas had taken on more warriors in combat before, and now he lived up to his name as a war hero. His swords worked independently, yet in perfect harmony, foiling every attack. He saw the frustration mounting on his opponents' faces, and he knew that his opportunity to strike would soon be at hand. Then they crossed up, coming in together with identical thrusts, their swords barely inches apart.
Legolas spun to the side and launched a blinding uppercut slice with his left sword, deflecting both attacks. Then he reversed his body's momentum, dropped to one knee, back in line with his opponents, and thrust in low with two snaps, twisting slightly so the flat of the blade would catch the first, then the second, squarely in the groin. They dropped their weapons in unison and fell back, then decided wisely to retreat into the woods.
Legolas felt encouraged. He had driven off four opponents without leaving much trace of a battle, and hopefully no traveler passing later on would see any bloodshed and linger in this dangerous place. Then he remembered Alhana. He spun around, swords at the ready, to see her struggling to fight both opponents at once, the fight having carried to behind a line of trees. "Help me!" she cried out.
Legolas dove into a roll through a break in the trees, came up quickly, and downed a forth opponent, who was concealed for a backstab surprise, with a blow with the hilt of his sword to the head. The dark elf tumbled to the ground, unconscious. Legolas stopped to consider his latest victim. He hadn't even consciously known that the dark elf was there, but his aim had been perfect! Perhaps he hadn't lost his touch after all. He looked up to see Alhana make short work of the last attacker, sending him flying into the forest. Legolas smiled in triumph, confident they had won. But Alhana still seemed uneasy. "What's wrong?" He asked, concerned.
"Too easy..."She muttered. "First of all, dark elves never venture far from the mountains, myself being an exception. Why would they be here? The only answer is someone wants to kill us, or me at least. But then, they ran away, meaning they had no orders to kill. Second, these elves are obviously trained in weaponry and combat. And yet seven against two, we defeated them too easily. Dark elves that weak would have never even survived adolescence. No, they were not prepared. So what is their true purpose, I wonder..." Alhana mused.
Legolas felt his skin prickle. "We are close to Rivendell, are we not?"
Alhana blinked. "Yes, of course. It's less than a mile away."
He shivered. "Something terrible is about to happen. I can feel it."
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Anthrios sighed as he walked back up the hill he had previously tumbled down. I should start a business. Idiot assassin for hire for wizards! Does what he's told due to lack of independence! He thought sourly. If it wasn't one crackpot sorcerer sending him off on a mission, it was another. Same difference.
But then...he was stunned at the true motive of his dear sister. Well, her motive according to Gandalf anyway. He could hear the words playing over and over in his head, not quite drowning out the nagging voice that seemed to be consistently complaining.
"Your sister wants to restore Sauron in exchange for power and Kellarin's life!"
"Dear lord..." Anthrios muttered. Why? Why did he have to be cursed with such an ambitious sister? Why couldn't she just stay in the damned mountains and dedicate her life to surviving, like everyone else? Almost everyone. He reminded himself. He himself was traipsing along the outskirts of Gondor, and the Valar knew where the rest of his companions were. They were probably aiding Alhana. Which only proved that everyone would be living happily (Well, not exactly happily.) in the mountains right now if it were not for her. But then...her crazy ambition was what brought all of us together. Her ambition taught her, and all of us, that sometimes a team is better than being alone. And that teamwork eventually led to friendship, and even trust, something I thought I would never feel. She observed the elves, the men, the dwarves and the halflings. They did more than merely survive, they lived and laughed and worked; the gains they made were shared by the whole, as was the pain of the losses they inevitably suffered as a product of life. Joy multiplies when shared among friends, but grief diminishes with every division. That is life. On that night, the first night I followed her away from the mountains to watch the elves, I witnessed life that, deep down, I secretly always hoped it would be. I could never return to simply surviving. And with friends I could trust, I could believe I did not have to.
Anthrios sighed again. The Mountains had no place for such idealistic thoughts, he would surely perish if he continued thinking that way, a few of his group had proved that. But did he hope to find acceptance of this on the Surface? Was that is subconscious reason for wanderlust?
Was it Alhana's? Gandalf's words came again to his mind. "Your sister is to be pitied, not hated. The saddest part is the quest started out of love, but her dark ambition has turned most of it into a quest for power. Perhaps she does not even know this. But still, she has nothing to gain, and everything to lose. Why would Sauron keep his promise to a puny dark elf whom he could effortlessly destroy if he was returned in full power? She is being used."
As Alhana is using many others. But that was a dark elf's natural way. As different as she was, she was still a dark elf, and she always would be. But he must focus on his new objective.
"You must stop her. For the sake of Legolas, for the sake of all life, for the sake of Middle-Earth. You must stop her."
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"Legolas! Stop!"
Legolas slowed his horse, but his agitation was clearly shown on his face.
