Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: This is just a story I couldn't help writing, but to all of you who are reading 'Unexpected', don't worry. This won't be interfering with that, I promise! Well, here's Chapter One of 'Grief and Grace'! Might be slightly AU, but not too badly.
Responses to my lovely reviewers: Goddess Of the Fallen, (grovels at your feet) You are just the best!!!! short arse, oooh, thanks for reviewing this one! love ya! Psi, thanks, as usual! hikaris, here's more! lol BButtercup, thank you so much! Sunn-Kissed, well, see, it's just that I think he deserves some praise, and in an entirely un-orlando-bloom way (nothing against him, though). I mean, he is the last Elvin prince, and there had to be a reason that he was chosen for the Quest. I'm glad you liked it mostly, and I'll try to tone it down a bit, but not too much! :) Icy Flame, thanks! I'm really happy you like it! and legolas/haldir…yum! Elandili, thank you!!!! Setrinan, thanks so much!! acuamaine, no need to beg! here you go! lol
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It's quite odd, Glorfindel thought as he hurriedly mounted Asfaloth, how very quickly your entire life can be flipped upside down. Everything had gone fine during the mid-day meal at first, everyone from Elrond to the kitchen maids laughing and singing happily as they'd taken a break from preparing for the winter celebrations that were to be held in five days time. That was until the twins had literally fallen out of their thrones, landing hard on the marble floor as their gray eyes had turned completely silver, shining like mithril. Both had grabbed their heads, moaning in pain and dislodging their circlets, while everything had come to a sudden, stunned standstill.
"What evil is this?" Glorfindel had exclaimed, leaping from his own high-backed chair and falling to the ground beside them. Elrond and Erestor had been a second behind him, and all three had exchanged dire looks before the twins had begun flinging out words in a disjointed, frightening pattern.
"No, you mustn't…"
"You cannot fight it…"
"Saes, no, astalder…" Strangled cries had left their throats then, and phantom bloodstains had appeared on their lower backs. Understanding had dawned on their elders, and they'd been able to do nothing but watch with wide, dismayed eyes and sinking hearts. ((please)) ((valiant one))
"It will kill you…"
"Take her and flee, a'maelamin…" Their suspicions all but confirmed at those words, Glorfindel had felt a heavy veil of melancholy fall over him. They'd obviously been connected to Legolas, feeling what he felt, seeing what he saw. Elrond had sucked in a sharp breath beside him, and he'd known that his friend had come to the same conclusions, one of which stood out in his mind brighter than any other. The mentioned female was Arwen. ((beloved))
"Gods, no…" The twins had bent double, grasping their calves that time and only staying upright due to their elders' firm grasps. The next affected body part had been their left arms, shortly followed by their abdomens, and Elrond's patience had snapped under the anxiety engulfing him.
"What does he face!?" He'd demanded of his sons, shaking Elrohir by the shoulders as imagined scenarios involving his precious daughter dead had filled his mind. When he'd received no response but a hoarse moan, he'd repeated himself, his voice turning slightly hysterical and completely unlike his usually unshakeable timbre. "What does he face!?" The shouted inquiry had finally seemed to reach his sons, but their simultaneous answer had caused pandemonium to break loose instantly all over the hall.
"The Witch-king of Angmar!"
"What!?" Glorfindel had shouted, sorrowful words of lamenting already blooming in his head. Cursing and crying, Glorfindel had raged inside his mind. Was he truly reborn only to experience the death of another Elvin royal that he cherished? What cruel trick of fate was this? Then the twins' hands had gone to their thighs, and more of the phantom blood had sprung up through their leggings and robes. True fear had crossed their identical faces then, before it gave away to relief and joy.
"He has done it! Cund-min has defeated the Morgul Lord!" They had exclaimed joyfully, their words ringing through the hall and shocking the gathered Elves more than they had already. ((Our prince))
But then their faces had fallen again, and they'd very nearly passed out, their eyes bleeding back to stormy gray. They were incoherent for minutes afterwards and barely able to stand. And now, now, they were riding out from Imladris at full speed, their horses sensing their urgency and almost flying, their silver and gray hooves barely touching the earth. The twins were in the lead, their eyes wild and crazed, their bond to the prince drawing them forward unerringly. Their long raven hair flew out behind them, the silken strands tangling and untangling in the wind, their fingers wrapped tightly in their steeds' manes. But for all their speed, Glorfindel could see no hope.
