Chapter 4: Ter Oiomornie (Through Endless Dark)
With a few of his elvan fighters with him, Rogan ran the trees, his light feet not leaving any marks on the soft bark and with his bow at the ready. Word had spread quickly that a white horse was being pursued by two renegade orcs. To prevent needless slaughter or suffering, Rogan and his patrolling team had been summoned to catch the poor beast.
For an odd reason something kept nagging at the back of the elf's mind, only when he was close to discovering the source of torment and pulling in his mind it would vanish like smoke on a windy day.
"Hothron," one of the elves called out quietly, bringing Rogan out of his thoughts, "neled uuun hal near. Min a rokh. Tad most mavren yrch or edain."
"Mae govannen." Rogan slipped into his native tongue before continuing in human, a habit he'd picked up from Legolas. "Now we hope."
From far off a panicked whinny was heard and Rogan briefly closed his eyes, willing the animal their way. As if sensing his unspoken pleading, the white mare trotted into the elves keen view, but her body language and the tossing of her head clearly stated that something was amiss and another matter was also on her mind.
As one, the elves notched their arrows or drew white knives from their hips, awaiting the two 'other' creatures that dared to prowl their own realm in their filthy quest to clam it for their own.
Agonising seconds passed, but immortality taught one extreme imperturbability and an incredible endless supply of patience, these were traits that most warriors would betray for and Rogan made sure that his company knew that what they were born with was a true gift.
Harsh cries came to the ears of the elves and while some taunted their strings without any emotion showing at all, a few of the Firstborn held anger and disgust on their fair features at the thought of the foul beasts that were now in their land.
The two orcs also came into view and started stalking the now grazing horse. Her own eyes had caught sight of the elves in the trees above them and she had calmed down instantly, though her ears continued to flicker around in uncertainty. She then started to prance around in agitation as the orcs came ever closer.
"SIIN!!" cried Rogan, releasing his arrow. Two arrows quickly finished the first orc, and it's companion looked around confusedly for a few seconds, wondering where the sudden assault came from, before he, too, fell dead.
As two of the elves looked over the dead orcs to determine if they were the only party roaming or part of a scout, Rogan coaxed the mare to settle down and come towards him. Catching her, Rogan held her soft mane between his fingers and inspected the beautiful equine.
For the first time Rogan seemed to notice something odd about the white mare. She was clearly a tamed animal only she had no saddle upon her broad back but her head had the soft leathers of an elvan bridle and reins. Showing that this was clearly an elf-horse.
"But elves don't . . ." Rogan began to say to himself in puzzlement. Then something seemed to click, turning to one of his men, Rogan instructed the elf to see where the king's youngest son was.
With a puzzled expression, Dúloth disappeared into the foliage of the trees.
Moments passed before Dúloth reappeared again and didn't have a chance to speak what he had leant. Rogan knew, Legolas was in danger, again.
~*~
"I thought I was protecting him."
"Protecting him from what?" Thranduil thundered, slamming his fist on the table.
"From mortality. . ." Táralóm replied very quietly. "We meant to put our Lady's horse to sleep last night, but a foals birth prevented us from doing so. We were under way when Prince Legolas walked in."
"You mean to inform me that my wife's horse was to be destroyed?" the king said in a calm and very dangerous voice. "Without my knowledge or permission?"
"One of our informants said he'd been given permission, from you, sire." Dúloth replied, but still held his head high, while Táralóm looked downcast.
"Why then did you not discontinued when my son was there?" Thranduil asked, his blue eyes watching the two elves squirm under his gaze.
"We did, but he threw himself at Táralóm, begging him and I to leave Jewel be." Dúloth answered in earnest. "Rogan attempted to pull him off but Prince Legolas slapped his hand away and even threatened to bite him if we so much as *touched* her."
Despite the situation, Thranduil had to hide a nasty smirk at the cost of his men. His son had a very soft spot for any 'defenceless' animal that padded within the Mirkwood realms, and would fight and argue fiercely if anyone tried to injure or kill any of his 'pets' for sheer enjoyment or to put them out of their misery. His argument being that if they were meant to be dead, they would have died from their wounds or trauma earlier.
Sighing, Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment, pondering what to do and how to go about it. "When was he last seen? And where are my other children, he may have gone off with them."
"That's just it, sire," Dúloth replied, "we cannot find them either. It's like they've disappeared off the face of Mirkwood."
For some unknown reason, an icy chill went down the kings back. 'Oh Valar, help me.' He thought silently to himself. 'What have they gotten themselves into now?'
~*~
After assuring itself that Legolas wasn't a threat or that any other elves were about, the orc dropped the elfling on the ground where he landed in a heap of cloak and hair. Not able to stand, Legolas looked up at the orc with terror in his wide grey eyes, watching the creatures every move.
