See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.
Encroaching Darkness Part 19
By Ecri
Glorfindel paced before the entrance to that dark and dismal cave. He would have raced back inside, so intent was he on learning what had befallen Elrond and his sons, but his sense of duty would not give him leave to flout one of Lord Celeborn's orders. He had been asked to wait here at the camp, and wait he would, though, in truth, he was certain he'd rather face an orc-horde alone than to stand here unable to offer assistance.
Finally, the sound of running from just inside the cavern came to his sharp ears. A few minutes later, Elrohir stumbled out with Estel in his arms, followed soon after by Elladan pulling an unwilling Aglarelen along behind him.
"What has happened?" He asked the question even as he motioned for the others of Haldir's warriors to prepare what medicines had been gathered. Already the smell of athelas drifted through the camp as a handful was dropped into a pot of steaming water. The clean, smell seemed to clear Glorfindel's head as the fresh air had not.
Elrohir gently placed Estel on one of the pallets that had been prepared while Elladan still held firmly to Aglarelen who seemed intent on going back into the cavern. Glorfindel could see that the Ranger was unconscious, but Elrohir explained as well as he could. "He is not well. It is a blow to the head and who knows what other injuries. Ada" here the young lord's voice cracked, causing Glorfindel to look up sharply. He could glean no information from Elrohir's face, but it was clear both twins worried for their father.
"He will be well." Glorfindel's voice was the merest whisper, but the twins seemed to relax with that brief assurance though in truth neither they nor Glorfindel could say if he spoke of Estel or of Elrond.
Glorfindel, feeling more himself, turned to Haldir. "There were orcs inside, so we can assume there may be yet more within and without. Set up a double guard along the perimeter, and set several at the mouth of the cave. We will need to have warning if any of those fell beasts try to take us by surprise."
Haldir nodded in acceptance of Glorfindel's orders as easily as if they had come from his own lord or lady. In moments, the elven warriors had been dispatched to their posts. Glorfindel returned his attention to Estel.
"Can you aid him?" He asked the question of both twins, unsure if either was up to the task.
Elladan nodded. "I can, but he would be in better hands if Ada were here." The eldest of Elrond's children gestured to the large lump on the back of Estel's head and the rusty stains on his collar. "It is a head injury, and a severe one. It is not fresh, so there is no telling how long this went untreated before Ada was able to see to it. Even then, he had time only for a quick dressing and a bit of athelas." Worry laced his words bringing a tightness to his voice and glimmer of despair to his eyes.
"Your father will be here soon, Elladan. All you need to do is keep him well until then." Glorfindel's pronouncement made it seem a simple thing, and Elladan smiled.
Glorfindel placed a hand upon his arm in a gesture of support before going to seek his brother. Elrohir sat motionless nearby, breathing deeply of the fragrance of athelas that lingered in the air though his attention did not stray from his brothers.
Glorfindel moved to his side and sat beside him. "I saw you during the orc battle." He whispered. He had wanted to speak to Elrohir as soon as he had realized that the younger elf must be affected as he was. "I must confess you looked much as I felt."
Elrohir looked him in the eye as if gauging the truth in his words. "I have not felt myself since we awakened."
"Nor have I." Glorfindel admitted seeing Elrohir's relief that he was not the only one so afflicted. "I do not know why you and I should feel differently than the others, but perhaps it is something that your father can decipheror your grandparents"
Elrohir smiled. "Or Gandalf! We have no shortage of people whom we may ask!"
It was then that the sound of many horses reached their ears. Glorfindel stood and drew his weapon, as did every warrior not already guarding the perimeter of their camp. He took a step forward then, placing himself between the unknown threat and his Lord's son. He would give his life to protect Elrohir, and the young twin was not at his best just now. Though he knew the younger elf would little appreciate such a gesture, it was for Elrond's sake that he did it. Conveniently, he dismissed the knowledge that whatever Elrohir suffered had affected him as well.
