See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.
Encroaching Darkness Part 13
By Ecri
Celeborn watched the setting sun from his perch atop his steed. Gandalf's departure, aided by the speed of some spell, had left the rest of their party desperate to reach his side and offer aid.
The day had faded more quickly than he had thought it would. His wife had not had any further visions, but both had felt the sense of forebodingof evilgrow. Now with the darkness of night compounding with the more insidious Darkness they had been trailing, Celeborn felt they should press on without stopping. They were elves, after all, and had no need to stop for the evening if some further need claimed them. The horses could be fed and watered. The warriors themselves could do without or eat and drink while mounted.
He glanced at Galadriel and she, sensing the look, graced him with a smile that answered his unasked question. She was well. He returned the smile. "We should" He began.
"not stop." She finished.
He nodded as she signaled to Haldir that they would continue on, but just as the March Warden reached his Lady's side, they each noticed a campfire burning somewhere ahead of them. Haldir glanced at the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood waiting silently for instruction.
Celeborn nodded absently. He was not blessed with foresight, but he could sense his grandsons nearby. "Elladan and Elrohir" Externally, the ancient elf seemed as calm, as stoic as always. Internally, his heart leapt, not only in joy and surprise that Elrond's sons were nearby, but also in fear that the Shadow they had followed might be a threat to them.
He knew his wife shared both his delight and his fear, so he was not surprised that when he urged his horse into a quick trot, his wife kept pace with him.
Celeborn's eyes sought his grandsons as soon as they neared the camp. It took the elf lord only a moment to find the twins. Elladan was kneeling by Glorfindel offering some soup or stew, and Elrohir stood close to an elf Celeborn could not immediately place. A moment later he recognized the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, and wondered what task would have put one of Thranduil's sons on the same road as Elrond's.
Leaping from his horse, Celeborn called greetings to his grandsons even as he offered a hand up to his wife to help her down, though, truthfully, she did not need any such assistance. "Mae govannen!" Celeborn was surprised to see relief on their faces as if they had all expected to see the group from Lothlorien ride into their midst.
Elladan whispered something to Glorfindel, who took the bowl of food from the son of his friend. Rising,, Elrond's eldest moved quickly to his grandparents. "Mae govannen! We could not be happier to see you!" His confession came quickly, and Celeborn saw again relief and love in his eyes.
"What has happened?"
Elladan quietly told them all that he could though he was unable to explain the odd affliction they had suffered. Explaining Gandalf's quick departure on Elrond's trail, Elladan gestured in the direction the Grey Pilgrim had gone. "Mithrandir said to let you know there may be need of your skills." He shook his head slightly and Celeborn saw a hint of fear in his grandson's eyes. "I can only guess what would cause him to say such a thing."
Celeborn's eyes widened at this last news. So, he thought, the Shadow we chase is near. He nodded once, and mounted his horse again. "We will go at once." He did not need to look at Galadriel to know that she, too, had already mounted.
Haldir, perhaps for once more farseeing than either his Lord or Lady, had not dismounted. Calling to those in his charge, he divided up tasks, taking half with him and ordering the rest to set up a perimeter around Elladan's and Elrohir's campsite. Once all orders were issued, he turned expectant eyes to Celeborn and Galadriel.
With a nod, Celeborn was about to lead them on the path Gandalf had taken, when a hand on his wrist stayed him. Looking down, he saw Elrohir gazing up at him.
"We will go with you." He gestured to his brother as he spoke.
Celeborn smiled. "Nay, Elrohir. If any of what we have sensed in the days behind us holds your father or the others, we will have need of hale and healthy healers. Gather what herbs and medicines you may while we are gone. We may have need of your skills as well."
Elladan spoke before his twin could reply. "We have spent the past few hours doing just that. We are prepared to ride, for if there are injuries, would it not be better if we can offer treatment immediately rather than wait here?"
Celeborn frowned. His grandsons had rarely argued with him. He made the slightest of gestures, which seemed to encompass the entire campsite. "What of the others? Surely, you do not wish to leave them alone." He turned to look at Glordindel and Aglarelen, both of whom he expected to see sitting by the fire. Instead, each was checking his weapons and preparing to ride.
