See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.
Encroaching Darkness Part 17
By Ecri
Celeborn sliced through the last orc neck and watched it fall in satisfaction. There were few things in Arda to kindle the ferocity of an elf in battle as an orc-horde could do. Turning to the others, he saw who was standing, who was not, and who was missing entirely. He had felt Galadriel leave during the battle and knew that she took Elrohir and Aglarelen with her. Haldir was well, he noted with satisfaction, but upon Glrofindel's arm, he saw a great swathe of red. Instantly at the elf's side, he checked the injury.
"You are as bad as Lord Elrond, My Lord Celeborn!" Glorfindel teased the Lord of the Golden Wood.
Celeborn smiled at the taunt. "Aye, and I would not have the Lord, my son-in-law, return to see his friend grievously wounded."
"This is not so bad an injury. I will be well."
Elladan came up to the two older elves. "Glorfindel, you were not well. I saw you take this blow. You seemed to slow, as though distracted."
Glorfindel nodded. "I know not what is wrong, but I seem not to have recovered from that strange sickness that afflicted us."
Elladan frowned and would have spoken had Celeborn not done so first. "My friend, we must take you to the camp." He made a sign to Haldir who came forward with two warriors. "Have Lord Glorfindel escorted to the camp. He will need rest at the least."
Glorfindel opened his mouth to protest, but Celeborn placed a hand upon his uninjured arm. "My friend, please do this thing. Lord Elrond seeks his son. We know there is evil within this cave, and the fewer of us who are in its path, the more might survive to help those injured." Celeborn gestured towards the cavern's depths. "Several Lords and princes wander this darkness now. Do you not think placing one out of harm's way might be prudent?"
Glorfindel nodded, though Celeborn could see he wished nothing more than to break from his grip and find the Lord of Imladris himself.
He waited as two of Haldir's archers escorted Glrofindel back the way they'd come.
Turning towards Elladan, his eyes frantically searched his grandson.
Elladan smiled. "I am well. Let us find the others." He gestured down a corridor. "I saw Grandmother, Aglarelen, and Elrohir take this path."
As they walked deeper into the darkness, Celeborn sought his wife's presence. Finding it, he made no demands on it, knowing that, should she be in some life-threatening predicament, distraction was the last thing she would need.
Using the sense of her he had found as a beacon, he followed it with greater and greater confidence that he was on the right trail. It was upon finding her that he could not believe what he beheld.
**
King Thranduil moved ever more swiftly through Middle-earth, hardly pausing to issue orders to those elves who came with him. They knew their duty, and they would follow him without the need for words when such things could not communicate the urgency that grew in his heart.
The pace he had set might be considered reckless to some, but those few would be unwilling to admit that there were some things that were of greater worth than rational thought, logic, and caution. His sons were in need. That was all he knew and all he need know.
It was as he traveled that he became aware of the feeling of being watched. The more he tried to ignore it, the more certain he was that his every move was under scrutiny. What it could be he would not guess, for blind guessing was not a thing in which he often indulged. A thought struck him that he should slow down, investigate, for if some evil followed he would not bring it to his sons.
As he slowed his horse, he sensed someone ahead. There, where there had been nothing shortly before, he saw a tall figure in long, white robes. Pulling his reluctant mount to a stop, he addressed the welcome sight.
"Saruman! What brings you to this road and so far from Isengard?" Thranduil had heard the White Wizard sometimes left his tower when the need was great, but that was usually when he was in search of knowledge or when he was asked for counsel. The Wizard's appearance now spoke of haste. He stood by a horse that seemed lathered and hard ridden. His face was flushed as from such a ride over some great distance.
"I have come as quickly as I was able, King Thranduil. I saw the need of my assistance."
Thranduil nodded, though some thought, some doubt nibbled at the edge of awareness.
Saruman continued to speak, taking one step toward the Elven King. "I had a vision of your sons in some dire need, and of the Lord Elrond in fierce battle. I go to offer what help I can. After all, we are all allies against the one Enemy."
Thranduil nodded wondering what it was that he had found disturbing. Brushing away his concerns, likely brought on by too much worry and hasty riding, he nodded to the Wizard. "Your help is a gift from Eru himself, Saruman! Come! I ride to them now! I have had dreams of their need as well, though I am sure you know much more than I!"