As the approaching horses came into view, Glorfindel sheathed his sword. "Mae Govannen, Aran Thranduil!" He stepped forward to catch at the King's horse, noting immediately the way Thranduil cast his eyes about the camp as though searching for something.
He glanced around, but saw Aglarelen breaking free from the warrior that held him from racing back to the caverns where Legolas fought for his life. He stepped aside to allow father and son a private reunion.
**
Aglarelen fought with Elladan the length of the corridors. He strained against the strong arms that kept him moving relentlessly away from his brother's side wondering all the while where Elladan had come by such unnatural strength. It did not occur to him that Elladan was driven to leave the caverns with the same force of will that called him back inside, for Elladan's injured brother traveled along these corridors ahead of them in Elrohir's arms and would soon reach their camp.
Once outside, though he sought after Estel's health and did what little he could, he was forever trying to return to Legolas. Soon Glorfindel ordered a guard to stand near him and keep him from running blindly through the cavern.
He settled reluctantly to wait, but was forever testing his guard's presence of mind. One lapse and he would be by Legolas' side in an instant. The warrior was alert, however, and Aglarelen was left alone with his thoughts. Anxiety over his brother's health was his only companion. The sight of Legolas falling on Aglarelen's sword was a sight that would haunt him all the days of his life. There would be no erasing that image save perhaps by the peace to be found only in Valinor.
He listened to Elladan's whispered words about Estel's condition. He saw Glorfindel speak softly to Elrohir, but his mind was not on what played out before him. It was deep within the cavern behind him, with Legolas, where he'd left his heart.
The sound of horses running came to him and he rose though his guard immediately blocked his path. Scowling in a manner that would remind any Woodelf of King Thranduil, Aglarelen turned reluctantly away from the cavern and towards the approaching horses. His heart leapt with joy at the sight of his father and he was by the King's side in moments.
"Ada!" Aglarelen cried out as Thranduil slipped off the bare back of his horse. "Ada! You have come! How did you find us?"
Thranduil held onto Aglarelen as he had never held onto anything in his life. "How could I help but find you when your cries were like a beacon calling me to your side?"
Aglarelen had not realized his father had heard his heart's anguished call. In truth, as the horrific sights inside that cave had unfolded before him, he had felt like an elfling again pleading for his Ada to come to him and make everything right again. It had almost embarrassed him, but if the result was that he stood now in his father's warm embrace, he was happy to have done it.
Thranduil opened his mouth to speak, but Aglarelen, knowing what he would ask, offered all he knew. "It is Legolas, Ada. He is" He gestured behind him towards the cave. "He is inside. There is a great battle"
Thranduil cut him off drawing his own sword. "Then we shall go to him and help him!"
"No! It is not the sort of battle in which such weapons will aid us." He hesitated the briefest of moments before filling his father in on what he had seen. He watched his father's face, familiarity allowing him to see the subtle way each word he spoke affected Thranduil. His heart was near to breaking when he finally finished the tale. "Mithrandir fights for him now, buthe took my sword! He plunged it deep into his side!" The memory was too much for him. Aglarelen, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, who often stood before rank upon rank of well-armed orcs without flinching, could not now help but weep at the memory of his dear brother lying motionless in a pool of his own blood. Blood that had been spilt by the very blade Aglarelen called his own.
Thranduil held his son, and Aglarelen was grateful that he chose not to speak. The only thing he wanted now was to see Legolas whole and hale. The longer it took for Gandalf and the others to appear with him, however, the more firmly despair gripped his heart. With great force of effort he ceased his tears. It did his brother an injustice to weep for Legolas as though he had already departed this world's realm for the Halls of Mandos.
It was then that a sound behind them became a shout, and a single glance confirmed the arrival of the others. The sound of running feet echoed through the doorway of stone, and in mere moments Celeborn bore the bleeding body of the Prince of Mirkwood out of the darkness. The others, pale and spent, appeared just behind him breathing deeply and instinctually of the athelas laden air.
