Ok I'm back again! Believe it or not there is another chapter!
And here it is!!
Chapter Eight: Revelation
Thranduil entered his chambers with a heavy step.
Sitting on a low, green divan the Elvin king tried to think.
He did not remember much, and he didn't even know why he couldn't remember. He could remember being told that his wife and son were gone...captured by those horrid beings.
Searching....searching....and searching. A month gone by....being advised to give up....
They were found!.... Atarwen....the woman he had loved more then anyone in his life....she was dead.
The memories began to fuzz here....Galion's voice: "Will you go to him?".... Who?.... Galion's voice again; "Your son-"....didn't move, couldn't .... He had stayed by his wife's deathbed until he was all but driven mad by his own grief...it had consumed him.
Then....then....then....
//No! It couldn't be! He wouldn't let himself remember! But the forgotten past kept coming, to fast to stop it. Unstoppable like a waterfall, it refused to stop coming. //
The woodland lord went to his wife's drawing room....the moon's light spilled through the tall windows, casting agitated shadows on the furnishings and books, especially on the large hearth of a polished white marble....it felt like a burial ground, like walking through a place that which is haunted by troubled, wandering, lost sprits....there was a faint flicker, like a candle flame when it is been drown by the wax that's been melted around it, and about to go out forever....
//No!! No!! No!! No!! No!! No!! It's not true! It's not true! It's not true! It Is Not True!!//
....He moved a few, silent steps forward; saw a small form sitting in the cushioned chair that was Atarwen's favorite opposite the fireplace....He stepped forward again....the obscure form began faintly to materialize....It looked like it was made of little dots...The dots slowly, slowly started to have substance...the pale illumination made the light yellow hair seem even more flaxen; almost silver, like polished chrome....
.... The continued to come together....they formed a willowy physique settled deeply against the cushions of the chair.... the large feathery cushions almost swallowed the lithe frame, the legs were resting on the seat of the chair pulled together resting lengthways on the seat....right arm was stiff, the hand tucked under the legs holding them in place, left arm and hand was limp; resting on the lap....shoulders were latent squarely on the back cushion but turned just ever so slightly to accommodate the turn of the neck....the head turned, he could see the tip of the leaf shaped ear protruding out from the lose locks of pale gold....
....The face materialized from the haze of dark dots....one side partly hidden; turned the cheek resting on the chair's back...silvery blue eyes; calm, in the peace of sleep....
....Pain from the last days, choking the Elvin lord, all the pain of her death....her cry's....cry's for the small being in front of him...she refused calm....it had killed her....
//No! By the Valar NO! //
....The anger....sweeping the away the pain like floodwater....the anger....the thing in his hand....his fingers tightening around it.... his arm coming up.... the thing coming down....blue eyes, suddenly alert....
//NONONO//
....The small form in the chair moved....his target disoriented....but the sharp medal did sink into flesh....
//NO//
....Screaming....screaming from pain....the small elf tried to pull away....only making it worse....the blade moving down his arm....tried to pull away....the blade moved jaggedly from his upper arm to his wrist before finally coming out....blood spilled....fat scarlet beads falling to the floor....staining what ever they collapsed on deep crimson color....
//No! //
....Everything a blur of motion.... a maddening rotting his brain....a mad wanting not to give up his quarry.... saw pain and fear burn themselves into two sapphires with silver settings....
//no...//
....A pain moved into his own body....a sharp stab in his shoulder....falling....hearing two feet running.... glass- breaking....blackness....
Thranduil came back from the memories.
Breathing hard, like a person trapped underwater and had finally swam to the surface, it couldn't have been true!!
It couldn't have!! It couldn't have!!
His knees felt weak, his strength drained from him, but they supported him as he stood. Quick as summer lightning, he went to the heavy oaken doors of his chambers. Using what power that was left in his limbs; he wrapped both his hands around the door handle, knitting his fingers together. With one great effort, the doors cracked opened.