Celeborn traded a glance with Galadriel, and though neither appeared to speak, communication of some kind obviously took place.
The small party moved with haste in the direction their daughter's husband had taken with Haldir close behind. Just before he disappeared from sight, Celeborn looked back at the twins who had slipped their own horses in formation behind their grandparents.
**
Gandalf's scowl seemed a permanent part of his features as he traced Elrond's trail through the twists and turns of the dark caverns. He had come upon the cave just as night fell, and, tethering his horse nearby, he had immediately set out after the Lord of Imladris. The trail was not hard to follow for Gandalf could sense what paths Elrond had taken.
As he moved, he sought some sense of the evil that had brought him here, for here, he knew, was where it dwelt. It grew stronger, as he had suspected it would, the further he went. Hearing a warrior's cry in elvish, he quickened his pace, his scowl deepening.
After more than a few moments, he stopped dead in his tracks sensing something. "Oh, no." His whisper was so soft it produced no answering echo, and, though he stood still as stone for a moment, hoping that his own senses would be wrong, he knew they were not. Elrond was nearby, and he had unleashed the power of the mightiest of the Three Rings of Power. "What can he be thinking!" Gandalf could imagine few things that could have made the Elf Lord do such a thing, and each was more horrifying than the last. Breaking into a run, the Wizard begged Eru to bring him to Elrond's side quickly.
**
Aragorn took an involuntary step backward as the Blue Wizard stepped menacingly closer. He couldn't keep his eyes from dancing over to Legolas' form looking desperately for some sign of his friend's condition. At first, there was no movement at all, but soon Legolas hand, still clutching his knife, lashed out at the evil creature who held him.
Aragorn watched as the Wizard bellowed his displeasure and turned to look at Legolas as if he'd forgotten he held the prince in his hand. The Ranger looked around him desperately seeking something he could use as a weapon and berating himself for having thrown his knife at the wizard. Unable to find anything else, Aragorn grasped a large rock and taking as careful an aim as he could, heaved it with all of his strength at the Wizard's head.
As he released the rock, he saw the Wizard raising the knife Aragorn had thrown at him. He was poised as though to slit Legolas' throat when the rock struck him on the right temple. Blood began to flow immediately and the Maia stumbled back in surprise. Enraged, the blue-robed figure hurled Legolas away from him and turned on Aragorn.
The Ranger easily read the Wizard's deadly intent. Aragorn retrieved another stone and was about to throw it when he felt a strange sensation. The sensation grew and even as the Wizard drew nearer to him, and, presumably, Aragorn drew nearer to death, he could no longer ignore it. Before either the Ranger or the Wizard could strike, the air in the cavern seemed to pulse with power. As impossible as it seemed, a wind whipped around the pair pulling at their clothes and forcing their eyes closed against the flying dust and dirt.
Aragorn dropped the stone he held and put an arm up to shield his eyes as he looked away from his enemy. His eyes were drawn of their own accord to the crumpled form of his friend who still lay where he'd been carelessly tossed. Aragorn felt a growing lump in his throat as he realized there was little he could do to help his friend. Whatever was about to befall them, he could never get past the Wizard in time to do anything for Legolas. Even if he could, what could he do?
As he considered this, he realized the Wizard was not behind this latest onslaught. The more fiercely the very air around them tried to tear them to pieces, the more puzzled the Wizard appeared. He was glancing around frantically now as if trying to determine who or what was causing this.
Distracted as the Wizard was, Aragorn realized he had a chance, albeit a slim one. He took one last look at Legolas to fix his position in his mind, then, shielding his eyes with both arms, he dashed by his foe trying to reach the Prince. If he could do naught else for Legolas, he would be by his friend's side when the end came.
**
King Thranduil felt the passing of each moment as he never had in all his long years. The absence of both his eldest and youngest sons was quickly becoming a burden too heavy to bear especially as he knew naught of his Greenleaf's condition. His mind recognized that the march of days had not been long enough that the Rivendell company could have yet reached Lothlorien, but his youngest son's dire predicament could well be altered long before they reached the Golden Wood.