Aglarelen tore away from his father's embrace, but at the sight his heart feared most, that of Legolas limp, bleeding, and unconscious, the wail of the Crown Prince of Mirkwood was sorrow itself given voice.
**
Thranduil had heard his son's anguished cry as he raced through the forest not caring if Saruman or his own warriors followed. At a breakneck speed, he defied the tree roots and rocks and others obstacles to trip up his horse as his heart focused on finding his sons.
A firm grip on his arm surprised him for he had not thought anyone could reach him. Glancing toward the source of that grip, he saw Saruman staring at him, concern on his face andsomething more that the Elven King could not place. Slowing his mount, he looked questioningly at the Wizard.
"Caution would be best here, King Thranduil, for your pace could prove the death of you."
Thranduil grew uncomfortable at the way Saruman seemed to linger over the word 'death' as though it were a sweet treat he was loath to allow to leave his lips. Shaking off both the feeling and the grip, he wondered for a moment if he had pushed his warriors too hard. He glanced back and saw that they were keeping up, but they did appear winded
No! His heart cried out to him, overruling the logic his mind wished him to follow. My sons! He turned to Saruman. "You do not understand. You are not what I am! You cannot comprehend what I feel! I must make haste and find my sons!" Thranduil knew no being who had not been a parent could comprehend what it meant to have his children simultaneously in such danger and so far from them. He did not blame Saruman, and he would likely even forgive the Wizard his ignorance. He pushed his horse into a mad gallop, and left Saruman staring after him.
It was nearly an hour later that he first caught sight of the elven warriors. They wore the colors of Lothlorien, and Thranduil puzzled over such a thing. His sons had departed from Rivendell. What were Lorien elves doing here? They were not yet close enough to the Golden Wood to encounter a perimeter guard. Indeed, they were barely halfway between Imladris and Lothlorien. Dismissing the particulars, he approached one guard, identified himself, and was immediately granted leave to enter the camp.
He was close, Thranduil could tell. Aglarelen's heart cried out to him, hastening him on his way. Rather than dismounting as he would normally do to lead his mount through the camp of a band of elves, he rode on, pushing his loyal steed to endure the pace for a short while longer.
Finally reaching the campsite, he caught sight of Glorfindel who moved swiftly toward him, but he gave no thought to the ancient elf's words. His eyes scanned the camp, finally coming to rest on his eldest son. He dismounted with a grace only the Firsborn could manage and swept his child–for even though he was ancient by the reckoning of mortals, Aglarelen was still his child–into an embrace. He would have been hard pressed to say who needed the physical contact more, his son or himself.
He listened to the words his son offered by way of explanation, his heart near to bursting in his chest as Aglarelen described what had happened to Legolas. That his sons had endured so much while he had sat in safety in Mirkwood's cavernous palace was a horrific thought to him.
He had said as much to his other sons before his hurried departure from Mirkwood. Oropherin had been most against his leaving Mirkwood insisting that he or Tarmathalion would be better choices for the journey.
Thranduil recalled his vehement reply to the suggestion.
"You do not understand, Oropherin! They call to me! Whether consciously or unconsciously, they call to me! Not their King, but their father! I will not have anyone else ride in my stead!"
"Ada," Oropherin said calmly, "I do not suggest that you abandon your obligations as their father, just that you consider that Mirkwood needs you as well."
Thranduil turned to his son. "Do not presume to tell me my duties. I know them well!" His heart softened as his son looked away from him, and Thranduil knew Oropherin struggled with his own concerns over what fate his brothers might face. "I leave Mirkwood in good hands. You will be Sovereign until I return with your brothers. Between you and Tarmathalion, Mirkwood will hardly know I am away."