Going out into the hall outside his chambers, Thranduil went down the long hall, his footsteps falling and echoing in the empty passage like a ghost haunting a lonely way, till he turned into a forgotten corridor, soon faced a pair of doors.
He stopped in front of them....paralyzed. Feeling his breath hitch, Thranduil nearly turned back.
// "No! Don't you dare turn around you fool! You must go in! You have to find out!"// This mind screamed at him.
Thranduil pressed his hands flat against the wood of the doors, he pushed one opened one just a crack; its hinges groaning from long disuse. He slipped inside them with the feelings that one has when walking into a hungry dragon's lair.
The room was cold from a broken window, dust had settled everywhere like smoke on a carpet. Old leaves from years of autumns come and gone had blown in from the shattered window and strewn themselves on the floor like wounded things looking for a place to die. They skirted around the room in a breeze, their hardened tips marring the white coating of dust ever so slightly, leaving weird patterns. The hearths marble was now dull and dry as bones. Old ashes were now black and hardened like petrified wood.
The chair next to it had been skated back, with great force, and a long time ago....black smudges from where it had skinned the oiled wood floor's surface were covered with a fine dust. So were the red blotches near it....
Thranduil felt his legs turn to wood, he was not aware of actually walking over to the chair, but it came closer. His eyes swept over the floor....the red, small, round pools on the floor had dried to a near black, fine cracks ran over them, some having flaked a few specks reveling the stained wood underneath.
His legs finally gave out under him, and he fell to his knees. Forcing his eyes to look up at the chair, everything was now confirmed.
A cushion from its arm had fallen to floor; the body of it was stained with a fine red mist.
Laying near the chair....still sitting in it's dried puddle....dark maroon stains on its shiny medal....laid a small dagger.
Reeling from the shock and shame, Thranduil swayed to the side falling over, sitting on the cold floor, his face buried in his hands.
"Oh Elbreth, forgive me, what did I do him? What did I do to Legolas, my own son?"
There! All done!
Would start next chapter, but must get in shower. (I don't care if you can't smell me through cyber space; I'm washing my layer of filth off before I start the next one!)
See yaws!!
And here it is!!
Chapter Eight: Revelation
Thranduil entered his chambers with a heavy step.
Sitting on a low, green divan the Elvin king tried to think.
He did not remember much, and he didn't even know why he couldn't remember. He could remember being told that his wife and son were gone...captured by those horrid beings.
Searching....searching....and searching. A month gone by....being advised to give up....
They were found!.... Atarwen....the woman he had loved more then anyone in his life....she was dead.
The memories began to fuzz here....Galion's voice: "Will you go to him?".... Who?.... Galion's voice again; "Your son-"....didn't move, couldn't .... He had stayed by his wife's deathbed until he was all but driven mad by his own grief...it had consumed him.
Then....then....then....
//No! It couldn't be! He wouldn't let himself remember! But the forgotten past kept coming, to fast to stop it. Unstoppable like a waterfall, it refused to stop coming. //
The woodland lord went to his wife's drawing room....the moon's light spilled through the tall windows, casting agitated shadows on the furnishings and books, especially on the large hearth of a polished white marble....it felt like a burial ground, like walking through a place that which is haunted by troubled, wandering, lost sprits....there was a faint flicker, like a candle flame when it is been drown by the wax that's been melted around it, and about to go out forever....
//No!! No!! No!! No!! No!! No!! It's not true! It's not true! It's not true! It Is Not True!!//
....He moved a few, silent steps forward; saw a small form sitting in the cushioned chair that was Atarwen's favorite opposite the fireplace....He stepped forward again....the obscure form began faintly to materialize....It looked like it was made of little dots...The dots slowly, slowly started to have substance...the pale illumination made the light yellow hair seem even more flaxen; almost silver, like polished chrome....
.... The continued to come together....they formed a willowy physique settled deeply against the cushions of the chair.... the large feathery cushions almost swallowed the lithe frame, the legs were resting on the seat of the chair pulled together resting lengthways on the seat....right arm was stiff, the hand tucked under the legs holding them in place, left arm and hand was limp; resting on the lap....shoulders were latent squarely on the back cushion but turned just ever so slightly to accommodate the turn of the neck....the head turned, he could see the tip of the leaf shaped ear protruding out from the lose locks of pale gold....