Thranduil gestured for Saruman to come ride by him, and the White Wizard complied. At first, the King was reticent to reveal any details of his fears for his sons, or for the condition that had led the two to seek assistance in The Golden Wood. After answering but a few of Saruman's questions, and hearing the soothing words and reassurances the Istar spoke to him in his smooth and comfort-laden voice, Thranduil became more and more relieved that his course had led him to the White Wizard.
**
Saruman had been riding away from the battle between Gandalf and the spirit of the Blue Wizard with great haste. He did not truly believe anyone might discern his connections to what had happened there, but he was not willing to take the risk. Too much was at stake, and too much had already been lost.
He had not foreseen the arrival of Mirkwood's King, though he cursed himself now for his shortsightedness. Thranduil had always been much more difficult to predict than the other elven lords, but Saruman had been convinced as he had watched the plans of the Ithryn Luin unfold that the King would remain in his kingdom. Saruman would not have been surprised if Elrond had abandoned Rivendell to seek even one of his accursed offspring. Of course, the foul taint of human blood would make the Peredhil more emotional, less stable, than his fully elven counterparts.
Thranduil's choice, however, made no sense. Thranduil had seemed often enough to put his realm ahead of his family, but there were always occasions when he stepped outside of this pattern. Why had Thranduil–Sindar King of the Woodland Realm, with not a drop of foreign blood to taint his elven heritage–why had he abandoned Mirkwood simply to seek his sons?
Staying in Mirkwood and making his realm safe from the encroaching darkness of the growing shadow should have been enough for the elf. Instead, he had abandoned his realm and taken off to be sure of his sons' well being.
Saruman pondered this as he rode beside the King asking pointed questions and gathering what information he could. It soon occurred to him that Thranduil rode after not one, but two of his sons. Perhaps the oldest onesurely that! Thranduil must have heard the call of the Sea. He must be ready to leave Middle-earth and so would want to relinquish his Kingdom to his oldest son. There could be no other explanation.
Pleased with his reasoning, Saruman next considered how best to turn such information to his own use. Thranduil was considered by many to be the best elven King to have ruled in Middle-earth. Without him, the Woodland Realm might easily crumble or be taken in battle. His orcs would make short work of a defeated, disillusioned people who had lost their King. Certainly, they would have their new King, but Thranduil's son could neither be even half as formidable a ruler nor as sincere a threat as Thranduil himself. The next King of Mirkwood would not have the same desire to see Sauron defeated as Thranduil, who had held his father in his arms as Oropher's immortal life bled away.
The closer they came to the cavern where Gandalf and Alatar battled, the more pleased Saruman was to be returning to the very place he had only just fled. Arriving with the distraught King who sought only news of his sons' well being would provide cover enough for his actions.
He had used his most secret devices and spells to maintain some measure of awareness of the events unfolding within those dark caves and beyond, but he was not sure now who would prevail. Foresight was always a fickle mistress whether approached through Seeing Stones, dreams, or other more chemical methods. Often revealing only what it wished, or bending such sights to keep valued information away from those who might wield it to greater purpose, it was a sense that could be counted upon only to keep one guessing.
Guessing was what he had been doing when he'd seen the last vision that had spurred him from his hiding place to seek the solace of Isengard and the comfort of his notes, books, and scrolls of ancient history and lore. He had seen Lady Galadriel raise her hand, though he saw no reason for her to do so. She had seemed to be suggesting something to Elrond, but try as he might, Saruman could find out nothing more specific. Deciding it must be some elven spell that they wished to cast–weak in the face of the magic of a Wizard, though, he conceded, perhaps not in comparison to a disembodied Wizard–he had come to realize that he could gain little by remaining so close to disaster. Alatar would be destroyed, or he would acquire an elven body. There was naught he was willing to do in aid of either event.
The Ithryn Luin had failed in the missive Sauron had given them. The Dark Lord lacked power in some respects right now and had obviously expected the Blue Wizards to eliminate the one human that caused him any concern. Instead the Wizards had been bested by an elf, though he was quick to realize that his own spell had been the instrument of that failure. Pallando should not have been killed so easily by the human elf, but, still, Saruman found himself wondering why the Dark Lord had not told the Blue Wizards of the spell that had stolen the Prince's elvishness.