Oropherin had accepted his words in the end, and had helped him convince a reluctant Tarmathlion that this was for the best. Thranduil knew what had prompted the pair to insist they would be better suited to search for Aglarelen and Legolas. The two were going half-mad with worry over their brothers. Not one of them had been unaffected by Legolas' condition, and though each was glad that Aglarelen had remained with the youngest of their number, each also wished to be the one to whom Legolas clung.
Thranduil knew that neither Oropherin nor Tarmathalion begrudged the closeness their brothers felt for each other. Indeed, they themselves were closer to each other than to either of their other siblings, though the relationships of all four were closer than the King could ever have imagined in those long ago years before his children had been born. It was simply this feeling of uselessness, this inability to set things right for their youngest brother that had each wishing for nothing more than some task to accomplish that might, in the end, aid their Greenleaf to reclaim that which had been stolen from him.
Thranduil could never blame them for that, but he hoped only that they understood his need to find their brothers himself rather than to wrestle with matters of state many miles away from where the two faced danger.
He knew now, even as he embraced Aglarelen that he had left his middle sons to the very torment he had escaped by racing out here. The torment of not knowing, of guessing what could be happening to those they loved would be hard for them to bear, and he knew he would be hard-pressed to make it up to them.
Any other thoughts of his family were driven from his mind as the sound of running feet came to him. As did every other elf in the camp, Thranduil turned towards the cavern entrance in time to see the Lord Celeborn, carrying the limp form of his youngest son, being followed by Galadriel, Elrond, and Gandalf. None looked well, but his eyes were riveted to his son. He was about to cry out Legolas' name, when Aglarelen's voice echoed through the forest. His sorrow only added to Thranduil's and the King raced to Celeborn to take his son from the ancient warrior's arms.
"Legolas!" He called, then turned to Celeborn. "What has happened? Tell me!"
Celeborn looked from Thranduil to Aglarelen and back again, finally releasing the Wood elf he cradled to the loving arms of his father. "We must see to his wound." Celeborn said little else, and urged Thranduil closer to the fire, where Glorfindel, Elrohir, and Elladan had prepared a place for Legolas.
Thranduil reluctantly placed his son by the fire, but refused to relinquish his hold on Legolas' hand. Elrond came near, examining Legolas' wound, and doing what he could to stop the bleeding as Thranduil watched.
**
Elrond stumbled blindly through the corridors, following Galadriel as closely as he was able. The third time he nearly walked into the wall, the Lady took his arm and led him from the caverns. He saw her casting a concerned eye over his weary frame more than once, but he ignored it. His thoughts were on his son and the Prince of Mirkwood.
The battle with The Blue Wizard who had taken Legolas' body had been difficult, and he could only guess that he felt worse than the others because of the odd affliction that had kept him unconscious earlier. He had pushed that puzzle from his mind as he had sought his son's whereabouts, and battle, using Vilya, as well as the arrival of his sons, his wife's parents, and Gandalf, had kept him from considering what had happened.
Now, his thoughts seemed once again to be his own, and he took advantage of it. Allowing Galadriel to lead him and Gandalf to walk behind on the lookout for orcs or others that might hinder their progress, Lord Elrond indulged himself. His mind grappled with the thought that something had intentionally caused the elves in his party to fall into that unnatural state. It must have been the Ithryn Luin, he was certain. They must have done this, but Alatar had claimed not to have harmed Legolas. If he had not cast the spell on the young prince and made him mortal and human, who had?
He could not help but wonder if the spell the Blue Wizards had cast might have caused some damage to some of their party. He remembered awakening and finding it impossible to bring the others from their stupor. It had been a difficult thing to leave them, but some urgency had taken hold of him and he could do nothing except to go after Estel.
Estel was now dying if Galadriel's words could be believed. He had no cause to think she was mistaken, and he had not had the chance to examine the wound as he would have liked. So concerned had he and Gandalf been with getting Estel and Legolas from the cave that he had made quick work of their initial treatmentand that had been before the encounter with Alatar's spirit! The field medicine he had employed was enough to make it possible to move them, but he had thought to reach the open air much more quickly. He would have seen the seriousness of Estel's head injury if they had only been able to leave this cursed cave!