It was a two-week ride to Mirkwood, and Legolas and Arwen would be at least halfway through already. Which meant they were five days from them if they kept the horses topped out the entire way, which they couldn't possibly do. Even their horses' endurance wasn't that great. Convincing the twins of that was probably going to be the most difficult task of his life, he thought grimly. Looking over the company, he shook his head. Elrond had demanded to come, so Erestor was staying behind to run Imladris during his absence. It would be hard to convince him, too. The Elf got completely irrational regarding all things Arwen, but then again, most of them did.
Blanking his mind, Glorfindel knew only the wind rushing past him for hours, knew only that the trees were thickening and the sun setting. The latter brought him to full awareness again, and he knew that they would need to make camp soon. The forest was too dense to let in much moonlight, and even Elves needed some light to see, let alone their horses. Drawing up to meet the twins, he motioned to Elladan to stop. He was ignored. Trying again, that time with Elrohir, he felt his patience trickling away as he was ignored. Again. Taking an arrow out of his quiver, he leaned over and whapped the elder twin with it hard on the arm.
"What!?" Elladan snapped, stopping so suddenly and so quickly that his mount bucked and spun in order to keep itself and its rider from falling. The rest of the company slowed, the fifteen other Elves with them softly calling their own horses to a halt.
"We must make camp." Glorfindel said, and when the twins' eyes narrowed and they opened their mouths to refuse, he continued. "You know that we must. We will never reach him before he is taken by shadow if we kill our horses the first day out! We will fly as soon as the vása crests the horizon, I swear it." ((sun))
"Do you not understand?" Elrohir asked in a ragged, strained voice that made Glorfindel's heart clench. "We can feel him. We can feel his agony and despair; we can hear his fëa crying out for us."
"Make camp." Elladan intoned, surprising them all. Elrohir turned to him, pure rage glossing his features before their eyes met. Then he seemed to calm, although both still looked utterly wretched.
"Yes. Make camp." Elrohir agreed, and Glorfindel started to question them before changing his mind and deciding to simply thank the Valar for small favors. He would worry about their easy acceptance later.
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"Thalionen, please wake up!" Arwen begged, shaking her friend by the shoulders. "Saes, you must!" ((My champion/hero)) ((Please))
Legolas didn't respond, of course, he hadn't in what felt like forever. She and his wolves had dug him out from underneath the tree, and they had stayed with him while she'd found shelter. Luck seemed to be with her, and she'd found a fissure in the side of a mountain that opened up into a branching, underground cave. She had scouted it carefully after calling Akso to her side, and she hadn't seen any evidence of other life living within it. Not recently, anyway. Thanking the Valar for good fortune, she'd crafted a litter and went back for her friend. It had taken hours to drag him to the cave even with her strength, but they'd finally made it, much to her relief.
That relief had been short-lived, however, when she had seen the extent of his wounds. They'd already been infected, and were swollen horribly. She'd seen him receive worse wounds, but none had ever reacted that way afterwards. Damning the Witch-king with every breath, she had spent the last few hours in a healing trance, doing all she could for him. She knew in her very bones, however, that it wasn't enough. Her friend was dying, she could see it, smell it, sense it. He was changing, the poison of the Black Captain's blade twisting his spirit even as she watched helplessly. Sitting at his side, his limp, cold hand wrapped tightly in hers, she felt her hope leaving her.
"Saes, Legolas! You must fight it! You must not die; you must not leave this world! I know this, I know it. Goheno nin, goheno nin…" She whispered over and over, her heart breaking farther every time that his breathing faltered and nearly died out. ((Please)) ((Forgive me, forgive me…))
"Avaro naeth, gwathel." Legolas's voice nearly caused her to come out of her skin. ((Don't worry, /sworn/ sister.))
"Legolas!" She cried, tears welling up in her throat when she saw his forest-green eyes clear and untainted. "Oh, thank Ilúvatar! Manen le, pen-bain? How do you feel?" ((How are you, beautiful one?))
"Like I was chewed up by a dragon and spit back out." Legolas said, those glorious eyes sparkling with mirth. Then they turned serious. "How bad is it, Arwen? Truthfully." She took a deep breath, steeling herself and trying to view his injuries as those of any other Elf, and not one of her dearest friends.