Something had shifted, obviously, and the Great Eye either did not see that the Ithryn Luin would depend upon such elvishness to separate the human from his companions, or, perhaps, the Ithryn Luin had made some mistake in the casting of it. Whatever it had been, Saruman knew he had to find some way to salvage the situation, and he had. A feeble spell to be sure, but it would have the desired effect. Sauron's goal would be met, and some of the elves would suffer as well, perhaps being left behind, or at the least easily separated from the others. Saruman might yet have an elf or two on which to perfect the many spells he was still devising.
It was also true that one human that Sauron feared had not truly been identified–at least not beyond doubt. The Enemy suspected it was this Ranger, this Strider, but he did not know for certain. The Lord of Mordor was having perhaps a dozen men followed and dispatched to their final reward just to be certain he killed the right man.
His thoughts drifted back to the elf who rode by his side. He watched with detached interest as the sound of his voice effectively altered the King's thinking. His spells often aided him in clouding his involvement in the evils that now plagued Middle-earth as he stretched his powers and tested their limits. He was deceiving the Deceiver and it was he, not Sauron, who would rule Middle-earth.
Saruman would not allow interference. As he rode beside the elven King, he could not help but consider that perhaps there was a way to turn this to an advantage. That was the only reason he had agreed to ride with the Mirkwood elves. He had spent no few months recently trying to determine if he should bend Thranduil's will to his own ends. It would be no simple task, but it was one he could achieve.
He had planned a much different fate for the Princeling, Thranduil's youngest son, though Alatar's possession of that soul had fouled his careful planning. Still, he had done damage of his own within the ranks of the elves that now raced through those caverns like the rats he sometimes set to racing each other through the artificial labyrinths of his own design.
Saruman allowed himself a small smile. Whatever happened now, he would be sure to be in a position to reap the largest reward. Saruman's successes so far had vastly outweighed any minor setbacks he had experienced. His own superior intellect and unerring logic had already set him above others of his kind. It would set him, by the end of this age, at the highest of pinnacles.
**
Aragorn desired little else than to help Gandalf reclaim Legolas. How this could be achieved, the Ranger had no clue, though his heart trembled at the horror the elf–for such he still was in Aragorn's heart and mind–was enduring.
He watched in mute anticipation of some moment when he could join the battle, but was soon distracted by a growing presence behind him. It was not sound nor smell, but something less–and also something more–that turned his attention to the small passage that otherwise he would not have noticed.
It was a great shock to him to see Elrohir, Aglarelen, and Galadriel enter the cavern. The Lady of the Golden Wood could not have seemed more out of place anywhere. The shock of seeing her–one who would be more at home beneath the sun and among the limbs of the Mallorn–here in this dank, dark cave that seemed too dismal a hole even for orcs, brought a small cry of surprise to his lips.
He turned towards them, moving as swiftly as he could, given his injuries. He saw Aglarelen's attention drawn to his brother's presence. He was about to say something to stay the elf, when his father's sudden words saved him the task.
As Elrond explained what had happened, Elrohir approached Aragorn and slipped an arm around his waist, offering support and balance. Aragorn gave his brother a smile. Likely, the healer in his brother had recognized the pain he tried to hide.
"Estel!" Elrohir's surprise to see him in this condition was apparent. His brother spoke in elvish in soft soothing tones, which, in itself, was a great comfort to Aragorn. "What has happened? Has Ada seen to your hurts?"
Aragorn replied as he could, softly explaining to his brother what had befallen Legolas, and glossing over any mention of his own injuries. "You must help him, Elrohir! Tell me what I can do! Help me to save him!"
Elrohir spoke softly, shushing Aragorn. "I can do nothing that Gandalf cannot do, my brother. Mithrandir will not allow anything to happen to him!"
Aragorn then heard Elrond, an odd mixture of relief and concern touching his voice. "Elrohir! My son, are you well? Is your brother well?"
His brother's hesitation made Aragorn's heart sink making the words he uttered hardly necessary. Once Elrohir spoke, Aragorn turned quickly, his eyes seeking his father's reaction to such news. The Ranger could see indecision in his eyes and fear and worry creasing his noble brow.