"You expect me to carry you?" accused the orc in a dangerous voice. "Get up!! Now!!"
All Legolas could do was watch in open mouth fright, not giving any hint of moving or making to get up.
"UP!" roared the orc in anger. He then kicked Legolas in the midriff in anger and frustration, collecting the elfling in the ribs and stomach. The kick left Legolas winded and dazed, after the coughing fit had passed Legolas wiped his mouth of the saliva that dribbled down his chin and discovered that a streak of bright red was within the clear liquid. Not receiving an answer the orc grabbed the elfling by his fractured hand and shook him. "I said get up, filth!"
"I . . . I . . . can't," Legolas finally sobbed out, completely confused at what this creature wanted or why he was so angry. "My . . . I . . . my knee hurts too much."
The orc swore harshly and pulled the young elf up, slinging him over it's shoulder and catching up with the rest of the group.
"You had better be worth this," the orc spat at the frightened 5 year- old. "Or I'll kill you myself."
~*~
"And then he raced off on Jewel!" Cassageln exclaimed as he finished telling his eldest brother, Lúrin of how Legolas had ran away.
Lúrin sat there, head bowed and hand over his face, as he was holding back from screaming in fury at his other siblings. It was exactly like a few weeks before, this time Rogan and his men had killed two orcs hunting Jewel just grabbing her in time, only to find that Legolas was no where close or within the palace grounds.
"You said he seemed to have jewel under control?" Lúrin finally inquired, looking at both his brother and sister. "Why, then, did you call out to him to get off her?"
Alassë glanced at Cassageln for a mere second before continuing. "Lúrin, Jewel was attacked carrying atara, she was traumatised by it. I didn't want Legolas to injure himself on her."
"If she was too shocked to carry a rider, she wouldn't have let any of us, even Legolas near her, let alone ride her." Lúrin replied with a voice above a whisper. "She would have struck him with her hooves and killed him instantly."
"But she almost did!" Cassageln debated heatedly. "He fell off of her and then tried to kick him!"
"Cassageln, where was Legolas at that time?" his brother asked calmly.
The younger male elf for the first time seemed to re-visualise the memory and realised his mistake. "He was behind and almost underneath her." Cassageln finally admitted quietly.
"So she wouldn't have seen him if it wasn't for your sister." Lúrin confirmed gently. He startled both of his siblings by slapping his thighs and rising. "If we are to find him, we must make hast. Now, what I am about to ask of you is going to be completely frowned upon by both father and most of the realm."
Both Cassageln and Alassë blinked confusedly at their older brother. "Why would it be frowned upon?" Alassë ventured hesitantly. "If it's a way to rescue Legolas, then let's do it!"
A faint smile lit their brothers face as he decided to let his plan go into action. "I'm going to use not our guards and own searches to find our brother, I'm going to use people who he trusts and knows very well."
"And who would you be speaking off?" Cassageln implored, his blue eyes slits and his blond head cocked to the side. "Father wouldn't be allowed to go out by himself, not when orcs have been killed so close to home."
His sister rolled her eyes and lightly tapped her brothers head. "He means us, you air-head elf!"
Shock replaced the previous look and Cassageln looked from his sister to Lúrin, wondering if he was insane or if he truly spoke the truth. "You." He finally stuttered pointing to Lúrin, himself then Alassë. "Me. And Alassë?"
"Think about it," Lúrin persuaded, "fathers guards will rush and not comb the area, this forest is dark and full of dark creatures that also hold their hidden lairs and tunnels. All of us, including others, know this forest like the designs upon our weapons."
"What does this have to do with finding Legolas?" Cassageln pointed out. "As far as we know, this could be some scheme for you to do a double and then rescue us!"
"Cassageln," Alassë whispered and took her brothers hand, "Legolas only trusts those he knows closely, he's distant even with acquaintances at the best of times, if he's . . . been taken," she shuddered at the thought, "he will only respond to those who care and he knows."
"But the three of us cannot take on a bunch of orcs!" Cassageln protested loudly, making both of his siblings hush him, in case they were overheard.
"This is what I will mostly be punished for," Lúrin began grimly, he sighed and hesitated for a few moments, "how good are some of your friends at archery, combat and fighting their conscious?"
"Oh Lúrin," Alassë whimpered sadly, "surely not this. What if they're injured or worse?"
"What do elves do when they are in their own element and in danger?" he asked, only answering her question in a riddle.
"Why we are up the trees faster than an enmy can find us." Confirmed Cassageln blinking and it clicked. "We actually won't be using the ground, we'll be up in the trees. Alassë, we'll be striking where they lest expect, from warriors they don't know exist!!"
"How many and who?" was all his sister said all suddenly bussiness-like.
