The Folly of Men

by Celebdil-Galad and Tinlaure

Vengeful marauders snare Legolas to be an underworld prizefighter in their cryptic domain of darkness. Aragorn discovers the only way to liberate Legolas is to be captured himself, but both must combat an ancient prejudice that could mean their demise....

13. The Hell Fire

CHAPTER 13

The Hell Fire

Legolas woke slowly, his head was reeling and that was an understatement, he thought wryly as he gingerly tried to bring the room that seemed to be swirling into focus. He found that he was not alone as he tried to shift into what could be called a sitting position. Hands pressed on his shoulders and securely kept him from moving at all. He bit back a cry as he felt fingers probing along the large and long gash he had received running from his hip down to his knee. These men, as he guessed they were, were none too gentle and he struggled to try and get out of their grasp. A strong voice commanded him in such a way he suddenly felt compelled to listen, which disturbed him greatly, "be calm Elf, we are not trying to harm you. That would do neither of us any favors at this point, I think, though that may change."

Legolas knew then that he was still in the world of men, in the mines; for no Elf would call him 'Elf'. It was a fact that he was bitter to admit. He bit back another cry of agony as his injured leg was jostled and asked the human that had been addressing him earlier, "are you sure of that assertion Master human? Can you verify it for me?"

"Indeed, I am sure. Your wound is great and needs stitches, but it is coming along nicely. You soon shall be able to fight again." Legolas winced as his world came into focus and he saw the man, tall and muscular from labors in the mines looming above him with raised brows," and you will fight," he added tensely.

Legolas muttered nearly to himself, but audible enough the man could hear and understand in no uncertain terms what it meant, "don't be so sure. Even the wise cannot see all ends." His blue eyes met the addressed mortal with malice that was slowly building. They looked as though they were deep pits of blue ice as they returned the human's baleful glare to the tiniest sliver of ire and scorn.

"How right you are Elf, how right you are," answered the man in turn and he smiled in a knowing and mocking smile that taunted Legolas' hold on his temper dangerously. He narrowed his eyes for greater affect and continued undaunted.

"Glad we can agree on something," he responded in a tone that rang with a dreadful sardonic chill that Legolas had purposefully placed into his voice for emphasis. He swallowed another cry of sharp pain that was lancing up his leg at intense intervals. However, he kept his gaze calculatingly dead of emotion save for the fire in his eyes that glowed as though nothing could quench it; nothing could put it out.

"You taunt me Elf. And how can I refuse to answer your challenge? However, now is not the best time, as you are healing and I have patience to spare….at least for the moment," he added with a sigh that made Legolas' blood pressure rise another notch. He just raised a brow and said;

"Go ahead and kill me master Human."

"Perhaps later, but that is up to you Elf," answered the tall man rather briskly before inclining his head ever so slightly to the right and staring down at Legolas as though the prince was an object that he had to find a clear space for on a shelf. However, Legolas thought that if he were an object, he would not be collecting dust.

Legolas watched the man intensely, thinking of a sharp remark, probably worthy of gathering a painful punishment. But sanity's thin tendrils grasped hold of him just in time to spare him the breath it would take to make such a statement. He was growing obnoxiously weary of staring back at this boring human and he tossed his gaze amongst the other men that were holding him to the ground as his leg wound was cleansed and they prepared to apply stitches. Legolas was sure they were going to make the stitches be an utter torment and he made a mental note not to even so much as hiss when the needle pricked his flesh.

Suddenly he heard a cry, unpolished and certainly more than furious scream, "you little rapscallion! Do you want King to rip you apart again or are you just stupid?"

Legolas snapped his head towards the tunnel that he just came to the realization was behind him and heard the dull noise of chains clinking and scraping and of feet scrambling on the floor. He heard another voice scream, come and get me! I will take on all of you! Right now! I dare you to attack me! I dare you!" it finished in a lethal voice that was loud enough for all in that meticulous part of the mines to hear.

Legolas crinkled his brow, for the voice sounded so familiar and yet he could not place it. King rolled his eyes and inclined his head the other way in exasperation before saying with a sigh, "the little whirlwind has been loosed again I see." Legolas looked at the man with a clueless expression before he recalled that was not going to make him seem anymore wise or resistant. "I had best go deal with him." He took and unwound a scourge from his side ere he walked stiffly off towards the tunnel where the screams were eliciting from. For the entire world, it sounded like a cat fight or a dangerous battle between a warg and a prey that had seemed smaller than it really had actually turned out.

Legolas struggled to get up and was rewarded with a slap on his face. "Hold still damn it!" Legolas struggled further and ignored the burn he felt on his features. But they pinned him down and he winced, biting back a hiss when he felt the sharp spiny point of the needle press into his skin near his knee, where one end of the gash ended.

Legolas suddenly heard a screech, "touch me again you miserable cowards! Go ahead, kill me! I do not fear death!" He wondered who was causing such a stir that the men's ire was fully gathered towards this being that according to words spoken before, was short and yet mighty.

He looked over between winces and saw the men returning and in tow behind them was a short being…. short Elf! This immortal had flaming red hair streaked with bright blond and he was resisting for all he was worth. His heels were pressed into the ground, digging up dirt and pebbles; his face was contorted in a rage.

When the torchlight fell upon the haggard and yet strong features, Legolas saw that this Elf actually had a few freckles.

But this was not what had the blond Elf's jaw dropped in shock, though it was an odd characteristic sure enough.

Legolas knew this small Elf. He had a been the talk all over Mirkwood since the day he and his identical twin brother were born a few weeks after Legolas had. But that was not the reason Legolas recalled him so sharply.

Though Legolas had been a foot and some considerable inches taller, this cheeky Elf had beat him up unmercifully and had been so horrible that Legolas had hid under his mother's skirt on a few occasions before he had mastered the art of self-defense. Even then this little red-head had given him a run for his money and Legolas had to admit that he had still been frightened of the younger being.

It had become such a problem though, that the juvenile Elf's father, Captain Celebalda, had seen it fit to send the young menace to the Gray Havens, lest he should he banished and die with no hope of cure for his rebellious and temper biased nature.

But that day, when this small Elf was to be sent to the Gray Havens with his mother, his twin brother, who was of a much more gentle and docile nature, his sister and some other random Elves who agreed to guard the family, met an evil fate.

It was only this Elf's sister, Aredhel, who returned and told the whole tale of what had occurred. But she did not return until late in that season.

It was then that they had learned what had befallen the party of Elves that was on their way to the ships.

Men had attacked them and their defense had not been strong enough. She and her two brother's, along with some of Mirkwood's finest archers had fought valiantly to protect their mother, But fate had indeed been stronger and in the last stand she had been wounded and unable to protect her brother's, who were younger. Her silver hair had fallen over face and to all appearances, she seemed dead.