Legolas was mortal. The thought seemed more than he could wrap his tired brain around. Legolas could well die even as he sought a cure. Thranduil would have worried about his son's well being without his having lost his–elvishness–but his worry now bordered on fear so deep it was almost paralytic. Injury that Legolas might have once found minor could now prove fatal.
His dreams of late had been riddled with thoughts of Legolas dying. Visions of Aglarelen returning to him bearing the lifeless body of his youngest, dearest brother kept him from seeking the much needed rest of elven sleep.
His last such dream had been worse by far. In it, Aglarelen, bloodied and bruised, had returned to him empty handed, explaining to his father that Legolas had died such a horrendous death that there had been naught left to return to his father. Then, as his eldest son tearfully told him the details of such a death, he succumbed to grief and faded before the King's very eyes, and Thranduil was left with a heart not only broken, but also shattered.
Shaking off such memories was hard even upon awakening, and Thranduil found himself walking through his days with only half his mind. The other half by turns hid from the shadow of his own thoughts or probed that shadow deeply, as if forcing the dream-hurt upon himself might make it easier to bear should it come to pass.
His advisors and ministers, even the captains of his guards and patrols, would cast surreptitious glances towards him when they assumed he was not looking. He had caught many of them and could not help but wonder what had managed to escape his attention.
Whatever they might think, he handled his duties with the usual aplomb. Settling disputes, ordering troops to protect areas that seemed to attract more orcs than ever before, hearing report after report on orc and spider movementthese things had become his world. He passed each day well submerged in the day-to-day decisions of keeping his people safe. His mind was on business. His heart was with his sons. If he could have helped it, he would not have been the elf he was, nor would his sons be what he had reared them to be.
His speculations on his sons' whereabouts and well being would run rampant. His prayers to Iluvatar for their safe return–hale, whole, and elven–would occupy some portion of his mind and heart at all times. He would forget neither his duty to his people, nor his obligation to his offspring.
His head pounded suddenly, and he gasped placing a hand to his temple. Closing his eyes briefly against the light that now blinded him, he heard his son's voice. His sweet Greenleaf was calling out to him! He half rose from his throne but sank back when his knees would not support his weight. "Legolas!" He called to his son in his mind, not realizing he had whispered the name aloud.
Ada! He heard not only the word, but also the desperation, the pain behind it, then, nothing. Not another sound. No intake of breath. No agonized scream. Nothing. What it could mean, he could not guess, but he canceled his afternoon appointments with the intention of returning to his rooms. At the last moment, he changed his mind. When his advisors looked for him later, he was asleep upon Legolas' bed.
**
Elrond continued to whisper the words of the spell calling Vilya to command the air within the cavern to twist, writhe, and chase itself like a dog chasing its own tail. As Elrond's rage at seeing what the Blue Wizard had done–and intended to do–to his son grew, the Elf Lord's reason abandoned him. He had seen his son's condition, and he had seen the Blue Wizard holding the limp form of the youngest Prince of Mirkwood in one hand.
He watched as the Wizard tossed Legolas away as if he were no more than a useless rag. He saw the Wizard turn towards Aragorn after Aragorn's rock struck. Raising his own sword, Elrond approached the Blue-robed figure from behind, and with a great cry in elvish, in answer to the one Legolas had uttered earlier, he lunged at the creature with murderous intent.
His blade struck true, and Elrond had the satisfaction of hearing his enemy cry out in surprise and pain. His foe turned to face him then, and Elrond gave no ground. He struck again and again until the Blue Wizard held up a hand sending Elrond stumbling backwards. Whether because he was prepared for the move or because of the strength of Vilya, concealed and out of the Wizard's sight, Elrond barely took a step back.
The Wizard's puzzled expression brought a small smirk to the Elf Lord's lips–one his twin sons and his companion, Glorfindel, often insisted he had never worn in the years before he had known Aragorn.