"Gather as many of your friends as you can!" Lúrin cried hurriedly as he raced for his own room in the palace for his weapons. He twirled around and pointed at his siblings. "And make sure they can fight, I'm not being responsible for elflings that cannot protect themselves."
~*~
Not wanting to anger the orc further, Legolas bit his lip in an attempt to keep himself from crying. He now was hurting in places that he didn't realise could ache. His knee and hand throbbed in time with his heart, his stomach was barely holding it's contents and his head felt annoyingly light.
Still he kept quiet and hardly made any noise except for the odd whimper whenever the orc stepped down from a steep incline and even then he tried his hardest to muffle it.
They finally came to a tiny clearing, where there was a small cave and a few unidentified saplings growing around the permiter of the caves entrance, it smelt of blood and death and the little elf's deep panic only grew as the smells assaulted his sensitive nose.
Quite suddenly he was dropped and landed in a heap of whimpers and tears of pain. Not daring to move, or look up, Legolas layed there wondering what would happen.
"It was hiding in the clearing, it's injured but will speak." The orc prolaimed triumphetly. A sudden pounding of feet came closer and Legolas tried to curl himself into a tight ball, but an almost untolerable pain slamed itself into his knee, so he just half-curled and covered his head with his arms.
A hand roughly gripped his small arm and yanked it away from protecting his face. Closing his eyes tightly as he felt hot stinking breath on his face for a few seconds, Legolas kept himself from crying out loud. Finally his arm was dropped and he heard an argument break out.
"Scum," cried one of the orcs, "it is a useless elfling, no use to us, kill it!"
For an odd reason, courage seemed to make him resist the orcs orders and he rose into a sitting position behind the orcs. "Just let me go." He whispered quietly, but with obvious force behind the voice.
It was with some shock that Legolas found himself sprawled on his back on the ground, his forehead stinging in agony.
"We did not ask for your filthy opinion." The commanding orc spat in rage. Again scared senseless, Legolas could do nothing but back away from the orcs and into a tall tree that, upon sensing to touch of an elf, immediately began to sooth the deeply frightened soul.
All in all there was no escape, there were fourteen or maybe thirteen of the foul beasts and when injured an elf could not help but make as much sound as men going on a leisurely stroll through the forest. One of the huge orcs looked up and sniffed the now moist air about them.
"I smell a fierce storm," he locked eyes with Legolas's grey ones. "What about the filth, Uger?"
"Leave it," grunted Uger as he disappeared into the small cave. "It won't go anywhere. Besides, didn't anyone tell you?"
"If I were to know, I wouldn't be listening to your prattle." Snorted the other orc.
"Elflings are like humans, weak and prone to illness."
"But they are immortal,"
"Yes, but they still can die of the cold." And with that both of the orcs laughed roughly and disappeared from sight, leaving Legolas alone in the fading darkness.
Thunder rumbled and Legolas cowered, he was absolutely terrified of the sound as it was beyond loud for him, making his sensitive ears ring shrilly with the after effects. Looking around uncertiantly, the young elf wondered how long it would take for his family to realise that he was in actual danger. At the thought of his family, a sob escaped his lips.
"I want to go home," he whispered to no one, curling up against the tree for some comfort.
~*~
Few hours had passed since Lúrin had sent his brother and sister to find capable elves to help hind his youngest brother, and during those hours Lúrin had pened a plan to hopefully justify the use of young elflings without getting them injured or killed and to safely rescue Legolas.
A soft knock on his chamber door made the elf jump, turning around he saw that Cassageln was at the door way with five other elves, all around Cassageln's age.
Two of the elves were female, but Lúrin could tell that they both were under combat training as they had gold ribbons tied to their left arms, symbolising accurate and well disciplined pupils in their studies, most likely of both weaponary and healing.
The other three elves were Cassageln's own best friends, who went by the names of (in age of oldest to youngest) Draugdil, Rambamírë and Aglar. The two madiens were known as Neldëá and Gorë.
"These are the only ones who can wield a bow or knife with proper skill." His brother ventured showing his the elves in turn. "Neldëá is also the daughter of our healer, Taurereg, and she also has skill with Orc posion, just in case."
"Thank you, Cass," Lúrin nodded his approval. "Has our sister returned with her own finds?"
"I have now," came her song-like voice as she entered. She had done away with her usual flowly gowns and was clad in brown leggens and a blue silk shirt and a green suead jacket, she looked the every bit of a wold-elf warrior. "I have also brought my friends, and also Lúrin, I ran into some of them."
Her number now brought them up to twelve, counting themselves, and Lúrin was surprised that they were mostly males, while only one was female.
"Dagorma, you already know," Alassë went on, gesturing at the white- haired female elf, who nodded politely. "Her brother Yávëtal, you also know, along with the twins, Quendur and Gayadur." The twins smiled in return while Dagorma's brother barely acknowledged Lúrin.