But the more violent of the brothers, the one here with Legolas now, had stayed by his twin's side. He had fought to the last bit of strength he could find, but he had not saved his dear brother that he loved. As an arrow was shot at him, he ducked it and from lack of experience did not call out for those behind him to duck. The shaft sank into his brother's throat and slayed him cruelly.

As the small Hell Fire of red-head held his dying brother, he was overborne by many and dragged away, fighting and screaming at his captors the entire way.

This was all they had ever known of him until now.

"Caranfëa," murmured Legolas quietly to himself as he pulled the name from memory. His face was paler and his eyes wider. He suddenly yelped as he came to the realization that these men who had captured him were continuing to apply stitches and that needles, like all things spiny, were sharp. Imagine that! He said to himself and inwardly slapped his own face. " Caranfëa!" he called out to the short Elf that was still making quite a scene and jerking wildly against his bonds like a mad thing of some odd species of warg.

The red-headed immortal halted and looked at Legolas through a set of narrowed eyes that were slits of bright green under his perfect red brows that crinkled and made a definite crease between them; a sign of his uncertainty and extremely unpleasant mood. He frowned and asked in the Gray Tongue, "who are you? Why are you here?"

It had been long since he had since another Elf. Indeed, it frightened him slightly. He stopped fighting and stared intensely at the prince that he had not seen for quite some time. "Prince Legolas?" he asked in the Elven tongue again, though it was in a mere hush of a tone that could hardly been heard by any Elf's exquisite hearing.

Legolas nodded and a smile touched his lips. The other frowned darker and glared up at his subjugators with a look of shear defiance in his emerald green eyes that were so bright they nearly glowed in the dark.

The man that had been called King earlier dropped the chain manacles attached to Caranfëa's wrists and ankles, that he had been using the extra length of to beat the Elf into submission and as though what he'd had done was a mere nothing and then he began to walked stiffly over to Legolas, where he lay on the ground somewhat in shock. Not shock of these abominable men's cruelty, that would hardly surprise anyone; no, it was the fact that this Elf long thought to be dead….lived. He was not an Elf that Legolas had really ever wanted to see again, though he had not wanted him dead either, but now it was welcoming to know that another being with the fire of life still hot within him dwelled here. It meant that perhaps he had a slight chance.

King….if that was this foul and grossly cruel human's name, was not going to give them a chance if he could help it however. Legolas spared him an incredulous and baleful glare that would quite probably have a made a Balrog run in hot pursuit of the opposite direction. But this, however, left King unmoved. He merely inclined his head to the left and stared down at the Elf again as he gestured for the men holding the struggling Caranfëa between them to lock him away and rotated his eyes to insure that his bidding was done and hurriedly. That was not necessary though, for the men all held him in high regard from fear….or some other reason Legolas did not yet know.

His eyes slid over the prince's wound and then looked into his eyes with a smile, "don't tell me that does not hurt. I know it does. Otherwise, why would you try to be more defiant than what you really are when you are so very tired?" The tone in the mortal's voice was by itself a good enough reason for the prince to leap to his feet and place his hands around that human's skinny neck and squeeze.

The fair-haired Elf answered quickly, "I defy you on basic principal Master Human." He spat at King's feet and the man took a step back. Legolas smirked slightly and he could not deny that he had not enjoyed that brief moment of control.

"So you admit to be tired? You admit your leg pains you then Elf?" King raised his brows and began to walk in a small circle about the blonde being, Legolas did not move his head, but his eyes trailed the human with every move made.

"I admit nothing." The prince's tone was flat but far from empty or hollow.

King snorted and said, "whatever you say Elf." Then he looked at the men returning; "put him away next to that red-head and make sure he gets fed. I want him to be ready for the Pit in at least two weeks; less if possible."

Without a word to question their leader's request, the men surrounded Legolas and gripping under his arms, proceeded to help the Wood-Elf onto his feet. Legolas resisted the urge to fall onto his mutilated leg. The pain was nearly more than he could bear, for the stitches had not been well administrated and would most likely make the wound worse. He would have to take them out himself and the thought made him ill to the stomach.

They did not have to force him to walk far and he did not struggle much, now was the time to regain his strength and prepare to break free of this horrible dark prison from which their was seemingly no escape.

When he stood before a near cage like prison that was only big enough to hold one and looked all too close in resemblance to that of a bear cage, he felt his heart beat quicken and his anger rise perilously close to the bursting point. If you knew how close I was to strangling all of you…… he seethed inwardly before reason spoke to him that they would only laugh, for he was in no position to be giving orders or fighting.

Shoving him in, they slammed the grated door behind him and Legolas spun around to watch as they clicked the lock into place. Somehow he got the vague impression that they were not about to let him out anytime soon and he sighed inwardly. He missed Rothinzil and wanted so much to see his friend's innocent and joyous face. But he doubted that would ever happen again. Rothinzil was not a fighter unnecessarily, he would quite willingly die first and Legolas felt pain flood his heart as he thought of the probable ending of his friend's life.

Rothinzil would die alone, in pain and scared. He could not believe that was the fate the Valar seemed to presenting him with. And then he recalled Aragorn, but something inside made him refuse to believe that the human was dead. He could not be, it just was not feasible…no….it was more than that. It was the simple fact that if Aragorn was dead, hope was taken from him….from him and the rest of the world.

Caranfëa looked at Legolas with a glare that Legolas thought was forever going decorate the other's facade and the little Elf asked softly, "Prince Legolas, how did you end up here? What have they done to you?" His eyes were transfixed pointedly upon Legolas' leg that was still covered in his dried and caked crimson blood.

Legolas grimaced and answered back near as mellifluously but with a laugh in his voice as he actually took the time to think over what had happened, "would you believe me when I say a warg did it?" A warg of all things! He could have killed it under usual circumstances. But these were not usual circumstances try as he might to think of them as thus.

Caranfëa grimaced as well and he nodded, "aye, I would believe you." He brushed a piece of red hair from his face and gave a half-hearted laugh, "I would never have thought to find you hear my lord." His green eyes flicked with a slight amusement.

Legolas said practically to himself, "Neither would I." Then he answered a bit louder, "You have changed, Caranfëa."

The smaller Elf nodded and said slowly, "yes and it is not for the better, let me tell you!" There was a jaded look to his eyes that Legolas had never seen before and the fire seemed to dim. A light that had once hung around this Hell Fire of an Elf seemed to fade ever so slightly and Legolas felt scared for a brief moment. "I can't take this much more. Are any others with you? If so, I fear for their lives. Especially if they are caught by that mad man, Calmir or what ever his filthy name is," seethed the younger Wood-Elf angrily.

Legolas felt his eyes widen and he swallowed hard. Rothinzil! "One was taken with me, yes. He is with…that man you name." He looked at the floor and slid down along the bars to his prison, the place where he was now certain he would die. He felt his eyes sting as he thought of gentle Rothinzil, lying on the floor with blood flowing from his mouth and his body marred beyond repair or desire to be mended. His eyes still and staring upwards, wide and lost.