Galadriel then raised her hand revealing Nenya and urging Elrond to remain where he was in case the Power of the Three Rings was needed. Aragorn had not considered this. His mind, perhaps distracted by the ever-growing pain in his head and worry for his friend, had not given thought to the revelation of Vilya to a servant of the Dark Lord. He berated himself for the slowness of his thoughts once again feeling the dim human amidst a race of sharp-witted elves, he studied his father's face. He saw acceptance there, even readiness to step in to end this no matter the cost to himself.
He heard a sound then, a savage, bloodthirsty sound, and turned to see Legolas hurl himself–Nay! It was Alatar, not Legolas who behaved as such!–Alatar attacked Gandalf.
Pulling away from Elrohir's comfort and support, Aragorn made a move towards the two battling figures only to feel the steely grips of four of the Firstborn seize him and hold him. He struggled as best he could, but the pounding of his head was increasing.
Ceasing his attempts to break from them, he fought the dizziness that would have sent him crashing to the floor had not so many elves held a piece of him. The pain in his head blocked all other sensations. He could not hear. He could feel naught but the pounding in his head. He seemed to lose all balance then and would have fought it vainly had he not realized at the last moment that he was not falling, but was instead being gently lowered to the ground.
He gazed up into the faces of four fearful elves before his sight, too, gave out. As he plunged into darkness, he called out to the one who had always answered his cry for help since he was two years old. "Ada"
**
Elrohir raced after his grandmother and the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, wondering where it was that they went. The corridor was lit dimly though Galadriel's glow seemed to outshine any elf Elrohir had ever seen.
Galadriel, though she did not turn to him, knew somehow that he had followed. "We go to aid Legolas, and perhaps your father, should they be together." Her voice took on the strange slow timbre it usually did when some vision of the future came to her. "The Greenleaf falters." Now she did turn revealing a face of sorrow and concern. "Do not falter yourself, Elrohir. Find your strength and reject the lethargy that plagues you."
Elrohir, though long accustomed to his grandmother's cryptic words and uncanny knowledge of things she should not know, wondered how blatant his torpidity had been. He had seen none of it in the other elves, though perhaps a hint of it in Glorfindel. How had his grandmother? He cut off the thought. It mattered not how. He resolved to do as she bid, only hoping it was within his control.
He could feel tension from Aglarelen, knowing his worry for Legolas might easily surpass his own for Aragorn. After all, The Lady of the Golden Wood had just foreseen Legolas' need of aid. What further pronouncement could have stricken an elven heart so piercingly?
Elrohir saw ahead of them a slight break in the darkness. Realizing it led to a widening of the cavern only as he stepped through it, it surprised him no end to see Aragorn, obviously injured, turn to face them. He hobbled towards them and Elrohir moved swiftly to his side.
Noting Aglarelen's cry for his brother, he looked towards Gandalf and Legolas, but it was his father's arrival at his side that eased his heart.
He heard Elrond speaking, though his ears seemed to drink in the sound of Aragorn's voice. "Estel!" He called in elvish. "What has happened? Has Ada seen to your hurts?"
He listened to Aragorn's befuddled explanations and strong exhortation that he do something to aid the Prince. Elrohir did not know what his brother thought he could do in the face of what was happening, but it was enough that he asked. That this young human he called brother put such faith in him strengthened his own desire to do all that he could. Even though, for now, it seemed to him that all he could do was calm Estel's fears.
Elrond's voice called to him then, asking after Elledan, and the elf hesitated to reveal in what dire predicament he had left his twin. As soon as he'd divulged Elladan's plight, he felt his heart constrict at the anguish such news caused his father. He reached out then to his brother seeking some assurance that Elladan had not been struck down. They had shared a strong connection since before their birth. They often communicated in such a way.
Relief flooded Elrohir as he felt the familiar connection. Elladan was well! He was about to share such solace with his father, but Galadriel chose that moment to reveal Nenya.
Elrohir had rarely seen any of the Rings of Power though he had known of them. That there might be need to wield them now–together–froze his heart with fear. Surely they had not reached such dire straits as that!
It was then that he heard the howl. Legolas' voice, yet not Legolas', reverberated through the cavern with a rage, he had never before heard from elf or man. Aragorn pulled away from him, but Elrohir reached out pulling him back. Aglarelen, Elrond, and Galadriel each did the same.
It was fortunate that they had, for Aragorn suddenly froze, and, in his stillness, Elrohir knew something was wrong.