"You all do realise what my brother, sister and I have asked of you is completly frowned upon and that it will most likely taint you until you sail from this land?" Lúrin asked the assembled elves. Most of them nodded, and didn't share glances with oneanother. Finally Gorë stepped forward.
"I believe that I speak for all here when I say that we don't care about how people will look upon us forever, for we know we are doing right in finding a lost child." She smiled gently. "Also I would miss the happy laughter he brings whenever he visits Afadel, my youngest sister. I know she would never forgive me if I were not to have some part in his rescue." All agreed and murmured their approval of the current situation.
With that, Lúrin gave the order for them to retreave their weapons and supplies for the journery ahead. ~*~
It was actually the sudden change in temperature that awoke the cat from it's slumber than anything else. Fully wake, Marilla began to wash herself starting at her left shoulder, carefully working her way down before coming back up.
Flickering her ears around for a moment of concentration, Marilla noticed that something was missing and couldn't put her paw on it. Sitting still for a moment or two, the intelligent cat finally figured out what was missing from her day-to-day life.
Legolas's voice or his presence.
Ever since he had become a kitten to her Marilla could tell where he was, what he was doing. The connection to each of them was that strong that both could almost tell what the other was thinking. Now there was nothing, no softly spoken voice or a pat as he walked passed his bedroom to the stables. This could only mean one thing.
Streaking out of the room at top speed on silent paws, Marilla went to find her kitten.
~*~
Rousing himself from a unrestful doze, Legolas looked up at the cave entrance of where the orcs were currntly residing. Shifting in pain, Legolas realised that he was actually becoming quite cold, which was a strange and almost new sensation to him.
'The weather must be changing,' he thought to himself and looked up at the black clouds in slight fear as he remembered that you weren't meant to be outside during a thunderstorm. Breathing for a few moments, the elfling could smell something else in the wind and temperature but was utterly confused at what the hidden message was.
Shifting again, Legolas held back a groan of pain as his limbs began to cramp up at being in one place too long. After attempting to escap a couple of times from the orcs, the creatures and finally grown half a brain and tied the elfling up aginst a tree.
The orcs had made him kneel as they had tied a rope around his wrists, making him sit in a kneeling position that was most uncomfortable for his slender legs and severely injured knee.
His wrists and shoulders were also starting to hurt, his right hand starting to lose the feeling in it. Legolas was no longer able to move it at all, as it sent waves of pain and general misery all through it. The warm water that was slipping from his forehead and down to his face, he had frighteningly discovered, was in actual fact blood. This was easily found out because it had started to clot and was clogging up his vision and dripped onto his lips.
Breathing was also becoming a laboured task, and coughing seemed to make it worst, the kick the orc had given him was where the most sever pain was coming from and Legolas had heard of tales of broken ribs puncturing lungs and the victim quickly suffercating in his own blood each time he drew breath.
Legolas was completely and utterly alone, and he was terrified.
****
Translations:
1) Hothron, neled uuun hal near. Min a rokh. Tad most mavren yrch or edain. = Captain, three creatures draw near, one a horse, two most likely orcs or men.
2) Mae govannen. = Well met.
3) SIIN! = NOW!
AN: Delay . . . aren't they bitches?
Chapter 5 is going to be a littler later than I intended. This is mostly because I've been in and out of hospital for the last three weeks and that my pet Rat, Marco is a little sick at the moment (but he'll be fine) and he requires my attention until he's more comfortable.
Ok, you people probably think that I've lost my marbles with saying that an elf can die from exposure. But hear me out.
My friend (JazzAJewel) and I have this theory that is flawed, but still it's a theory. And here it is.
When we are born we have our mothers immunity, but we need colostrum and vaccinations to built up our own over the years, at about 19 or 23 years of age. Now my friend Jazz's dad is a doctor and we asked him the question of how long it could take for an immortal to built up immunity to everything. Now he went by humans and said that with technology (which he said could stand for elf magic in our terms) humans can now expect to live to 107 or even 110. He said it would probably take us until 38 years of age to build up enough immunity to live until that age.
So he then spent many minutes calculating and came up with the age of 450.87 years. He said until that time the body of an elf, while immortal, could actually get sick. But he explained that illness isn't necessarily a thing like a cold, it's the bodies way of ridding itself of the foreign particles, that's why we get fevers, sneezes and other things like rashes.
So a very VERY flawed theory, but it's my excuse to use when and if I want to make an elf sick.
My cousin Adrian read this and asked why the elves switch from their tongue to English. The reason is simple, I used to live in Sydney about 3 years ago and was best friends with a Japanese boy named Ken, now whenever he was in trouble, frightened, thinking to himself or observing something he would slip into Japanese and I'd have to ask him what he just said. So this is a bit of a tribut to him with the language thing, because I once told him he reminded me of a Orental Elf. Which is now his nickname on his year 10 shirt.