All this because of a mad man's ill conceived dreams and his sickening greed. It didn't make Legolas sick; it made him angry. Although, he had to admit, at this point that was not difficult.

Caranfëa bemoaned and said, "Legolas I am sorry. But do not give up yet. We might escape together and we can come back and free your friend." He inclined his head when he heard no answer, letting his long red hair slide down his shoulders and about his neck. "Prince Legolas?"

"You never give up do you, my friend?" he asked the other with a frown that turned slightly upwards in a hollow and sunless smile.

"I do make a point of not doing that, yes," answered Caranfëa chuckling slightly to himself and shaking his head. From where he sat in the corner of his 'cage' the younger Elf looked at Legolas with a frown. "You should not give up so easily."

The prince eyed him with provocation and said, "Who said I was giving up Master Caranfëa?" he raised a slight golden brow and shook his head, his pale hair falling over his face. "This is a resting interlude only." He shifted his weight and realized happily that he had one thing to be grateful for; the cursed collar that he had been obligated by that filthy Calmir to wear was missing and he was not the slightest bit lonesome for it.

Legolas looked down at the seeping wound that ran down his thigh. Where the stitches had been forcefully situated, the skin was turning a shocking flush of irritated red. Wincing inwardly he thought, "those are going to have to be pulled. Valar!" He ran his fingers lightly along it, taking in the infectious heat that it was emitting.

"Pardon?" asked Caranfëa, wrinkling his forehead and inclining his head as he gave the prince a incredulous look that plainly stated he was ignorant of the meaning of the assertion that his liege had spoken aloud.

Legolas gave the red-headed Elf a strange look of confusion and said, "excuse me? I never said anything…..did I?" He withdrew his finger quickly from where he had been tracing his burning laceration and clenched his hands unconsciously into balls.

"You most certainly did my lord," answered Caranfëa with a knowing grin and a small snort that turned into a light chuckle. "You said and I quote, 'those are going to have to be pulled. Valar!' To what were you referring? The stitches? Don't, they will only get worse. Trust me on this," he answered truthfully. He had found that much out from personal experience.

Legolas grumbled nearly under his breath and pragmatically below a whisper, "and what makes you so sure?" He was not in a splendid mood after all and Caranfëa had never served as a joyous Elf at any time, but especially now. Oh, most definitely now, more than ever.

Legolas gave him a bitter glare and his narrowed his eyes as he waited for a hard reply that he knew he would get. Sure enough, Caranfëa was not about to break tradition and answered sharply, "Legolas Thranduillion! Elbereth! You just can't ever be erring can you? That is a weakness you know!" He did not say this with good nature and as a matter of fact, he said it about an inch far away from as bitterly as bitter sayings go. "I know from personal experience that if you mess with them, they get worse. They are designed that way, I think. It is my theory that they have placed a sort of venom in them that can only be activated by the stitches being pulled free and scrapping off the vile stuff onto the laceration, somehow freeing an odd poison."

Legolas rolled his eyes and inquired with a thick growl, "have I ever told you that you are utterly and unquestionably insane?" He was beginning to recall just how annoying this little red-head was. But he had never really pushed it beyond recollection. It was not something that one forgot within a few thousand years.

He then crinkled his face and asked ethereally, "what happened after you were sent away?" He frowned and looked at the floor darkly, as though it might just somehow have gotten them here. "We never knew exactly what happened after your sister was wounded and your brother……" he did not finish. He did not need to. They both knew and that was enough. He drew a shaking breath and spoke quietly, "your father misses you. He has changed since….that particular….incident."

Caranfëa went completely quiet and then answered gruffly and with the air of a question heavy on his voice as he skeptically eyed the prince who returned the look perfectly, "Are you sure you want to know? If you want to run away in terror that's fine with me. But honestly you may not be able to sleep tonight."

"You would not ask me that question, did you know more of what fates have befallen my life since your departure."

"Very well, but really, you don't want to know my lord." He sighed, gathering up everything that beared recollection, things he had not purposefully forgotten. He kept his eyes on the floor as he spoke and picked up a piece of straw in his fingers and twirled it nervously as he spoke. "I was sold to orcs first." A green flame rose in his substantially phosphorescent eyes as he spoke. "They 'played with me' for two days before I was able to escape. The wounds do not bear remembrance, so do not ask."

"But eventually I was recaptured by them, with their dog like noses that they used to track me down. But they were tired of dealing with me and so they 'played' with me some more and then I was left for dead in the bottom of a ravine near here actually. But men found me. At first I was scared, but they were kind, until they noticed my ears and how I was so different than themselves. Then they began to treat me cruelly and I was made more or less into a slave."

"I escaped once, but they recaptured me and I was branded." He did not, much to Legolas' surprise, shiver at this memory. Really, it did not take the prince that much by surprise the more Legolas thought about it. Caranfëa was a tough Elf and not capable of feeling complete terror.

However, the thought of a brand took the blonde Elf's breath away and he inwardly cringed. He could not imagine the searing pain that would score that burn unmercifully. And if that was horrible, Glorfindel and the Balrog had to be ten times as horrible.

Legolas asked as quietly as possible, "but surely these are not the same men…that would make them……"

Caranfëa shook his head and said swiftly, "of course not! I have been sold and sold over and over from old men to young and young men to old. Until finally, after an unfortunate incident (for them), I was sold at the rock bottom price of a bottle of mead! If you can imagine that!" He scowled darkly and his thoughts fell back to his anger from that day.

"How long have you been with this man…King….or whatever his loathsome name is?" asked the golden-haired prince, inclining his head slightly in mystification as he heard the growled reply.

"Oh I have lost track really, but I would have to guess at least around one-hundred years. No more I think," he answered as he tossed the piece of old straw his fingers had been playing with into a dark corner.

Legolas narrowed his eyes as soon as he realized that they had shot completely wide of their normal size and form. "How is that even remotely possible?…Unless……" He swallowed hard and Caranfëa nodded gloomily, his red hair shifting over his façade hiding his grave features.

"He is a Dark Dúnadan, Legolas."

Elméra scrupulously eyed the underground stables where the mules were kept and her eyes narrowed with either determination or wrath. At the moment, she was not sure which. It was most likely both, decided the women briskly. She stood quietly behind a pole attached to the rafters to keep the entire passage way from collapsing into a mass of rock and dust, killing the inhabitance. Her fingers began to drum on the rough-hewn wood uneasily, making a quiet and nearly pleasant clicking noise.

The mules' heads came from their stalls to look for the source of the new noise in their dark environment as they munched straw and oats. One gave a snort and she watched its breath rise into a cloud of dim steam. Brushing some of her long hair aside, she carefully revealed herself to the creatures, so they would not frighten and announce her presence.

A shiver ran along her slim frame as she felt the cold of the winter creeping upon her. She had given her cloak to Rothinzil and now she had only her woolen dress, though that was not horrible when she thought of how she had seen the blonde Elf shirtless.