He spared a glance beyond the Wizard's shoulder and was relieved to find Aragorn alive and alert tending to a still dazed though no longer unconscious Legolas. Then there was no more time for looking.
The Wizard drew his own sword, and a mighty one it was. Forged in the ancient days of the Last Alliance, the elven blade was as strong, though perhaps not of as great a lineage as Elrond's own weapon. The clash of metal upon metal echoed through the cavern carried by the ends of the windstorm Elrond had conjured, which the Elf Lord had allowed to dissipate though it had not entirely ceased.
As they fought Elrond maneuvered himself around the Wizard until he stood between the blue menace and the two young ones whose trail had led him here. His blade met the other stroke for stroke, and it seemed neither would falter, but then, neither was it possible that both would continue indefinitely.
Elrond continued to batter at the Wizard's defenses, and was on the verge of doing something more drastic with Vilya's help, when he heard something behind him.
The stentorian tones of The Grey Pilgrim filled the cavern as Gandalf stepped forward. Raising both arms–one hand clutching his staff and the other clutching Glamdring–above his head, Gandalf challenged the Blue Wizard, though Elrond did not withdraw from the battle.
The Elf Lord watched with grim satisfaction as a look of surprise spread across the Blue Wizard's face, and, Elrond was certain, there was a hint of fear in those wide eyes.
Taking advantage of the situation, the Lord of Imladris raised his sword and threw himself into the attack.
**
Gandalf, having sensed the Wizard's presence, was not at all surprised to see Alatar, the First of the Blue Wizards. Where Pallando was, he could not guess, but he could not sense him nearby. Keeping alert in case the Second of the Ithryn Luin were to appear, Gandalf put as much of himself into his voice as he could, spilling more magic into that cavern than he had used in an age.
Alatar was surprised to see him. That much was evident.
It was Elrond's use of Vilya, which Gandalf had sensed before he'd found the Elf Lord that most troubled him. Revealing it now could well be dangerous. The repercussions if such information became common knowledge could not be calculated.
Gandalf knew Elrond, with the help of Vilya, could easily defeat Alatar, but he was glad to see that Elrond resisted what must be an overwhelming desire. Protective of Estel to the last, Elrond had also developed a great affection–and consequent protectiveness–towards the youngest of Thranduil's sons. Gandalf knew it would be nothing less than fear for their lives that would have prompted Elrond to unleash even this smallest fraction of Vilya's power.
Gandalf raised his arms above his head and bellowed his spell across the space that separated him from Alatar. He knew that, if Alatar now served the Shadow, then so did Pallando. One was never without the other.
Alatar, however, had been fighting for quite some time. Gandalf had sensed that original spell that had sent him on his mad dash to this place days ago, he was sure. The expenditure of energy and power had to have been great. He could not have much more upon which to draw.
Sure enough, when Gandalf's spell drew Alatar's attention, the Blue Wizard faltered. Taking a step back, he seemed to be gathering his strength. Stepping back then towards Gandalf, though never turning his back on the danger Elrond presented, Alatar raised his own hand in preparation of casting some counter spell of his own. Gandalf did not give him the chance.
A swift, sudden motion from the Grey Wizard flung Alatar against the rock wall behind him. Stunned by the impact, the Blue Wizard's spell faltered, and, like a candle sputtering in the wind, seemed unable to regain its full power.
Gandalf took a step closer to the fallen form, noting that Elrond swung out with his blade at the same moment and stepped closer to the Wizards. The move brought Aragorn and Legolas to Gandalf's sight for the first time as Elrond stood ready to attack again if necessary, but obviously greatly relieved to have been joined by Mithrandir.
Elf and Ranger both looked somewhat the worse for wear, but Gandalf was glad to see them both alive. Where there was life, there was hope.
Elrond swung his sword again but, somehow, Alatar blocked the blow. His attention, however, seemed not to waver from Gandalf.
"What do you here, Olórin?" The voice, raspy from disuse, still held the power of whatever magic the Blue Wizard possessed.