The thought of the cave brought his attention back to his surroundings. He was about to vent his frustrations and let loose the preposterous thought that there was literally no way to leave this place, when he saw a faint glow ahead.
When they finally exited the caverns into the twilight, he blinked his eyes at the sudden brightness, though he knew, soon enough, he would wish it to be brighter.
Elrond followed Celeborn, Galadriel's hand still on his arm. He blinked in surprise when Thranduil appeared before them demanding to know what had happened. Elrond watched as Celeborn passed Legolas to his father, and moved them towards the fire.
He took note of Estel, still and, silent, eyes closed, and face pale and wet with sweat. His heart launched itself from its rightful place in his chest and lodged itself firmly in his throat where he could neither spit it out nor swallow it down. He looked to Elladan and began to ask for the things he would need to stop Legolas' bleeding. The broken foot and other injuries would have to wait until Legolas was out of immediate danger.
Blood still oozed from the deep wound Legolas had inflicted upon himself. Elrond had no idea what had been going through the young elf's mind, but, as a warrior would, he had known how best to debilitate his own body. The wound was deep and, he realized only now, Leoglas had twisted the blade. Had he presumed that only his own death would defeat the Wizard or had his instinct's, sharpened by years of battle with the Shadow in Mirkwood, taken over and forced him to treat himself as he might any enemy?
He would not be able to answer such questions unless Legolas himself decided to explain his thoughts. Elrond instead tried to find the right words and herbs, some water, and fresh bandages. It took some time and care, but soon the wound was properly cleaned and wrapped. A cursory examination of Legolas' broken foot proved it was indeed broken and not sprained. Nor was it the ankle. Rather it was one of the major bones in the foot itself that had snapped. He could not imagine how this had been done. It was difficult to set, and he had to rely on strong bandages, for a splint would do little in this instance. Thanking Eru that Legolas was not aware enough to feel the pain he must be causing, Elrond wrapped the foot, wincing a the sight of the bruised flesh. He was aware that Thranduil was watching his every move, but he did not allow this to distract him. Legolas received the same care Elrond would give his own sons.
Estel had not been left untended, however. Galadriel and Elladan had done what they could for the man until Elrond was able to turn his full attention on his foster son. Elrond turned questioning eyes on Galadriel, unaccustomed to being the one asking about another's condition rather than the one being asked. It was not a feeling with which he was comfortable, and it was one he preferred not to experience again.
Galadriel turned to him, sadness in her eyes. "Estel is dying,"
"So you said inside." He gestured toward the cave. "Is there naught we can do?"
She looked down at the man. "His future is unclear to me. It shifts and changes with each moment. Call to him, Elrond. Call him back from Shadow."
Elrond did as she bade him, his heart grasping desperately at the thought that his son could yet return from the brink of death. "Estel!" He called over and over, pleading with him to listen to him and return to the light. Soon, Elrohir and Elladan joined him in his pleas. The small camp became still as death itself as everyone present added their voices to the call.
**
Saruman watched King Thranduil as he cradled his youngest son. This was puzzling. When Thranduil had shrugged away his words of caution and declared that Saruman could not know how he felt because he was not an elf, Saruman had silently agreed. He could never understand the Sea Longing, and would never gainsay an elf on how it felt. If Thranduil were so set on finding his son and passing on the Kingship, he would not hinder him. Now, however, he began to wonder if he hadn't misread the situation.
Thranduil had found his eldest and yet had held out against the pain of his Longing. The King had not even mentioned it to his eldest, and, when his youngest, looking more dead than alive, had appeared, he had raced to Legolas' side.
This was unexpected indeed. Had he misjudged? Had Thranduil's concern for his sons not had anything to do with the Sea Longing? He could not believe that he could be so mistaken. It could not be so! What excuse then? What kept Thranduil from explaining to Agalrelen that he would be leaving Middle-earth?