Rubbing her arms to generate more heat she went over to the stall that seemed to hold the tiniest and most gentle mule she had ever seen.

She had never been so mistaken in her life and she jerked back abruptly as the little creature tried to rip her sleeve with his huge buck teeth.

As she stumbled back, she snapped in a harsh whisper, "well you have a good day too, you grouch!" The mule's face seemed too smug and nearly had the quality of human smugness. Finding this quite disturbing and wondering if she had finally gone completely insane, the women walked over to another stall.

Inside was a large spotted mule, He was quietly munching his hay and he looked at her with large and perfectly gentle eyes that were a deep brown. A smile tugged at her lips, but recalling the immortal she had left dying on the floor of the arena, the maiden quickly grabbed the cotton lead rope that hung on an iron hook near the stall door handle before sliding the wooden latch back and swinging the oak door open.

As she cautiously entered the stall and felt the straw beneath her feet crunch, she watched the creature before her intensely. He seemed hardly concerned about her approach and she could hear his jaws working vigorously as he hurried to gobble up as much food as he was capable before being led out to work as he supposed the reason of her appearance meant.

He seemed to be as calm as a pond in the late afternoon as the sun lazily dances on its waters. His eyes watched her and flickered with friendliness. She smiled and as she drew nearer she soothed in s soft voice, "easy boy. I need your help, easy, easy." He snorted and allowed her to slip lead rope beneath his chin where it connected to the rope halter that lined the mule's lean face.

Quietly she led him out and then she stopped alongside a small and yet moderately high wooden bucket that had been tipped over and obviously, if foot prints were any judge, been used to mount and harness the taller mules before.

She was an experienced rider and could ride almost any horse (or mule), though she most definitely preferred the friendly ones. This gentle creature animal had no saddle, but should that thwart her? Exactly, she said inwardly as she mounted the wooden stool. It wouldn't; at all.

Once she was mounted the animal began to walk as though he knew exactly what this strange and demanding woman expected of him. He was also more than willing to oblige.

His footsteps were light and yet not timid. A cold smile played across her pale façade as her narrowed and chilled eyes that were jaded scanned the mine shaft for any signs that there were miners about, especially her brother.

Now the challenge was getting to that poor hazel-eyed Elf before he died. Yes, she thought dreamily, his eyes were a brilliant and actually attractive shade of hazel touched with an abnormal quantity of green. But what was she thinking? Was she going crazy? He was an Elf and an ill one at that. All she was trying to do was save him, wasn't she?

Patting the course and hairy neck of the beast of burden, she said, "now follow my lead." Carefully she guided the docile animal towards the lengthy passage that led back towards the ring….where Rothinzil lay bleeding and fading.

Although she made it back to the ring moments later with no incident, what she would find would be far worse than encountering her brother and all his animosity. She looked and saw the dark-haired Elf lying on the ground and as though for the first time realized how much blood he had truly lost from that horrible wound. His face was whiter than the snow that covered the ground above them and then she saw he was not moving, not shivering and in the dark his skin looked phosphorescent with the glow of one drained, but the light she had seen him holding earlier seemed dead.

Her breath was stolen away, otherwise it is more than probable that she would have screamed. Elméra placed a hand gingerly over her mouth and slid from the mules' back , landing gracefully onto the supple ground with straw. She continued to blindly stare at the still and pale figure that lay on his back in the straw about him that was stained with his own blood.

Elméra did not know what she felt. She seemed numb, like she felt no pain at all but certainly not joyous. She inclined her head slightly as she walked closer and removed her hand from around her mouth, allowing it to fall limply to her side as she stepped closer to the Elf that she had seen alive only moments ago.

She did not even feel fear, but rather something else completely intangible to all of her senses. It was bewildering and she shivered against her will as a chill draft blew through the now deserted mine shaft. It seemed eerily ghost like and she could see the phantoms of the crowd that had filled the small room to bursting only hours ago.

Elméra jumped lightly down and the straw made a dead thudding sound under her feet. She kicked a clump of it aside in deep frustration and ran the rest of the way to Rothinzil's body and she crouched by it.

She felt her chin quiver just a little as she looked at the long serene face that was colorless with blood lining his whitish gray lips. Her hand trembled and she did not know why, as she reached it out and wiped the dark strands of hair away from his face and ran her fingers along his right cheek bone set her fingers under his chin, tipping his head back.

Elméra had never felt this way about anyone before, not even her closest friend who had died not too long ago of a strange plague. She set two fingers along the jugular of his neck and gently felt for a pulse to come from the cold body. She bit her lower lip, hoping and praying that he was merely unconscious and that she might be able to bring him back.

Her breath seemed stolen away once more and she trembled with excitement uncontainable as she felt the pulse, slow and barely there, residing in his neck vein. Elméra smiled coldly and yet with so much joy that the sun seemed to beam from her face. "you live Rothinzil, you live."

But she did not know how to bring him up. He was completely out of it and Elméra did not have the strength to lift his body. For once she felt genuinely defeated and she sat by Rothinzil, picking up one of his hands and giving it a tight squeeze more to reassure herself than the inert Elf.

Elméra looked up at the mule and wondered if ever she could ever convince the stubborn creature to come down here and kneel lower so she could pick up the dying immortal.

Her thoughts drifted back to where she had heard tales as a young girl on her father's knee about Elves and how they walked on snow in perfect balance without leaving a trace they were ever there. Perhaps they were not all that heavy. After all, she was lighter than most men and this Elf certainly was male, and yet she never had been able to walk on snow.

There was a chance then that Elméra could bear him out of the pit or at least close enough she could rest a moment and pull him the rest of the way out.

She could not think of any other way and cautiously, almost as though she was afraid to touch him, which she actually was, she gathered him up into her arms as gently as she might, ignoring the scarlet liquid that tainted her gown a strange shade of purplish-red hue and bleed through in a fan shape to seep onto her under layers.

His head rested against her shoulder and she looked at him for a moment before she staggered up, finding the burden of carrying this Elf to be surprisingly buoyant. It was not the weight of the dead; that was for sure. She felt her heart speed up as she thought that he was alive and had a chance.

She suddenly felt him stir and looked gingerly down with wide eyes as his hazel eyes opened came into a bleary focus. He blinked and drew a shaking breath and she knew it was a sign of intense pain. His face was paler with waking as the agony became all too real and she could feel his heart rate dropping as it beat against her hand that was across his chest in the act of trying to hold this Elf up. His eyes fluttered once more and he knitted his brows as he felt the pain lancing in his side and his own hot blood covering his middle. The coppery taste of sanguine fluid in his mouth made him wince and he asked softly, "where am I?"

She smiled sadly and said, "still in this cursed pit. I am trying to save you Rothinzil." She looked at her ensanguined hand that was covered with his life's blood. Her voice sounded strong and magical; it made the Elf smile slightly.

The dark-haired archer felt her hand shaking and he grasped hers in his cold one and spoke slowly, "you d-d-d-don't h-have to d-do this. L-L-Let me die." He began to shake with shock and he seemed to be turning colder faster. The blood became more manifested around his mouth and he swallowed some of it down distastefully.