"None would be too dangerous if they had been made from a different sword." She said, her eyelids falling closed in sorrow. "Even if it had only been your calf, arm and back, I would not be so worried. But the wound on your abdomen is festering much too quickly, and your thigh…The poison from both went too deep for your natural resistance to stand a chance. I've tried to stop it, but—"
"Say no more." He cut her off gently, grimacing as another wave of pain hit him. "I understand. Do not forget what I said in the tree. Do not forget my farewells…"
And then his eyes glazed again, and to her horror, fell shut. He was still breathing, though, his chest rising and falling erratically, and she somehow stopped herself from breaking into a fresh round of tears. There were things she had to do, things to keep them alive until help came. Her only worry was that that help would take too long. No one would even know that they were missing for another week, when they didn't show up in Mirkwood. And it would be almost another week before they had any chance of being found. Legolas would not last that long, she knew that. But she couldn't travel with him either.
They would be easy prey out in the open forest. They wouldn't be in danger from the woodland creatures, but there were still orcs and wild men to be concerned about. Not to mention that they were close enough to Mirkwood to have to watch out for spiders. Rising to her feet, she began her work. The first thing she did was gather dead branches for firewood, to keep the cold away. They usually wouldn't have bothered unless they were cooking game, as the chilly air did not bother their kind, but with Legolas wounded and so cold already…She did not want to take any chances. Soon enough she had a good-sized pile at the cave mouth, and she began her other tasks.
There was enough moonlight outside for her to find a few herbs that would help her in dressing his wounds, a few more that would lessen his pain, and she weaved a quick, simple basket from the sparse patches of dry, dying grass. Placing the herbs inside it, she made another basket, but that one she coated with waterproof oil from their packs. She had brought it for exactly such an occasion, although she'd had no idea just how bad that occasion would be. Going outside and expanding her senses over the immediate area, she was dismayed when she could hear no trickling water. She would have to go and get some, then.
"Sereg! Akso!" She called, and both wolves loped over to her from where they'd been laying with their mates in a circle of warm fur around Legolas. Dropping into a crouch beside them, she scratched behind their ears as she spoke. They didn't like very many Elves, but they accepted those that Legolas trusted, and she felt honored every time that the great beasts let her touch them. "I must go for water, for I hear none near us. If you will come with me, Akso, Sereg and the others could stay here to guard our prince."
They agreed with her without any fuss, recognizing the need for fresh water. Sereg trotted back to Legolas's side, and Akso sat back on his haunches and watched her as she quickly made several more baskets, as many as she could carry. She didn't know when she would be able to leave again, and needed all of the life giving fluid that she could get until the early snow began falling. Coating each of the new baskets, she barely had enough oil, and thanked Eru that she'd remembered to bring any at all. She truly hadn't thought one of them would be wounded so severely on a routine patrol. Getting to her feet again, she went inside the cave.
"Legolas?" She queried, and when she received no response, she bent down beside him. "I'm going to find water; Akso's going with me. I shouldn't be overly long." She brushed a mithril-streaked golden lock off of his face, tucking it behind one delicately pointed ear. "I will find a way to help you. Someway, somehow, I will find a way. It is not your time to die, Legolas Thranduilion. Idho mae." And then she was gone, strapping her bow to her back and picking up her baskets, beginning her hunt for water with the dark gray wolf on her heels. ((Rest well.))
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Elladan and Elrohir had demanded the first watch, saying that they would not be able to find any rest that night anyway. After many suspicious looks from Glorfindel, their request had finally been granted by their father, who was already pale and drawn from his constant worry over Arwen. He cared for Legolas as well, and he knew how much the prince meant to the twins, but their sister was his jewel since their mother had sailed. And they thought of her, too, thought of her out there on her own with a single warrior that was wounded. A single warrior that they both loved, that they were bonded to. As Elvish twins, they shared one fëa and one lover.
The only exception to that rule was their father and his twin, Elros, and only because Elros had become mortal and severed their fëa in two. He had returned part of his half to his twin so that Elrond wouldn't fade, but Elladan and Elrohir knew that they would never be able to do the same. The thought of life without each other was absurd and unthinkable. But the thought of losing Legolas was unbearable. They knew that they would fade from grief if he passed into the Halls of Mandos as sure as they knew that the flowers would bloom again in the spring. He was their sun, their hope, their love and their life. He was everything.