"We cannot hope to reach Rivendell until tomorrow. Night has already fallen, and if those mercenaries indeed have plans for your people, we must place their fate in the hands on the Valar." Alhana gasped out when she caught up with him.
Legolas reluctantly saw the truth in her words. Then he noticed how tired she was, the way she slumped on her horse. "Are you alright?"
"I will be," Alhana replied. "My magic, as of all dark elves, is weakening as years pass. Every incantation taxes us greatly, and sometimes they do not work at all." Every word seemed to cost her strength.
Legolas gave in and halted his horse. "Very well. We shall have to set up camp again though." It took much longer than before, Alhana on the verge of collapsing. After some time, they were lying comfortably around a blazing fire. Alhana smiled and turned slightly, and Legolas caught sight of the whip yet again. Although he knew he should let Alhana sleep, curiosity overcame him. "What strange craftsmanship," He commented, his gaze on the whip.
Alhana's interest seemed to be aroused. "Why yes, it was crafted by dark elves, so it would be natural for you to have never seen one before."
Legolas' eyes strayed to the ends of the whip. The carvings were intricate; it seemed perfect in a sinister way. It resembled three whips with a single handle, but it was what was at the end of it that startled him. Each whip ended in the head of a snake.
Alhana might have noticed his appalled expression, but if so, she ignored it and continued. "The heads on the ends of it are dead and motionless of course. A long time ago, when our magic was much, much stronger, this was a standard weapon for all dark elf sorcerers. They could channel their magic into the weapon, as though it was an extension of themselves. The snakeheads would come 'alive' moving and striking almost independently. That power, of course, is now far beyond our reach." This fact seemed to put Legolas more at ease. Alhana, however, did not seem to share the same feelings. "How I wish I had been old enough to train with it during that time..."she sighed wistfully.
Legolas' hand hovered over the hilt of the weapon. "May I?"
Alhana smirked slightly. "As you wish."
Legolas' hand closed over the hilt. Almost immediately, an awful numbing cold seemed to spread up his arm and he was overcome with a feeling of horror so great it was a wonder he didn't go mad. He released the weapon immediately. "It is a weapon of evil!" he whispered. He could swear the snake heads were laughing at him somewhere on a distant plane.
Alhana's eyes returned to their reflective state. "What can you expect," she said softly, "of a race shrouded in darkness?" She turned away and would speak no more.
Legolas stayed up hours into the night before sleeping, contemplating the life of a race dedicated to chaos.
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"Alhana of Clan An' Daemon. Pleased to meet you again." The shadow that was Lucïen, leader of the band that had attacked Legolas and herself earlier, bowed in what might have been respect or mockery.
Demon Night. The ancient name of their dark clan spoke what was expected of them. "As am I," Alhana smiled briefly. "I must compliment you on that perfect mock attack earlier this evening. I apologize for any injuries caused, of course. The elf was much more skilled than I had expected, I admit."
Lucïen smiled mockingly. "Admitting you were wrong? Why, Alhana, this is certainly unexpected of you." He stepped into the moonlight.
Alhana was slightly taken aback at how the previously scrawny Lucïen had changed over ten years. But then, the only communication since then had been coded messages scribbled in tunnels or the passing of messages. Now he was tall and slender, with features similar to Alhana's in cold beauty, he was clad in a soft black tunic as well as the soundless chain mail typical of a dark elf assassin. He smiled again. "Welcome back, my friend. Welcome to our new 'home'." His voice was as sweet and clear and seductive as flute music. He gestured for her to come inside the large makeshift shelter where several dark elves- all familiar- were lingering. His movements were graceful, sinuous. His hair was dark and soft, worn shoulder-length. Alhana was charmed by him, captivated by him, until she looked into his eyes, so different from her own. They caught her, held her, began to absorb her. She tried to shift her gaze, yet the eyes refused to release her. She had finally met her match.
"I suppose you want our plans to be carried out immediately." Lucïen drawled carelessly, turning away.
Alhana, no longer spellbound by Lucïen's gaze, returned to her former self. "You suppose wrong. I want the deed done by next evening. Not too late, or I might have left by then. Not too early, or you would probably kill me as well. I should say...exactly an hour after the elf and I leave the city."
"It will be my pleasure," Lucïen assured. "But when will you return to the scene?"
"A little late, I suppose," Alhana replied. Lucïen arched an eyebrow. "My own safety, of course, will be assured that way." She hurriedly explained.
Lucïen nodded. "Understood. But don't take too long..." With that, he disappeared into the shadows once more.
Alhana turned away and let out a shuddering sigh. She had not told Lucïen the truth, it simply wouldn't be right. How could she explain to him what she could not explain to herself? She was a dark elf, cold and ruthless, not caring even the slightest for the world outside the mountains.
But the truth was...through the experience of long years, which embittered her and cost her so much, she came to hear the screams: the screams of rage from the leaders of the dark elf society, the high priestesses of what used to be LunaSanctum, echoing down the paths of her mind, ever to hold a place within her mind. The screams of dying children.