She clutched him close and said, "don't be ridiculous. You can't die! You are an Elf!" She scowled and then she saw his eyes fluttering as he struggled to keep them focused and opened.

He croaked, "that d-d-d-does n-nothing for w-w-wounds." His voice was becoming a whisper and she suddenly felt more alone than she ever had before. She felt crushed and dismembered and all that she had ever felt sure of felt uncertain.

She began to walk to the edge of the gaping hole in the ground that they were trapped in and he mumbled softly, "l-l-l-let me go. I-I-It is no mercy to keep me alive now. P-P-Please don't do this." He drew in as deep a breath as he might and said, "i-i-it h-hurts…." he could not speak anymore and he looked at her a moment before he felt too weary to stay awake any longer. His eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp once more.

She felt her chin quaver and yet she was not going to cry. She just clutched him tighter against her body and placed her forehead on his white and clammy one.

Why was she acting this way? Why did she care whether this Elf she had only just met no more than a day ago lived or died? She had never cared before about Elves and had actually feared them, now she was trying to keep one alive. It all seemed so confusing and so bizarre that she felt quite over whelmed by the whole idea.

She could not erase his pain filled face from her mind and when he had looked at her before his eyes rolled away and the lids closed, it had seemed as though he would look that way forever. She whispered, "I suppose I am being rather selfish. But Rothinzil you have to understand. I feel as though we aren't so unalike, even though there is a world of difference between us." She sighed and said, "I love you my dear Elf and I can't let you go." Those words were a shock, but she still only half believed them, if even that much.

But he was fading whether by her will or not and she bit her lower lip to keep a cry of pain and of emotional torment back. She had been going through pain all her life, emotional, physical and now that this was here, she did not know what to do and it frightened her. This pain was unlike others and she trembled all over.

She was selfish, decided the women brutally about herself. Oh yes, quite selfish. He was in horrible agony and why did she want him to stay alive? Because she didn't want to be alive without him by her side. She was afraid to be alone again. But he was in so much pain that it wasn't fair.

Her thoughts were brought back to the obstacle that they both faced as the mule reached its nose down from above and brushed it lovingly against her hair.

She looked up with her own face white in shock and her breath coming fast and in bursts that strongly resembled sobs. She drew a breath that was as shaky as a young fawn learning to stand and then she looked down at the Elf whose head was laid against her upper arm and whose face still was grimaced in intense suffering.

She then pressed her lips into a thin line and using all of the strength she could find (most of which came from an overwhelming determination) she lifted him up higher and half-rolled, half-hefted the passed out Elf up onto the very edge of the pit that was to be his tomb only moments ago.

Glorfindel halted his mare and his golden brows came together in the center of his forehead as he felt alarm rising in his awareness. Something evil was about, he could feel it in his bones and he could sense it in the air. He looked to Erestor and said, "do you not sense it? We are coming to some great evil or my senses fail me."

Erestor pulled Estel closer as he felt his grip slacken for a brief moment. He narrowed his eyes in thought and answered slowly and in a flat and quiet voice, "I am not sure, but my theory is that orcs are about." He looked at Aragorn's pale face and back up at Glorfindel with a frown, "what are we going to do about it? We can't very well turn back. The snow will have blocked the way home by now and worse, there is Elrond to think of."

Glorfindel glared and then snorted, "you are very negative my friend." He drew a deep breath and let it out seemingly as slow as he was able. "Make sure your sword is loose in its sheath. I will keep my bow ready and if worst comes to worst, you are to make a run for it with Estel and I will cover you from behind."

Glorfindel looked at Aragorn and thought of when the man had been smaller, no more than a child. He was still hardly more than a child and Glorfindel would be damned if was going to let anything more happen to this mortal that he held so dear to his heart.

Erestor nodded and said, "I can fight Lord Glorfindel and if it comes to it I won't run." His voice turned hard and he actually had the look of ice in his eyes. They glittered in a way that Glorfindel had never seen and he saw for once that there was more to Erestor than met the eye. The counselor shifted on the horse's back and spoke wisely, "but I see the sense in what you say and am willing to go along with it…for now."

Glorfindel sighed and spoke all at once, "we must go ahead and hasten to the valley then, for if not we only put off the evil and as we put one evil off another grows." He looked at Aragorn pointedly and Erestor nodded his head again briefly and then inclined it and stared at the horizon.

"Does not a town loom up over there?" he asked and pointed to the opposite side of the valley. He hurriedly placed his arm back around the human to keep him from falling.

Glorfindel inclined his head as well and looked at the counselor in bewilderment that Erestor could not understand and it made a smile pull at his lips as the Gondolin Elf asked, "you can see that far?"

"Can't you?" he asked in a laughing voice. He looked around and asked, "can not everyone that is Elven?"

"No," answered Glorfindel quickly and actually rather tartly, "I can't!" He continued in a low voice, "you have the eyes of the Eagles of Manwë, Erestor." He was totally taken aback by this and Erestor seemed to be in shock. He shifted uneasily and looked at the snow as Glorfindel went on in a eerily calm voice, "Erestor, you never knew that? Well remember it! They will come in handy!" He spurred his horse gently and rode ahead towards the misty valley.

The impression one generally came under as he just simply gazed at the valley was that it was dark and dangerous. But as the Elves rode inside of it, amongst the boulders and crevices, it did not seem so evil and yet even more so. It was layered in a misty that gave it a sickening beauty meant to ensnare those who did not know better.

But the stench had worsened and as they came to the near center of the valley, they became keenly aware of the cause of the foal odor.

Bodies littered the ground about their feet, half-covered in snow followed by ice and camouflaged by mist that was their burial shroud. Black blood was all about the ground mixing with sanguine blood that came from men.

There was a fierce battle that had taken place here and Glorfindel, warrior at heart, was certain that danger would not be too hard to find and that they had better not stay and look for it, for it would eventually come to them. He set his face as though in stone and rode on through without stopping once…until he saw that Erestor was no longer following behind him.

The counselor was yards to the rear and his face was white as he stared at the twisted face of an orc that seemed to be wickedly grinning up at him. The raven-haired Elf seemed frozen, and he mentally speaking was. He knew that his notion was foolish, but he feared that the orc would leap up and run him through the stomach with the sword. No, it was not a sword, it was a scimitar, a crooked orc scimitar with a bent top. It was deadly weapon all the same and Erestor was entranced by its evil malice that still radiated from the creature and his lethal implements of war.

Glorfindel set a hand gently on Erestor's shoulder as he rode back the other Elf.

Erestor jolted and looked behind himself with wide eyes and dropped jaw. "Lord Glorfindel! Damn it all, you should rally tell someone if you are about to come up behind them! I could have killed you!" he snapped quickly and with such an angry voice that Glorfindel actually smiled. Erestor brushed the golden-haired Elf's hand off abruptly and growled, "stop it!"