With a few of his elvan fighters with him, Rogan ran the trees, his light feet not leaving any marks on the soft bark and with his bow at the ready. Word had spread quickly that a white horse was being pursued by two renegade orcs. To prevent needless slaughter or suffering, Rogan and his patrolling team had been summoned to catch the poor beast.
For an odd reason something kept nagging at the back of the elf's mind, only when he was close to discovering the source of torment and pulling in his mind it would vanish like smoke on a windy day.
"Hothron," one of the elves called out quietly, bringing Rogan out of his thoughts, "neled uuun hal near. Min a rokh. Tad most mavren yrch or edain."
"Mae govannen." Rogan slipped into his native tongue before continuing in human, a habit he'd picked up from Legolas. "Now we hope."
From far off a panicked whinny was heard and Rogan briefly closed his eyes, willing the animal their way. As if sensing his unspoken pleading, the white mare trotted into the elves keen view, but her body language and the tossing of her head clearly stated that something was amiss and another matter was also on her mind.
As one, the elves notched their arrows or drew white knives from their hips, awaiting the two 'other' creatures that dared to prowl their own realm in their filthy quest to clam it for their own.
Agonising seconds passed, but immortality taught one extreme imperturbability and an incredible endless supply of patience, these were traits that most warriors would betray for and Rogan made sure that his company knew that what they were born with was a true gift.
Harsh cries came to the ears of the elves and while some taunted their strings without any emotion showing at all, a few of the Firstborn held anger and disgust on their fair features at the thought of the foul beasts that were now in their land.
The two orcs also came into view and started stalking the now grazing horse. Her own eyes had caught sight of the elves in the trees above them and she had calmed down instantly, though her ears continued to flicker around in uncertainty. She then started to prance around in agitation as the orcs came ever closer.
"SIIN!!" cried Rogan, releasing his arrow. Two arrows quickly finished the first orc, and it's companion looked around confusedly for a few seconds, wondering where the sudden assault came from, before he, too, fell dead.
As two of the elves looked over the dead orcs to determine if they were the only party roaming or part of a scout, Rogan coaxed the mare to settle down and come towards him. Catching her, Rogan held her soft mane between his fingers and inspected the beautiful equine.
For the first time Rogan seemed to notice something odd about the white mare. She was clearly a tamed animal only she had no saddle upon her broad back but her head had the soft leathers of an elvan bridle and reins. Showing that this was clearly an elf-horse.
"But elves don't . . ." Rogan began to say to himself in puzzlement. Then something seemed to click, turning to one of his men, Rogan instructed the elf to see where the king's youngest son was.
With a puzzled expression, Dúloth disappeared into the foliage of the trees.
Moments passed before Dúloth reappeared again and didn't have a chance to speak what he had leant. Rogan knew, Legolas was in danger, again.
~*~
"I thought I was protecting him."
"Protecting him from what?" Thranduil thundered, slamming his fist on the table.
"From mortality. . ." Táralóm replied very quietly. "We meant to put our Lady's horse to sleep last night, but a foals birth prevented us from doing so. We were under way when Prince Legolas walked in."
"You mean to inform me that my wife's horse was to be destroyed?" the king said in a calm and very dangerous voice. "Without my knowledge or permission?"
"One of our informants said he'd been given permission, from you, sire." Dúloth replied, but still held his head high, while Táralóm looked downcast.
"Why then did you not discontinued when my son was there?" Thranduil asked, his blue eyes watching the two elves squirm under his gaze.
"We did, but he threw himself at Táralóm, begging him and I to leave Jewel be." Dúloth answered in earnest. "Rogan attempted to pull him off but Prince Legolas slapped his hand away and even threatened to bite him if we so much as *touched* her."
Despite the situation, Thranduil had to hide a nasty smirk at the cost of his men. His son had a very soft spot for any 'defenceless' animal that padded within the Mirkwood realms, and would fight and argue fiercely if anyone tried to injure or kill any of his 'pets' for sheer enjoyment or to put them out of their misery. His argument being that if they were meant to be dead, they would have died from their wounds or trauma earlier.
Sighing, Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment, pondering what to do and how to go about it. "When was he last seen? And where are my other children, he may have gone off with them."
"That's just it, sire," Dúloth replied, "we cannot find them either. It's like they've disappeared off the face of Mirkwood."
For some unknown reason, an icy chill went down the kings back. 'Oh Valar, help me.' He thought silently to himself. 'What have they gotten themselves into now?'
~*~
After assuring itself that Legolas wasn't a threat or that any other elves were about, the orc dropped the elfling on the ground where he landed in a heap of cloak and hair. Not able to stand, Legolas looked up at the orc with terror in his wide grey eyes, watching the creatures every move.
"You expect me to carry you?" accused the orc in a dangerous voice. "Get up!! Now!!"