Realization hit him. It must be concern for Aglarelen who seemed distraught to the point of embarrassment over the fate of the young one. Perhaps Thranduil believed his eldest would not be ready to take the Kingship if something happened to his brother.
He thought this over for some time, but could not give the thought much credence. He would have to watch and wait. He stood by his horse, close enough to hear what the elven healers said, yet far enough away to observe everyone in the small camp.
He was so lost in thought that he did not notice Gandalf's approach until the Grey Wizard spoke.
"We may yet need your help, Saruman. Some strange magic is at work here, and I find myself nearly spent with the effort of countering it." Gandalf leaned heavily upon his staff seeming like the old man dependent upon a walking stick that he so often feigned to be.
Saruman nodded, giving his underling hardly a glance. "I thought as much when I rode out to meet Thranduil. Tell me what you saw."
The White Wizard had no need of the Grey's interpretation of events, but it would give him some clue as to how he should play this game. Gandalf's words were slow and measured and not delivered with the frantic panic Saruman had heard in the Crown Prince's voice. He waited until Gandalf had drawn his own conclusions about what had happened and why before nodding sagely as if considering the words.
"It seems likely that the Ithryn Luin fell under some spell of the Dark Lord. Perhaps they meant to impress him with their power, or perhaps they were ordered to do as they had done. With both dead, it is unlikely we will ever know." He kept his gaze on the small knot of elves who still worked to revive Legolas and Estel.
Gandalf nodded. "I fear you are right, Saruman, but there is more here than simple injury." He nodded toward Legolas. "He has been touched by some evil intent and his elven nature has been stripped from him."
Saruman turned as if shocked by such news. "That is powerful magic indeed. I had not thought Alatar and Pallando capable of such a thing."
Gandalf nodded as though distracted. "No. Nor had I."
Saruman knew he had to tread carefully. Gandalf was not as clever as he, but the Grey Wizard could sometimes make astounding leaps of logic and decipher the most difficult knots of reasoning until he laid bare the answers he needed. "The human?" Saruman asked, shifting the topic of conversation so that he might still hide his involvement in the elf prince's affliction. "He has some head wound?"
Gandalf nodded and his eyes took on a sorrowful cast. "He does. I don't know precisely when or how he came by that, but it is bad."
Saruman nodded. "Perhaps you and I can help." The White Wizard led Gandalf back towards the prone form of the dying man. He could not determine if this Ranger was indeed the Heir of Isildur, but he could find a way to end his life.
To Be Continued
Joee1: Thank you! I'd like to accept this award on behalf of all fanfic writers who try desperately to keep their readers happy with quick updates. I couldn't have done it without each and every one of your reviews, and especially the ever-growing crowd camped on my doorstep! Hey guys! The snow finally melted! (Ecri eyes trophy, which is much taller than she is. Umcan Aragorn and Legolas give me a hand getting this inside?)
AM: Thanks! I find it easier to write this way. I just keep thinking I'm forgetting someone so I have to do more rereading this way, but it works! I'm glad you like it!
Silvertoekee: You're welcome. I'm going to try to keep the updates coming really quickly this week. It feels like the story might be winding down, and I'm giving my muse free reign to run where she will with it. I'm beginning to feel sorry for Legolas and Aragorn. My next story, I'm going to have to be nicer to them or they won't come out and play anymore!
Catherinexxix: Thank you! You know, I was I a bit intimidated to try to write Celeborn and Galadriel, but the more I write, the more I like them. Plus, I'm getting some positive feedback about them, so that's always a good thing! I'm glad you like them and Gandalf. I knowanother update! LOL! I'll keep them coming!
Deana: Hee! Sorry! More Leggy soon. I love both Legolas and Aragorn, and I don't want either of them to die, either!
Gwyn: Plenty more Elf angst to come. (I adore elf angst!) Next update soon!
Alexa: OkayI'll try to keep them coming quickly.