Glorfindel smirked and said, "you should really learn to keep up."

Erestor rolled his eyes and looked stonily ahead before speaking thickly, "have I told you exactly how annoying you are?"

Glorfindel gave a wry laugh and answered, "recently or do you mean ever in this lifetime?"

Erestor seethed back nearly under his breath, "you golden haired., sarcastic…little…..little…imp!" He all but screamed at the Gondolin lord, "in your lifetime!"

Glorfindel actually laughed and responded in a mock tone, "let me think….at least once everyday!" he finished with a grin that made Erestor frustrated.

An eerie silence fell in the valley. It was as though it was listening to all that was being said between the two conscious companions. Erestor did not like it and he said to Glorfindel in a harsh whisper, "this valley has ears, or I am a fool. Let us get out of it before some terrible evil befalls us." The raven-haired Elf then heeled his horse and she began to trot forward, but her ears twitched nervously and she snorted.

Glorfindel stayed back a ways and looked around uncertainly, as though the rocks had evil faces and were scowling at him. He then heard the black-haired counselor take up his from earlier, "'you really should learn to keep up!'"

Deciding he was not going to let Erestor boss him around, the Elf of the ancient city of Gondolin heeled his horse hard enough to cause it to canter and he quickly passed the irate counselor, who just revolved his dark eyes in animosity.

He watched the golden-haired menace checked his horse to a stop, yards ahead and look back with a smirk that looked all too satisfied, in Erestor's opinion. Looking down at Aragorn's pale and languid form, he asked softly, "young one, how do you manage to keep a head on your shoulders between he, your brothers and that insane Wood-Elf that is somehow the crowned prince?" Then he chuckled and said, "you are like Elrond, though I suspect he is insane, but sane enough all the same to keep that fact hidden." But he felt sadness creep over his heart when the ranger did not answer back or even smile faintly; he remained more or less…dead.

When they came to the edge of the town, they were too weary from worry and sorrow to care if they got shot on sight. But they had to get Estel somewhere that he would be cared for.

The horses were limping and it was more than obvious that their feet were in horrible shape.

As they walked later among the houses and in the slush polluted streets they could feel eyes on them and finally up ahead they saw some marshals approaching, or so they guessed the men were, for they carried staves and were grim.

One walked up and placed a hand on the horse of Erestor, stroking the creature's neck and he said, "we cannot permit you to go further." His eyes swept over Aragorn and he was taken aback. He knew this man, he looked at Glorfindel, but quickly saw that this was not the same golden-haired being and this other dark-haired Elf was most assuredly not the klutz he had met prior.

Erestor put on his extremely diplomatic front and he answered, "Can you please explain why, for we mean to harm to your city, but seek aid only. Strider is hurt and is in dire need of your aid. We believe he was shot by a poisonous dart and the cure we know not. Every hour wasted hastened him towards death." He narrowed his eyes and asked firmly, "now are you going to help us, or are you going to thwart us?"

Glorfindel put on a rather stern and commanding front that commanded respect from all who saw the tall and beautiful Elf with golden hair that glinted in the late afternoon light like spun gold on a loom. Sitting tall he looked at the human before him and said bluntly, "we do not have time for you to contemplate the universe, just make up your mind!" he finished with a sigh.

Erestor shot him a look of annoyance that stated as though the counselor had spoken it, 'you have just made matters worse! Will you please be quiet?' He turned his head back in the direction of the men before him, particularly the one with his hand on the horse and he asked, "well? What is the head marshal's verdict? For I presume that is who you are, for you show the qualities of one capable of leading."

The man smiled, "flattering words are wasted on me Master Elf. I am not easily swayed on way or the other. But how do I know you speak the truth? I suppose you do not look evil, though I will admit I still do not trust Elves. You can tell that to your friends when you see them."

Erestor stopped and as he looked back at Glorfindel with a puzzled look, his head tilted and he asked quietly as he turned back around to face the man at his front, "our friends?" He furrowed his brows and asked, "of whom do you speak?" Legolas and Rothinzil? More than likely.

The man smiled grimly and said do not tell me you have never met two Elves days ago, one dark of hair and one golden. Much resembling you two," he finished with a snort. He did not know much about the immortal, but he had to wonder if the two encountered earlier had been indeed younger. For these two spoke wiser and had a sense of great age and yet timelessness about them.

Erestor smiled and said, "yes. We have and now we seek for them. For we have known them long and wish to find them. We fear that they may be in trouble." He shifted on the horse's bare back as he felt the town's people's scornful eyes one he and Glorfindel. It was a surprisingly frightening feeling that made him horribly uncomfortable. That thought alone was disturbing enough to make him edgy. He said in a growl, "tell me now, will you help us or thwart us. My patience grows thin."

The man shook his head, "alright Elf. Calm down, calm down!" He eyed the immortals as though he expected them to leap off the horses and throttle him. He cleared his throat and answered, "I shall take you to the master of the town. He can do with you as he wishes. It is beyond me to have anymore dealings with the fair folk."

Erestor was about to ride forward and then he stopped and stared down at the human, "'more dealings'? How long ago was it ere you spoke with the other two Elves you speak of?" Glorfindel sat in quiet thought upon his horse. Things were not quite adding up and he did not know why, but they wee not and he could tell that even Erestor had figured that much out.

"Not more than three days ago," answered the constable as he waved his men off and proceeded to guide the Elves towards his master's house. "But it is rather a disturbing tale that I will say no more of. However Ryxen should be able to make it clear to you both."

Glorfindel rode his horse up so he was riding along side the human and he said sharply, "if you know anything that can help us and withhold it so that their lives are destroyed you may find yourself in great peril ere you travel alone in the forest ever." He was not going to let his lord's son die because of this man's personal whims that he did not want to tell the whole tale because it was uncomfortable. The man did not respond and Glorfindel placed a slender and strong hand upon the human's shoulder and said, "am I understood then?"

"Get off of me Elf or you will be the one who should watch his back in the woods!"

"A wise being does at all times. You never know who or what could be waiting to end your life." The Gondolin Elf looked so serious that it made the human take a step back as the golden-haired Elf removed his hand quickly and gripped his horse's mane with it.

Soon they were in Ryxen's home and their horses being lead to the stables. The older man eyed the Elves and then his eyes fell upon the ranger and Erestor watched the color drain from the man's face. All he said in a quick and harsh whisper was, "follow me quickly."

The immortal's did not need to be told twice and trailed at the magistrate's heels.

The man opened a door to a small room with an equally small fireplace that cold and dark at the moment. He motioned to the bed and words were not needed. Erestor laid the man down on the bed as gently as he may and the man did not respond at all. His face seemed even paler and yet he breathed normally now and his pulse was well. This was a strange poison indeed.