All Legolas could do was watch in open mouth fright, not giving any hint of moving or making to get up.
"UP!" roared the orc in anger. He then kicked Legolas in the midriff in anger and frustration, collecting the elfling in the ribs and stomach. The kick left Legolas winded and dazed, after the coughing fit had passed Legolas wiped his mouth of the saliva that dribbled down his chin and discovered that a streak of bright red was within the clear liquid. Not receiving an answer the orc grabbed the elfling by his fractured hand and shook him. "I said get up, filth!"
"I . . . I . . . can't," Legolas finally sobbed out, completely confused at what this creature wanted or why he was so angry. "My . . . I . . . my knee hurts too much."
The orc swore harshly and pulled the young elf up, slinging him over it's shoulder and catching up with the rest of the group.
"You had better be worth this," the orc spat at the frightened 5 year- old. "Or I'll kill you myself."
~*~
"And then he raced off on Jewel!" Cassageln exclaimed as he finished telling his eldest brother, Lúrin of how Legolas had ran away.
Lúrin sat there, head bowed and hand over his face, as he was holding back from screaming in fury at his other siblings. It was exactly like a few weeks before, this time Rogan and his men had killed two orcs hunting Jewel just grabbing her in time, only to find that Legolas was no where close or within the palace grounds.
"You said he seemed to have jewel under control?" Lúrin finally inquired, looking at both his brother and sister. "Why, then, did you call out to him to get off her?"
Alassë glanced at Cassageln for a mere second before continuing. "Lúrin, Jewel was attacked carrying atara, she was traumatised by it. I didn't want Legolas to injure himself on her."
"If she was too shocked to carry a rider, she wouldn't have let any of us, even Legolas near her, let alone ride her." Lúrin replied with a voice above a whisper. "She would have struck him with her hooves and killed him instantly."
"But she almost did!" Cassageln debated heatedly. "He fell off of her and then tried to kick him!"
"Cassageln, where was Legolas at that time?" his brother asked calmly.
The younger male elf for the first time seemed to re-visualise the memory and realised his mistake. "He was behind and almost underneath her." Cassageln finally admitted quietly.
"So she wouldn't have seen him if it wasn't for your sister." Lúrin confirmed gently. He startled both of his siblings by slapping his thighs and rising. "If we are to find him, we must make hast. Now, what I am about to ask of you is going to be completely frowned upon by both father and most of the realm."
Both Cassageln and Alassë blinked confusedly at their older brother. "Why would it be frowned upon?" Alassë ventured hesitantly. "If it's a way to rescue Legolas, then let's do it!"
A faint smile lit their brothers face as he decided to let his plan go into action. "I'm going to use not our guards and own searches to find our brother, I'm going to use people who he trusts and knows very well."
"And who would you be speaking off?" Cassageln implored, his blue eyes slits and his blond head cocked to the side. "Father wouldn't be allowed to go out by himself, not when orcs have been killed so close to home."
His sister rolled her eyes and lightly tapped her brothers head. "He means us, you air-head elf!"
Shock replaced the previous look and Cassageln looked from his sister to Lúrin, wondering if he was insane or if he truly spoke the truth. "You." He finally stuttered pointing to Lúrin, himself then Alassë. "Me. And Alassë?"
"Think about it," Lúrin persuaded, "fathers guards will rush and not comb the area, this forest is dark and full of dark creatures that also hold their hidden lairs and tunnels. All of us, including others, know this forest like the designs upon our weapons."
"What does this have to do with finding Legolas?" Cassageln pointed out. "As far as we know, this could be some scheme for you to do a double and then rescue us!"
"Cassageln," Alassë whispered and took her brothers hand, "Legolas only trusts those he knows closely, he's distant even with acquaintances at the best of times, if he's . . . been taken," she shuddered at the thought, "he will only respond to those who care and he knows."
"But the three of us cannot take on a bunch of orcs!" Cassageln protested loudly, making both of his siblings hush him, in case they were overheard.
"This is what I will mostly be punished for," Lúrin began grimly, he sighed and hesitated for a few moments, "how good are some of your friends at archery, combat and fighting their conscious?"
"Oh Lúrin," Alassë whimpered sadly, "surely not this. What if they're injured or worse?"
"What do elves do when they are in their own element and in danger?" he asked, only answering her question in a riddle.
"Why we are up the trees faster than an enmy can find us." Confirmed Cassageln blinking and it clicked. "We actually won't be using the ground, we'll be up in the trees. Alassë, we'll be striking where they lest expect, from warriors they don't know exist!!"
"How many and who?" was all his sister said all suddenly bussiness-like.
"Gather as many of your friends as you can!" Lúrin cried hurriedly as he raced for his own room in the palace for his weapons. He twirled around and pointed at his siblings. "And make sure they can fight, I'm not being responsible for elflings that cannot protect themselves."