....The face materialized from the haze of dark dots....one side partly hidden; turned the cheek resting on the chair's back...silvery blue eyes; calm, in the peace of sleep....
....Pain from the last days, choking the Elvin lord, all the pain of her death....her cry's....cry's for the small being in front of him...she refused calm....it had killed her....
//No! By the Valar NO! //
....The anger....sweeping the away the pain like floodwater....the anger....the thing in his hand....his fingers tightening around it.... his arm coming up.... the thing coming down....blue eyes, suddenly alert....
//NONONO//
....The small form in the chair moved....his target disoriented....but the sharp medal did sink into flesh....
//NO//
....Screaming....screaming from pain....the small elf tried to pull away....only making it worse....the blade moving down his arm....tried to pull away....the blade moved jaggedly from his upper arm to his wrist before finally coming out....blood spilled....fat scarlet beads falling to the floor....staining what ever they collapsed on deep crimson color....
//No! //
....Everything a blur of motion.... a maddening rotting his brain....a mad wanting not to give up his quarry.... saw pain and fear burn themselves into two sapphires with silver settings....
//no...//
....A pain moved into his own body....a sharp stab in his shoulder....falling....hearing two feet running.... glass- breaking....blackness....
Thranduil came back from the memories.
Breathing hard, like a person trapped underwater and had finally swam to the surface, it couldn't have been true!!
It couldn't have!! It couldn't have!!
His knees felt weak, his strength drained from him, but they supported him as he stood. Quick as summer lightning, he went to the heavy oaken doors of his chambers. Using what power that was left in his limbs; he wrapped both his hands around the door handle, knitting his fingers together. With one great effort, the doors cracked opened.
Going out into the hall outside his chambers, Thranduil went down the long hall, his footsteps falling and echoing in the empty passage like a ghost haunting a lonely way, till he turned into a forgotten corridor, soon faced a pair of doors.
He stopped in front of them....paralyzed. Feeling his breath hitch, Thranduil nearly turned back.
// "No! Don't you dare turn around you fool! You must go in! You have to find out!"// This mind screamed at him.
Thranduil pressed his hands flat against the wood of the doors, he pushed one opened one just a crack; its hinges groaning from long disuse. He slipped inside them with the feelings that one has when walking into a hungry dragon's lair.
The room was cold from a broken window, dust had settled everywhere like smoke on a carpet. Old leaves from years of autumns come and gone had blown in from the shattered window and strewn themselves on the floor like wounded things looking for a place to die. They skirted around the room in a breeze, their hardened tips marring the white coating of dust ever so slightly, leaving weird patterns. The hearths marble was now dull and dry as bones. Old ashes were now black and hardened like petrified wood.
The chair next to it had been skated back, with great force, and a long time ago....black smudges from where it had skinned the oiled wood floor's surface were covered with a fine dust. So were the red blotches near it....
Thranduil felt his legs turn to wood, he was not aware of actually walking over to the chair, but it came closer. His eyes swept over the floor....the red, small, round pools on the floor had dried to a near black, fine cracks ran over them, some having flaked a few specks reveling the stained wood underneath.
His legs finally gave out under him, and he fell to his knees. Forcing his eyes to look up at the chair, everything was now confirmed.
A cushion from its arm had fallen to floor; the body of it was stained with a fine red mist.
Laying near the chair....still sitting in it's dried puddle....dark maroon stains on its shiny medal....laid a small dagger.
Reeling from the shock and shame, Thranduil swayed to the side falling over, sitting on the cold floor, his face buried in his hands.
"Oh Elbreth, forgive me, what did I do him? What did I do to Legolas, my own son?"
There! All done!
Would start next chapter, but must get in shower. (I don't care if you can't smell me through cyber space; I'm washing my layer of filth off before I start the next one!)
See yaws!!