Erestor looked at Glorfindel, but the other was staring at the shuttered windows, sparing with them in a dark glare. The midnight-haired Elf said quietly in Elven, "it was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. You could not have stopped this. If you want you may sleep and I will watch him for you-"

The counselor was cut off sharply as the Balrog-Slayer snapped, "Erestor put your tongue behind your teeth before I hurt you! It is my fault! I was commanded to make him come home and did not! He sighed and said, "how can you suggest that I sleep?" He shook his head and said stiffly, "I am going to go and talk with some people if I can and try to figure everything out."

He began to walk out towards the narrow hallway and Erestor stopped him, "you can talk here! You aren't going to leave me here, are you?" he asked softly. After all, he was not sure that he could trust these men in the least. And though he hated to admit it, he needed someone to protect him.

Glorfindel stared hard at him for a moment before saying slowly, "that is the general idea." And he turned his back to Erestor as the counselor crossed his arms and said crossly;

"Very well Lord Glorfindel! Be that way! I hope they lynch you!" he snapped and then spun back around to see the man bending over Estel and he was a picture of sorrow and grave anxiety as he looked a the wound in the man's shoulder and took the young ranger's pulse. He slid his eyes over the bloodied shoulder and discovered the wound. It had to be the cause of the sickness. But the man's vision suddenly blurred and a pain formed behind his eyes. He placed his fingers on the bridge of his nose and rubbed. Then his vision cleared as well as the pain. Because of his filmy vision, he did not see the arrowhead still engulfed in the wound.

Erestor asked, "what is it? Is he going to die?" asked the Elf somewhat briskly as he came and stood by the man's side and took one of Aragorn's cold hands in his own. Elrond was going to kill them. And he could not blame the Lord of Rivendell if he did and slowly!

The older mortal shook his head and ran his finger's through his thinning hair before saying in an jaded voice, "the more accurate question would be, is he going to live?"

Erestor felt the color drain from his features and asked softly, "what do you mean? He has to live! If he doesn't…" the Elf could not finish. The outlook was too bleak and his heart too weary. He asked quickly and in a incredulous tone, "are you sure that you are fit to diagnose?" He stammered, "could you not be mistaken?"

"I could be, yes. But I am not," he answered grimly and sank into a chair at the foot of the bed. "Your friend is poisoned with the weed Gurththin. It is known to most as the sleeping death.Cattle eat it and perish if they are not shot first, for there is no cure really. You either are strong enough to make it, or you die in your sleep." Erestor sat onto the bed by Aragorn and looked at the young ranger's face as the magistrate spoke these horrible words. "

"He may remain asleep for another week or even another three!" the man wrapped up his conclusion and finished, "keep him warm and I will make sure that there is plenty of wood for the fire place. Blankets are in the closet right outside the door and they are warm and woolen, so be careful how many you layer him with!"

Erestor nodded dumbly and he placed his face in his hands as he sat bent with thought. The man came and placed a hand on the Elf's shoulder and said in a kindly voice, "if you wish to talk after you have everything to your satisfaction I will talk with you. For I perceive that there is much you want to know."

Erestor jerked his head up and said, "that really would be helpful. Where shall I meet you?" he asked quietly as then lowered his head again and placed his chin in his hands that rested on his knees. He had never felt so flustered in his life. Nothing was in order and he was tired of fighting for everything that had come so easily to hm in Rivendell.

The man answered, "in the library. It is down the hall further and the fourth door on the right." Erestor nodded and looked at his booted feet. Ryxen looked at the sorrowful Elf for only a moment before he turned and left, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

Once Erestor was sure the human was gone, he stood up and crossed the space between the bed and fireplace.

There was some dusty wood in the fireplace and he was sure he could get it to light eventually but he did not have to, for moments later he heard a knock and a little boy stood in the doorway. He grinned a toothy grin and said, "Master Elf I was told to bring you these hot coals so you could start yerself a fire."

Erestor smiled at the child and said, "thank you very much. I was beginning to wonder about that." He took the bucket that glowed with the hot embers and he also took possession of the iron tongs. The child smiled a wavering smile and then bowed clumsily and hurried away, leaving Erestor peering into the hall, wishing that Glorfindel would come back.

But that was fine! If Glorfindel wanted to go and get into trouble that was his affair. Erestor had a job to do and he would be damned if he would let Glorfindel's ill temper and needless guilt hinder him.

Going over to the fireplace, he placed the coals near the dust covered kindling that was still there and soon had a steady amount of smoke rising. A brief smile flashed across his face as a flame shot up and then other's followed, brightening the room and sending warmth into the air. The smell of the smoke was somewhat pleasant, he supposed and he went to look at Aragorn.

The man had near fearful expression on his face, lost in his darkest dreams. It pained the adviser to see his lord's son thus and he went out to grab the blankets from the closet quickly.

He felt strange as he walked out into the hall. Surprisingly without that blonde menace around he felt alone. He had no clue that he could trust and certainly no clue as to whether or not anyone had his back. The hall was eerily barren and the wooden floor creaked slightly.

Celebalda stopped short as he came near the palace. He found it disturbingly odd that he felt like eyes were glued to him and every move that he made was being watched with great stealth. Orcs never came this far and they hadn't had problems with Dark Elves in a good while. Or at least none really worth mentioning.

He scanned the trees briefly and then started forward, only to have an arrow fly past his ear and hit the tree nearest to his head with a twang and a jolt. He scowled and then said, "alright. Very cute! You just nearly killed me!" He looked at the arrow darkly, as though it might have just some how done this whole thing on it's own and then he rolled his eyes. "I am not in the mood today Thalionril! Damn it, show yourself!"

"My captain I hardly think that is befitting of one in such a high rank and in such high favor with his majesty to speak thus, especially with a friend. Wouldn't you agree?" came a teasing voice that Celebalda knew all too well. He looked up where the annoying voice was coming from and saw the slender Elf sitting in a tree directly above him and with a smirk that he felt would be far worth the effort it would take to wipe it off.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a thick whisper and he heard a chuckle in response. Rolling his eyes he said to himself, "oh Valar give me strength."

The younger Elf watched his superior's expression for a brief moment and then he chuckled again. "I was supposed to go and find you. I guess you found me. I am sorely disappointed."

"So am I," muttered the older Elf in a grumble. He then narrowed his eyes and raised his brows as he asked, "why are you?"

"It gets boring guarding a palace all day. I wanted a little adventure. Though since Legolas is not with you I will thoroughly enjoy the conversation with Thranduil that will follow this little escapade." He snorted and then steadied himself as he very nearly leaned back too far in his mirth. Celebalda's scowl remained unmoved and he proceeded to walk towards the palace gates, or at least the path that lead to them and Thalionril stopped his laughter and watched his captain walk away for some moment before he shouted out, "you could wait for me!"

"Captain!' snapped King Thranduil as he looked at the younger Elf that stood silently, looking at the floor tiling with a shamed or angered façade. At the moment he could not tell which and he was not going to try. His gray eyes locked on the Captain of all his guard and he said, "you had my permission to wait longer! Why did you not?" He stood before the other and Celebalda stared at his boots before speaking.