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"Rivendell," Legolas breathed. They had finally reached their destination.
Alhana nodded, but glared darkly at what was the city of her enemies. "Yes, Rivendell. Well, I might as well deliver my message and be done with it." She glanced at Legolas. "You should go first. I am not very welcome here."
Legolas did not move, but looked curiously at Alhana instead. "Who exactly is that message for?"
Alhana did not seem too enthusiastic to answer that question. "The elf I seek happens to go by the name of Elrond." She spat out the name like a curse word. "Heard of him?"
"Of course! But that is impossible! At the end of the War, Elrond and the rest of the Ring-bearers-"
"Haven't you heard? They've returned. Every one of them."
"How? Why?"
Alhana looked at him. "Those questions are not mine to answer," she said simply.
Legolas, seeing that she would not give out any more information, sighed and dismounted his horse.
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"I do not lie! They are coming!" Alhana cried.
The Council shook her heads and murmured in disbelief. Elrond was to first to speak. "Why should we believe a word you say, dark elf?" He emphasized that word. "Your race is known to excel in treachery and lies. In fact, we would have put you to death, if not for your friend here." He frowned at Legolas.
"The only traitors you face are the Men," Alhana said passionately. "They are never satisfied, they want control over this city itself!" Her proclamation was greeted with laughs of derision.
"I assure you, the Men have shown no hostility to the Elves at all," said Elrond patiently. "And I fail to see your gain in 'warning' us."
"I will say it again, and for the last time," was Alhana's angry whisper. "They are here to destroy you. And I warn you because I see no gain in the elves being destroyed. I did not mean to bring this up, but you know of the Oath of Vengeance."
The laughter was immediately silenced. "Ah yes," spoke Elrond softly. "The Oath of the Dark Elves. And I suppose that if the Men 'destroy us all', there will be nothing left for your race to annihilate? Reminding us of your precious Oath does not exactly compel us to believe your warnings."
Alhana closed her eyes. "Someday, you will see. When you look upon the ruins of your city, remember that your sworn enemies tried to warn you all. Remember that you threw away the chance to save yourselves." With that, she walked out of the room, leaving Legolas unsure whether to stay or follow. Elrond made that decision for him. "Stay, Prince of Mirkwood. We have our own warning to give."
Legolas blinked. "Warning? Against what danger?" He noticed that every elf was staring at him solemnly.
"Against the dark elf, of course. I do not know what spell she cast over you to cause you to accompany her, but you obviously would not have made such a foolish choice on your on behalf. Dark elves are treacherous, using their 'allies' to-"
"Not all of them." Said Legolas shortly. He could feel a twinge of anger against the statement that his choices were not his own.
Elrond stared at him worriedly. "And how would you know that?"
"Alhana is a living example," Legolas' voice was stronger this time.
Elrond nodded knowingly and look around the Council. "Just as I thought. She had manipulated his mind-
"She has not! Who are you to be so sure of yourselves? You don't even know her!" Legolas cried out in anger.
"I understand that your mind is not clear, but you should know that-"
Legolas interrupted. "What I know is only what you and my people have told me. Everything in my life is a one-sided account. How would I know the truth? You would portray yourself as the good, mercilessly tortured and attacked by the dark elves for centuries. But what of Alhana's story? The dark elves were driven from their homes; many killed and were forced to retreat to the mountains. Their evil is not what they are; it is what they have become. And who made them that way? You. Who forced them to turn to the dark? You. And your side of the tale seems to have gaping holes." Legolas finished triumphantly.
Elrond was startled by his angry words. "You speak as though the elves were evil-"
"What is evil but the opposite of good?" Legolas interjected softly. Then he turned to leave. "But one more thing, no disrespect in this. Why are you here? Why are all of you here?"
Elrond knew he spoke of the Ring-bearers. "I do not completely know. But I do know one thing-The scales of balance between good and evil has been tipped. We are here to restore the balance." He sighed. "If I cannot sway you from your current path, I admit that I might be wrong. But even if my words go unheeded, I must tell you this: Dark elves have done us great harm more than once. And Sauron has been defeated. What other evil would there be to tip the scales?"
Legolas faced Elrond once more. "You are right. Perhaps it is the dark elves. Perhaps it even might be the Men. But I am sure of one thing: It is not Alhana." Then he left, and left for good.
Elrond closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer for guidance to whoever might be listening.
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Long enough?
Ae ú-dhambeth tôl o chen; ú-narn tôl o nin! (If no review comes from you; no story comes from me)
Translations: (Sindarin to English)
Telo na i naur – Come, sit by the fire.
Note: I DO NOT make up the Sindarin, nor do I use the Grey Company Whatever. I use the REAL Tolkien Elvish, everything taken from trustworthy dictionaries and phrasebooks. (For more info, see Navear Laliath's webpage.)
Another note: If I have any mistakes, please inform me because it was too freakin' long too check. Thankee!