~*~
Not wanting to anger the orc further, Legolas bit his lip in an attempt to keep himself from crying. He now was hurting in places that he didn't realise could ache. His knee and hand throbbed in time with his heart, his stomach was barely holding it's contents and his head felt annoyingly light.
Still he kept quiet and hardly made any noise except for the odd whimper whenever the orc stepped down from a steep incline and even then he tried his hardest to muffle it.
They finally came to a tiny clearing, where there was a small cave and a few unidentified saplings growing around the permiter of the caves entrance, it smelt of blood and death and the little elf's deep panic only grew as the smells assaulted his sensitive nose.
Quite suddenly he was dropped and landed in a heap of whimpers and tears of pain. Not daring to move, or look up, Legolas layed there wondering what would happen.
"It was hiding in the clearing, it's injured but will speak." The orc prolaimed triumphetly. A sudden pounding of feet came closer and Legolas tried to curl himself into a tight ball, but an almost untolerable pain slamed itself into his knee, so he just half-curled and covered his head with his arms.
A hand roughly gripped his small arm and yanked it away from protecting his face. Closing his eyes tightly as he felt hot stinking breath on his face for a few seconds, Legolas kept himself from crying out loud. Finally his arm was dropped and he heard an argument break out.
"Scum," cried one of the orcs, "it is a useless elfling, no use to us, kill it!"
For an odd reason, courage seemed to make him resist the orcs orders and he rose into a sitting position behind the orcs. "Just let me go." He whispered quietly, but with obvious force behind the voice.
It was with some shock that Legolas found himself sprawled on his back on the ground, his forehead stinging in agony.
"We did not ask for your filthy opinion." The commanding orc spat in rage. Again scared senseless, Legolas could do nothing but back away from the orcs and into a tall tree that, upon sensing to touch of an elf, immediately began to sooth the deeply frightened soul.
All in all there was no escape, there were fourteen or maybe thirteen of the foul beasts and when injured an elf could not help but make as much sound as men going on a leisurely stroll through the forest. One of the huge orcs looked up and sniffed the now moist air about them.
"I smell a fierce storm," he locked eyes with Legolas's grey ones. "What about the filth, Uger?"
"Leave it," grunted Uger as he disappeared into the small cave. "It won't go anywhere. Besides, didn't anyone tell you?"
"If I were to know, I wouldn't be listening to your prattle." Snorted the other orc.
"Elflings are like humans, weak and prone to illness."
"But they are immortal,"
"Yes, but they still can die of the cold." And with that both of the orcs laughed roughly and disappeared from sight, leaving Legolas alone in the fading darkness.
Thunder rumbled and Legolas cowered, he was absolutely terrified of the sound as it was beyond loud for him, making his sensitive ears ring shrilly with the after effects. Looking around uncertiantly, the young elf wondered how long it would take for his family to realise that he was in actual danger. At the thought of his family, a sob escaped his lips.
"I want to go home," he whispered to no one, curling up against the tree for some comfort.
~*~
Few hours had passed since Lúrin had sent his brother and sister to find capable elves to help hind his youngest brother, and during those hours Lúrin had pened a plan to hopefully justify the use of young elflings without getting them injured or killed and to safely rescue Legolas.
A soft knock on his chamber door made the elf jump, turning around he saw that Cassageln was at the door way with five other elves, all around Cassageln's age.
Two of the elves were female, but Lúrin could tell that they both were under combat training as they had gold ribbons tied to their left arms, symbolising accurate and well disciplined pupils in their studies, most likely of both weaponary and healing.
The other three elves were Cassageln's own best friends, who went by the names of (in age of oldest to youngest) Draugdil, Rambamírë and Aglar. The two madiens were known as Neldëá and Gorë.
"These are the only ones who can wield a bow or knife with proper skill." His brother ventured showing his the elves in turn. "Neldëá is also the daughter of our healer, Taurereg, and she also has skill with Orc posion, just in case."
"Thank you, Cass," Lúrin nodded his approval. "Has our sister returned with her own finds?"
"I have now," came her song-like voice as she entered. She had done away with her usual flowly gowns and was clad in brown leggens and a blue silk shirt and a green suead jacket, she looked the every bit of a wold-elf warrior. "I have also brought my friends, and also Lúrin, I ran into some of them."
Her number now brought them up to twelve, counting themselves, and Lúrin was surprised that they were mostly males, while only one was female.
"Dagorma, you already know," Alassë went on, gesturing at the white- haired female elf, who nodded politely. "Her brother Yávëtal, you also know, along with the twins, Quendur and Gayadur." The twins smiled in return while Dagorma's brother barely acknowledged Lúrin.