Anonymous: Thanks!
Isadora2: Thanks! I know! It's almost writing itself. (Almostif it were I imagine I'd have posted a lot more by now!) I'm glad you're enjoying it!
Mcat: I stand corrected! More Legolas painyou don't think he's suffered enough? I was beginning to think I should ease up on the elf
Elven Kitten: Don't worry. Your Ranger is in good hands!
Templa Otema: Thank you! I'm blushing! I've mentioned before, but will again, I like the technique a lot. I just have to be careful about being over-repetitive. Otherwise, it's a lot of fun. I'm thrilled you liked the line about Legolas' battered and bruised fëa. Alatar's taunts were one way he was trying to maintain his control over Legolas, and I thought Legolas might be too concerned about the others whom he might hurt to be concerned about being called names by a bodiless Wizard. I love your interpretation of Saruman's character and your appreciation of what I'm doing with him. BTW, 2:00 in the morning is the best time for realizations, introspection, and philosophy!) Wow! I love it when people quote me back to me! That line about Legolas being the reason most of his family stayed in Middle-earth was a device of mine that I hoped would accentuate the familial relationship of these elves. We get so little about Legolas' background in the LOTR text, that I felt as though it would be all right for me to create a closeness different than that of Elrond to his children, yet with all the depth of love elves are meant to have for their offspring. Their children mean everything to them, and while having four children is unusual for an elf, I assumed that with the proximity of Dol Guldur, the growing shadow, and the threats of Mirkwood, Thranduil and his wife might have had more children. (Like they say people in certain areas of the world and especially in the not-too-distant past used to have as many children as they could because there was such a good chance that some of them would not live to adulthood. Just my spin on things.) Celeborn and Galadriel are becoming more and more a joy to write. I love elves.
Grumpy: I'm begging the other characters to come through for the elves, not-elf, and the Ranger. With any luck someone will come through for me!
Strider's Girl: Sequel? Gee, I hadn't thought about that! If you like Aglarelen, you can read more about him and his relationship with Legolas in my fic Undying Lands. Just ignore some of the elvish as it is hideously wrong and I really need to fix it. Still, the poor elvish shouldn't detract too much from the story as long as you have an open mind. StillI guess I can come up with a sequelthough I do already have several other fic ideas I need to get to, plus my poor little POTC fic is waiting patiently to be finished!
White Wolf1: The speed of that last update took me by surprise, too. I've never written anything so quickly! You're welcome for the plug for your story. I really am enjoying it, and I'm dying for your next update. (Is that too subtle a hint? LOL!) The hardest thing I'm finding in writing Saruman is not giving too much away. It's desperately hard to avoid the temptation to allow one of these wise and wonderful characters to see through him! I can't go too far out of canon, though. I mean this might be considered slight AU, but I'd like it to be recognizable as Tolkien's world! Ah, the good Thranduil! I do so like that elf. He's not evil, no matter how so many fanfic authors choose to write him! I love him! Saving everyonewell, I don't know when that's gonna happen. It's up to my muse you see, and she ain't tellin'!
Sirithiliel, Jacklyn, leggylover03: Thanks! I'll update soon!
Tychen: I'm glad you were able to commandeer a laptop in order to read the chapter! I'm thrilled you liked it. I love writing the dynamic between Thranduil, Aglarelen, and Legolas. I'll update soon!
Cosmic Castaway: Ouch! Well, gee, I don't know how fast I can write with a concussion, but I'll see what I can do!
Chloe Amethyst: Thanks! Celeborn can be persuasive, but there's plenty more of Glorfindel coming up. I was a little vague with Legolas' injury because I wasn't sure at first how serious it should be. Then I figured he wouldn't do anything by halfs, so it had better be pretty bad. I should go back and clear that up, but Cosmic Castaway might kill me if I backtrack too much! Yes, Saruman isn't as wise as he thinks he is, which will ultimately be the beginning of the end for him. He's got a Superior view of himself.