Aragorn swayed for a moment and would have fallen had they not all held him so firmly. Gently, they eased him to the ground. Elrohir was surprised to see his face so gray. Weakness claimed him suddenly and Elrohir could think of no cause. He turned to his father as Aragorn whispered, "Ada," and was still.
Frantic, Elrohir pleaded with Elrond. "What is it? What has happened?"
Lord Elrond ran his hands over his son's battered body, but he seemed unable to answer. Elrohir saw his father turn to his grandmother.
Galadriel placed a tender hand across Aragorn's eyes and closed her own. When she opened them, Elrohir felt his heart break. "He is dying. There is little we can do. We must take him from these caverns if we are to have any hope of saving him. Evil fouls this place."
"We have not been able to find the passage!" Elrond's frustration boiled over flooding the cavern. "We have been prevented by some dark purpose."
Galadriel again closed her eyes and seemed to search unseeing. Opening them again, she grasped Elrohir's hand. "You will take your brother to the camp."
Elrohir nodded. He would do this. Somehow, he would. She offered him a small smile. "You will not fail, Elrohir."
Heartened by her words, he gathered Aragorn to him, and stood cradling the man as though he were naught but a small child. He would do this. He could not fail.
To Be Continued
Deana: Eighteen is almost finished. (I hope!) More to come soon!
Silvertoekee: It is getting a little crowded in there! More Aragorn as soon as I get him out of the cave. (I can't seem to get them to leave.
Grumpy: SureTrin and Deana can make a little room for one more, I suppose. Like I said to Deana, chapter 18 will be up soon!
Catherinexxix: Okay, now it's getting crowded on the doorstep and the neighbors are starting to talk. (Trin, Deana, and Grumpy, she said she'd bring hot chocolate and blankets!) You seem to be partial to Aragorn, Elrond, and Gandalf! I'm glad you like this. I'm thrilled you liked the bit when Elrond was considering going back for Elladan. I don't think he could have made himself leave, however. I don't want to alienate my muse, but I'm kinda surprised at how long this has gotten, too. With the addition of this chapter, it's now the longest thing I've posted.
Jopru: Sorry about the cliffie. I can't seem not to write them.
Lauren: Thanks! I'll e-mail some fanfic recommendations to you.
Jadesaber: Is he dying? He's dying. Whether or not he'll remain dying I won't really say!
Templa Otema: You? Psycho fan-girl? Naahh! Seriously, there's nothing wrong with obsession, as long as we know what time the last ship leaves Middle-earth! I'm glad you liked Gandalf's blessing as well as Gandalf in this chapter, and the thoughts of some of the characters about having to kill Legolas. Gandalf is a wonderful character, and I'm thrilled you like the way I've written him! Legolas? LOL! Yeah, I have to try and get more of him into this story, don't I? Cliffies are addictive. I can't seem to stop now.
Cosmic Castaway: OkayI'll just raise my hands and back away. Next chapter is almost ready. More Legolas and Aragorn angst to come.
Leggylover03: Thanks! As I've mentioned, more Estel pain on the way!
Tychen: I hope this chapter answered some of your questions. I promise to get to every one before the last chapter.
Sirithiliel: Yes, Alatar can still use magic, but he's not as strong as he was in his own body.
Elven Kitten: You're right! They do! Thanks for reading and reviewing.
Fire Eagle: Thanks! Glad you like it.
Estelreader: LOL! Wow! That makes five of you out there on the steps! I'm writing as fast as I can! I promisemy POTC muse is getting a little angry that I keep putting her off, though Seriously, you asked all the right questions. I'll answer them all in the coming chapters.
Chloe Amethyst: That's true. I guess its like having all your eggs in one basket. Still, Sauron isn't as strong here as he is in LOTR, and I don't think the elves are as likely to turn on each other in the event that all their leaders are killed. Mass exodus to Valinor is probably as bad as it gets. The Glorfindel and Elrohir problem will become clearer. You are, of course, right about the repetition, and I've been trying to avoid that. This chapter was a bit better, I think. Thanks again for your reviews. They mean a lot to me!
White Wolf1: You're right! I hadn't realized that! Your story and mine were so different that it hadn't occurred to me. Anyone reading this story who hasn't read White Wolf's The Wrong Path yet, go read it now. Go on! You'll be glad you did!