"I thought it necessary to inform you that I did not even see fires reflecting in the snow off in the distance. They aren't coming. I do believe that something is-" he was cut off as the king seethed.

"Wrong?" he finished. "No. Nothing is wrong. Nothing other than the fact that he deliberately ignored me as did with Captain Rothinzil!"

"My Lord," began to captain slowly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Captain Rothinzil would never do that. And Elrond would never let them stay in Rivendell against your wishes. I believe them to be in trouble again. I ask your permission to get a contingent and go in search of them."

Thranduil sighed and sank into his thrown that sat upon a large and richly decorated dais. He muttered under his breath, "Legolas what have you gotten yourself into now?" He then said louder, "Celebalda, you have always been the best of the best of our guards and have trained others well. But I do not ask this of you. It is most likely that Legolas and Rothinzil got held up and are in Rivendell."

He did not want to think of their frozen blue corpses in the snow for the beasts of the field to feast on. He would rather think that they are alive and coming home on their own. But gut instinct told him that he was entirely wrong.

"You did not ask, my Lord. I offered," answered Celebalda, bowing before his lord in deep reverence. His eyelashes went downward as his eyes focused on the floor. He drew a deep breath and looked up as dead silence fell upon the halls.

Thranduil smiled and looked at the younger Elf. "True enough my faithful Captain and friend. You have more than earned my thanks already. I give you leave to go, but take only those who are willing." His gray eyes watched as Celebalda rose and stammered,

"You will not be disappointed my King." The Elf then turned to leave his liege and he began to walk swiftly out of the corridor and into the courts beyond the magic doors.

Thranduil watched him go and then placed his head into his hands. Elves around the halls watched their sovereign with great disturbance in their eyes as they sensed his deep pain and apprehension. They observed for only a moment and then conveniently found reasons to leave the halls and their liege to the gather feeling of a heavy weight.

Thalionril placed a hand on his friend's shoulder as Celebalda brushed past. "My Captain," he addressed the other calmly, "When might we be leaving?" He wrinkled his brow and watched as the older being stopped and parted his lips as though to speak and then went quiet.

He drew a deep breath and answered almost in a trance, "as soon as possible." He walked further letting his friend's hand slid from its place on his shoulder. Thalionril felt a shock go through him as though Celebalda had just turned cold as ice and he felt chilled.

"Then why," asked Thalionril, now very intrigued by his superior's strange behavior, "why this coldness and unrest?"

Celebalda asked over his shoulder as he walked on, "unrest?" he asked almost to himself. "No. Cautious thought? Yes." He stopped and turned completely around and grinned at Thalionril as the younger Elf caught up and stayed his steps at the head captain's side. "You have known me long enough to know that I am never caught unprepared."

Thalionril looked at his friend quizzically and then said, "I think you are this time." He grinned back but it faded with Celebalda's and he narrowed his eyes, "everything will be well." He tried to assure his superior.

"The best laid plans can go astray…I have no plans to have lead astray." The elder Elf seemed deeply disturbed by this and he continued in a dim mutter, "I wager the Anduin will be uncrossable." He felt a bit worried as well. He had not traveled out of Mirkwood since…the accident. He knew the world had changed…he had changed…Greenwood the Great had changed. His son had gone away and he did not feel him close anymore. There was so much left to do in Middle Earth and it seemed to him that hardly anyone was left to fight the evil and turmoil. Maybe he should go away from here soon, away from Middle Earth.

Thalionril watched as Celebalda shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts and the younger being said, "time is about changing…nothing ever stays the same." He looked at some leaves that were tiled on the floor, dead leaves, fallen leaves. "Everything fades in time, trees exchange their leaves in seasons so do we."

"We are going beyond the Anduin, Thalionril. That is a long way."

"I figured we were crossing the river when you said it was going to be uncrossable. You never quit," he teased gently and smiled as Celebalda rolled his eyes in annoyance. The older Elf cuffed the younger one gently and asked;

"Now who do you think is crazy enough to come along with us into the wild?"

Thalionril smiled a knowing smile as he narrowed his eyes and mischief danced across his face as he answered, "I can think of several."

TBC………………… Review….PLEASE? Please? -give puppy eyes and quiver chin-

Oh yes! -does mad cackle- the plot thickens (but still without a truly evil cliffie -sniff-). Rothinzil is still alive but not out of the woods yet.

-pair of authors smile evilly- There you go Aragorn fans! See, we can do ranger angst and be cruel about it, but we have to admit we are suckers for Elf pain so that explains why Legolas gets in trouble first. Unless of course you are the kind who thinks the reason Aragorn gets into trouble later is not because we planned it that way, but because when Legolas gets into trouble it is Aragorn's duty as his best friend to follow. -authors snigger insanely-

We have a new account on now under the same pennames we use here after Aroda invited us into it. We may post some new stories in it that won't be on , we don't know. You can check if you like on our bio, because if we put new stories on this new site, then we will put the link on our Bio page. But we won't have anything on there until Christmas or after -sigh-School work is beginning to take a strong hold. LOL

Review Responses:) Thanks for giving us these! ((((((((( reviewers

Marie Delcore: Mellon nin…..-shake heads- you may actually want to read it first silly! But we still appreciate the review, since we talk to you everyday and you know most of what is going to happen. Why do we give things away? Not that we can't even make a cliffy for you. LOL

Snow Glory: No, our precious Rothinzil would never live that down. –turns to Elf flushing pink- The poor thing! Yes, he is left for dead, but even as he dies he has ladies that love him. Like his angels! We won't let him die….yet….! Hmmm….its sounds like fun….ur….horrible to do something like that. We can't tell you exactly what is befalling that arrow slinging prince at the moment. But it is not good. Thanks for the cute review!

Deana: Very poor Legolas indeed! Thanks for the review.

Nefhiriel: Yes, you wrote that. Hehehehehehehehehehehe. Ahhhhhhhhh…another one for Rothinzil. Yes, he is a big sweet heart and he only gets sweeter with time. Awww….thanks…hmmm…you are an author. We thinks we must look at what you have written! But before we do that and post…. We want to say good luck baby sitting (even though you are probably through with it by now LOL) and thanks for the review!

elitenschweinAgh, that's a severe understatement. It is looking horrible for the Elves. So you like Roth too? Awwww…..how sweet…maybe we should let him live! Yes, who would share Legolas' troubles but Roth? You have some excellent points, but well……you'll see. Yes, Glorfindel always underestimates poor Erestor. But don't worry. Erestor gets to show his bravery eventually…..And the horses are safe! Thanks for the review.

Snowy: Sorry, the mwahahahahaha, gave it away this time oh wise one. But that is the first time evil fly swatters have ever threatened my existence. Hmmmmm…..last I heard they were meant for flies and insects NOT authors! To say this was an eye-opening review would be an understatement. Thanks….I think. LOL No, really, I know where you live; you can just call me on the phone silly head.