The Mirkwood Prince was barely more than three centuries older than they were, which was nothing, really. The only thing that had made him any different from them was that his few extra years had placed him in the War of the Last Alliance. They had been born right after, whereas he had been born right before. By the time the War was fought, though, he had been of age and had fought with the rest of his people. He had also watched a third of them die. They had wondered over the blankness in his eyes sometimes, and they'd had to sing him back from grief more times than they could count before their bonding over six centuries ago.
But they hadn't really understood until their mother had been taken. Then the weight of grief had become a very familiar burden to them. And who had sung them back? Who had sat with them night after night, whispering soothing words in ancient Teleri until their tears had stopped? Who had helped them hunt down the orcs responsible until none still breathed? Legolas. There was a light about him, a furious, burning flame unlike any they had seen before. Even the land seemed to take notice, and the prince had stronger ties with nature then Erestor himself. Elves all over Arda sung of his beauty and skill, but none loved him like they did.
"Elladan?" Elrohir called softly, jarring his brother from his thoughts. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." Elladan whispered back, and they rose to their feet slowly and silently.
The rest of the camp was sleeping, their open, glazed eyes and even breathing proof of that. Even Glorfindel had eventually drifted off, which was a blessing in their eyes. Sneaking away from him was never easy. They gathered up their packs and bedrolls, and made for the clearing where their horses were grazing. They knew the horses needed to rest, and they knew that their companions needed to rest. But they could not. So two hours after midnight found them creeping away, walking their mounts as they would do until dawn. Brushing a hand through his horse's mane when they were almost a league from their camp, Elladan froze when he heard something.
"Do you hear that? It sounds almost like a—"
The word 'horse' died on his lips as one came out of the darkness before them, from between two massive trees. They recognized the mare instantly, and marveled at the fact that she seemed to have followed them from Imladris. It was Legolas's steed, one that he'd had for over two centuries. She was beautiful and strong, much like their prince, except where he was gold and silver, she was midnight and charcoal. Her coat was like a starless night sky, except for her legs from the knees down and her mane, both of which were a smoky silver-gray. Her name was Moriára, Black Dawn, and no other name would have suited her better.
"I almost feel as if we should have expected this." Elrohir stated dryly as the mare slid up beside them, her every movement full of power and grace. She immediately started tugging on their sleeves and throwing her head back, whinnying and stamping her hooves impatiently.
"I think she wants us to mount her." Elladan commented with just a bit of fascination.
The mare rarely let anyone besides the prince so much as touch her, even them, but now she wished for them to get on her back, which was unheard of. He could clearly recall the time that Legolas's friend, Oronindo, had boasted that he could make her let him sit upon her back. Legolas and the twins had tried to tell him that they doubted he could make Moriára do anything, but he hadn't listened. It had been quite amusing for all watching to see the Elf get thrown off after about three seconds, landing headfirst in the wet mud by the lake. It had been even more amusing when she'd charged him moments later, and he'd run into the lake to escape, screaming his head off and telling Legolas to call her back.
"I, for one, don't want her angry, so hurry up and get on." Elrohir replied, obviously remembering the same incident.
They both mounted cautiously, neither wanting to get thrown if she suddenly changed her mind, which she was wont to do. She stayed perfectly still, though, and Elrohir curled his fingers around her mane carefully while Elladan settled behind him, his arms going around his twin's waist as he wrapped his own fingers in the dark gray hair. She started out at a good, steady speed, not too fast for the other worn-out horses, but not as slow as they'd been moving on foot, either. She seemed to know which direction to go, as if she knew as well as they which direction their prince lay in. And so began their journey to find their mallen-lass and their sister. ((golden-leaf))
Their father and Glorfindel would just have to forgive them for leaving like thieves in the night. They had asked Asfaloth to keep watch in their stead, and he could sense any approaching danger as well as they. And they could not stay still for the duration of an entire night while knowing that their bonded lay bleeding and dying, cold and alone but for their baby sister, if she was even still alive. They had the healing hands of their father, and they were two instead of one, at least in bodies and power. If they could reach him before he gave in to the shadow, then there was still hope. If they could not, then neither would live out the next full moon without him.
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Well, there you go! Updates may be a little bit apart, as I'm dedicated to another story at the moment, and I know that if I let this interfere with 'Unexpected', my reviewers might revolt. So stay patient, please! I promise that I'll finish. :) PLEASE REVIEW!!!!