"You all do realise what my brother, sister and I have asked of you is completly frowned upon and that it will most likely taint you until you sail from this land?" Lúrin asked the assembled elves. Most of them nodded, and didn't share glances with oneanother. Finally Gorë stepped forward.
"I believe that I speak for all here when I say that we don't care about how people will look upon us forever, for we know we are doing right in finding a lost child." She smiled gently. "Also I would miss the happy laughter he brings whenever he visits Afadel, my youngest sister. I know she would never forgive me if I were not to have some part in his rescue." All agreed and murmured their approval of the current situation.
With that, Lúrin gave the order for them to retreave their weapons and supplies for the journery ahead. ~*~
It was actually the sudden change in temperature that awoke the cat from it's slumber than anything else. Fully wake, Marilla began to wash herself starting at her left shoulder, carefully working her way down before coming back up.
Flickering her ears around for a moment of concentration, Marilla noticed that something was missing and couldn't put her paw on it. Sitting still for a moment or two, the intelligent cat finally figured out what was missing from her day-to-day life.
Legolas's voice or his presence.
Ever since he had become a kitten to her Marilla could tell where he was, what he was doing. The connection to each of them was that strong that both could almost tell what the other was thinking. Now there was nothing, no softly spoken voice or a pat as he walked passed his bedroom to the stables. This could only mean one thing.
Streaking out of the room at top speed on silent paws, Marilla went to find her kitten.
~*~
Rousing himself from a unrestful doze, Legolas looked up at the cave entrance of where the orcs were currntly residing. Shifting in pain, Legolas realised that he was actually becoming quite cold, which was a strange and almost new sensation to him.
'The weather must be changing,' he thought to himself and looked up at the black clouds in slight fear as he remembered that you weren't meant to be outside during a thunderstorm. Breathing for a few moments, the elfling could smell something else in the wind and temperature but was utterly confused at what the hidden message was.
Shifting again, Legolas held back a groan of pain as his limbs began to cramp up at being in one place too long. After attempting to escap a couple of times from the orcs, the creatures and finally grown half a brain and tied the elfling up aginst a tree.
The orcs had made him kneel as they had tied a rope around his wrists, making him sit in a kneeling position that was most uncomfortable for his slender legs and severely injured knee.
His wrists and shoulders were also starting to hurt, his right hand starting to lose the feeling in it. Legolas was no longer able to move it at all, as it sent waves of pain and general misery all through it. The warm water that was slipping from his forehead and down to his face, he had frighteningly discovered, was in actual fact blood. This was easily found out because it had started to clot and was clogging up his vision and dripped onto his lips.
Breathing was also becoming a laboured task, and coughing seemed to make it worst, the kick the orc had given him was where the most sever pain was coming from and Legolas had heard of tales of broken ribs puncturing lungs and the victim quickly suffercating in his own blood each time he drew breath.
Legolas was completely and utterly alone, and he was terrified.
****
Translations:
1) Hothron, neled uuun hal near. Min a rokh. Tad most mavren yrch or edain. = Captain, three creatures draw near, one a horse, two most likely orcs or men.
2) Mae govannen. = Well met.
3) SIIN! = NOW!
AN: Delay . . . aren't they bitches?
Chapter 5 is going to be a littler later than I intended. This is mostly because I've been in and out of hospital for the last three weeks and that my pet Rat, Marco is a little sick at the moment (but he'll be fine) and he requires my attention until he's more comfortable.
Ok, you people probably think that I've lost my marbles with saying that an elf can die from exposure. But hear me out.
My friend (JazzAJewel) and I have this theory that is flawed, but still it's a theory. And here it is.
When we are born we have our mothers immunity, but we need colostrum and vaccinations to built up our own over the years, at about 19 or 23 years of age. Now my friend Jazz's dad is a doctor and we asked him the question of how long it could take for an immortal to built up immunity to everything. Now he went by humans and said that with technology (which he said could stand for elf magic in our terms) humans can now expect to live to 107 or even 110. He said it would probably take us until 38 years of age to build up enough immunity to live until that age.
So he then spent many minutes calculating and came up with the age of 450.87 years. He said until that time the body of an elf, while immortal, could actually get sick. But he explained that illness isn't necessarily a thing like a cold, it's the bodies way of ridding itself of the foreign particles, that's why we get fevers, sneezes and other things like rashes.
So a very VERY flawed theory, but it's my excuse to use when and if I want to make an elf sick.
My cousin Adrian read this and asked why the elves switch from their tongue to English. The reason is simple, I used to live in Sydney about 3 years ago and was best friends with a Japanese boy named Ken, now whenever he was in trouble, frightened, thinking to himself or observing something he would slip into Japanese and I'd have to ask him what he just said. So this is a bit of a tribut to him with the language thing, because I once told him he reminded me of a Orental Elf. Which is now his nickname on his year 10 shirt.