Gandalf allowed himself a half-smile at the question before replying. "I ask the same of you, Alatar! You have been missing for many a long year. Why are you here? What evil do you bring with you?"
Alatar sneered and raised his staff as though the sudden movement might escape Gandalf's notice. Gandalf raised his own staff in response, and for several moments the two battled in the manner of Wizards. Tossed to the ground or against the wall again and again, each was soon battered and bruised, but neither was prepared to surrender.
Gandalf, less weary of battle than his foe, soon gained the upper hand, and, though he was loathe to do it, he raised his staff in Alatar's direction. Before delivering what he was sure would be a fatal blow, he called out to the Wizard. "Surrender, my old friend. Admit your mistake in taking the course the Shadow laid before you, and perhaps you may yet fulfill your purpose in life!"
"Purpose?" Alatar sneered at the Grey Wizard. "My brother has been taken from me! Pallando is no more and it was thatthat creaturethat not-elf who took him! What purpose can there be for one accustomed to life lived in tandem? Half a life? Half a purpose?" He laughed, and his laughter filled not only the cavern with it's maniacal sound, but also the hearts of those who heard it.
Alatar then raised his own staff and pointed it at Gandalf. Gandalf braced himself for the magical blow even as he prepared to strike Alatar himself forcing himself to disregard Alatar's strange words about a not-elf.
At the last moment, whether stirred by some recollection that his true task–the purpose he and his brother had undertaken–had been left unfulfilled, Alatar turned as quickly as a thought and faced Aragorn.
Gandalf saw surprised upon Aragorn's face as he came under the Wizard's scrutiny. The Ranger quickly shook off any such emotion and did naught but position himself more directly between Alatar and Legolas. He had time for no more.
With a wordless shriek that tore at the souls of elf, human, and Wizard alike, Alatar loosed the power of his staff in the direction of the young Ranger. No sooner had streaks of blue, crackling energy left the staff end than Gandalf, with an outraged cry of his own, released the power of his own staff at Alatar.
Agony tore a cry of a different sort from the Blue Wizard's lips. Fire seemed to engulf him, and blue robes became blue flame. In no more than a moment, he was gone. Both flames and robes winked out of existence with the disappearance of the First–and Last–of the Blue Wizards.
**
Legolas had been stunned when the Blue Wizard tossed him into the stone wall. In his dazed state, his thoughts had turned to Thranduil. His mind cried out for his father, but the pain he felt, the disorientation, drove such thoughts from him.
The muscles in his back protested mightily when he struck the unyielding rock. It took the prince several moments to draw in a ragged breath and several more to still his trembling. His head throbbed in time to the beat of his heart, and he struggled to suppress the nausea the throbbing seemed to awaken.
Somehow, he managed to shift his head enough to catch a glimpse of Lord Elrond as he engaged the Wizard in battle. Legolas struggled to rise so that he might offer help to the Lord of Imladris, but he found he could not. He cursed himself for expecting elven resilience when he was unable to shake off the effects of the blow. Letting out a decidedly unelven groan, Legolas clenched his eyes shut stunned by the intensity of the nausea that reclaimed him.
He did not know how much time had passed. He thought it had been a matter of mere moments, but when he was confronted with Aragorn's face hovering just above his own, and he had no memory of his friend crossing the cavern to reach him, he had to admit he must have passed out for longer.
"Estel," he whispered, "are you well?"
Aragorn smiled at his friend. "That is what I would ask of you, mellonin."
Legolas returned the smile as well as he could placing one slender hand to his head. "I will be well, Estel. Help me to rise that we might help your father."
Aragorn gripped his friend's shoulders keeping him still. "Nay, my friend. You are in no condition." He glanced back at his father as the windstorm of Vilya and the Elf Lord's sword kept the Blue Wizard at bay. "Besides, I do not know what help you and I could offer."
Legolas followed Aragorn's gaze, and it was in that moment that they heard Gandalf's voice. Legolas' heart leapt in joy. "It is Mithrandir! He has come!" They watched the battle as Elrond and Gandalf struggled against the evil Wizard.
Both Ranger and Prince were transfixed by the battle wishing to be able to go to their aid. Legolas, however, knew he would be unable. He could not stand. His head was still pounding. He had lost his quiver, and one of his knives. It was only after cataloguing how he could be of no use to his friends that Legolas realized that Aragorn was able to stand. He placed his last weapon, his second elven blade, into his friend's hand and closed Aragorn's fingers around the hilt. "Take this my friend. Help them."
It was then that the Wizard, whose name, they had learned, was Alatar, turned to Aragorn.
Legolas read the intent in those stormy eyes. As Estel scrambled to position himself between the enraged Wizard and Legolas, the Prince groped futilely for his hand. "Nay, Estel! Do not!" Standing in battle with Lord Elrond and Mithrandir was one thing, but thisLegolas could not bear for his friend to place himself in danger for his sake.
Legolas watched Alatar raise his staff. He watched Aragorn raise his knife and stand between himself and the Wizard. As Gandalf and Alatar released blow and counterblow, Legolas watched, powerless to help. When Alatar's blow struck the Ranger, Legolas felt his heart tear in two. He never realized that the sound he heard was his own scream.
To Be Continued
Immortal-grace: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!
Deana: Yeah, Elrond's timed that well! I hope you like how he handled things in this chapter!
Leggylover03: Sorry for the evil cliffie. You probably don't like this one much, either! Plenty of pain and angst to come! Glad you liked Elrond!
Tychen: I'm sure Legolas appreciates your offer! Elrond needs to be the hero more often, I think. He's a great character!
Grumpy: Wow! I'm blushing! I'm thrilled this is one of your favorite stories! Everyone really likes the Elrond parts. I'm glad he came along, too!
Chloe Amethyst: I'm overjoyed that you liked it! Scary and intense was precisely what I was going for! As for Elrond, he's really striking a chord with everyone, it seems! I'm glad you caught the spiritual tone. It's the sort of thing I love to read, but I'm always afraid I might overdo it and turn off some readers. Legolasyes, that's what I was trying to get across! That he's willing to do what he feels he must for those around himthat he doesn't wallow in self-pity. I'm so tired of fics where Legolas cries every other paragraph! He's a strong character! A warrior! He's not into self-pity!
Catherinexxix: It's funny you said that. I thought so myself about this being a strong chapter! I'm glad you said so. Thanks for the flattering review. I love Celeborn and Galadriel, and, like Elrond, they seem to be minimalized from time to time. I'm glad you like what I'm doing with them! I'm glad you like Gandalf's use of magic, too! I imagine you either loved or hated the magic in this chapter!
Webster: Another vote in favor of the Elrond action! Thanks so much!
Mirrordance: Wow! Thanks! I will go onand onand on!
Sirithiliel: Oops! Sorry! If you can't handle the suspense, I don't imagine you cared much for this cliffie!
Endril McMerlyn: Great name! What a flattering review! You made my day! I am, of course, thrilled that you like what you've read so far. More Aragorn coming soon!
Gwyn: Yeah, Elrond was thinking like a father just then!
Hansay1300: Thanks!
Estelreader: Thank you for reading and for reviewing! The best parts of the LOTR universe, to me, are the relationships and how much they care for each other. Without that, I don't think we'd all be writing these fanfics!
Templa Otmena: I imagine this one was a bit of an evil cliffie, wasn't it? Sorry! Yeah, villains do seem to be inordinately perturbed by the simple fact that heroes fight back. Go figure! More Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf and everyone else in the next chapter!
Strider's Girl: Chapter twelve is sure the chapter to inspire reviews meant to make me blush! Thank you so much! And yes, as you can see, there will be plenty more Aragorn pain! I don't think you're sick to askwell, no sicker than the rest of us! LOL!
Fire Eagle: Thanks! I'm glad you like it! I hope you like this chapter, too!
White Wolf1: Yes, they really wanted to go along! That's pretty much why I let them in this chapter!
Elven Kitten: The important thing is you found it! Thanks! I'm glad you like it.
EnglishMystic: I hope this was soon enough!