Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR.
Rating: PG – 13
Author's Note: Many thanks to Yavieriel Tarandir, who reviewed Tears of Yesterday! Your words give me much encouragement and blushes ;) I am glad to see that you share some tendencies with me – I, like you, have no interest in people of the opposite gender and have been similarly labeled. Don't you just love it when people label you for not conforming? Haha. I like being deviant anyways. Thank you very much for the beautiful review!
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by Kasmi Kassim
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From Twilight to Dawn
Chapter 11: Assassination and Chaos – and a Discovery
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The men watched nervously as the elves conversed among themselves. They were standing in a cluster, facing the equally numerous elves who stood with their backs against the wall. They had found the Silvan elves – at least, they hoped they were Silvan – as directed by their elven captive. And now that they were alone in one of the guest chambers, the unsuspecting elves did not frighten them as much as they had at first.
"We know that your king is of Sindarin descent," said a young man, who had appointed himself as their spokesperson, as the elves discussed the gravity of the words that had just passed between them. "Why not take back what was rightfully yours? He had invaded your realm and established a monarchy, telling you what to do and how to do it, and you let him rule over you."
The blond elf in the center of the elven cluster turned his head and rapidly spoke to his companions, obviously translating. The other elves watched the men, eyes darkening. One of them hissed at the interpreting elf, and the blond elf shrugged. A chestnut-haired elf crossed his arms and mumbled. A dark-haired elf turned her eyes sharply toward the men and whispered softly. The blond elf in the center turned back to the men.
"What do you seek?" The tone was measured, calm.
The young man took a deep breath. "We can help you rid of your king. We can offer you the alliance of our human kingdom."
They were exiles, yes – but no need to tell them that.
The elf cocked his head. "Where does your kingdom lie?"
"It is hidden." The man glanced at his companions. "No one finds it unless we wish them to."
The elf in the center turned back to his companions and rapidly began to translate. Several elves raised their eyebrows, and stared at the men. More rapid discussions ensued.
"We can rule in brotherhood," added the human hastily, feeling a strange sense of urgency. "We will join forces and drive out the monarch, and rule the land side by side."
The dark-haired elf in the corner tilted her head. Smooth elven words slid from her lips in a slow, measured pace. Her eyes swept over her companions. They nodded.
The blond elf turned back to the humans. The men swallowed. They could feel the vibrations of resolution in the room. The elves had come to a decision.
"We shall be honest with you," began the blond elf, eying each of the men with calm. "If we take you to our king, he will grant you pardon and release, albeit banishment. But we would rather not disturb him, for his heart ails with many troubles. We would ask you to take leave of us quickly, ere we act upon our wrath."
The men froze.
The elves studied them quietly, unmoving. A heavy silence descended.
"But-" stuttered one of the men, "-why do you…when we are offering…" he trailed with uncertainty, glancing from one elf to the next.
The dark-haired elf brushed back a stray strand of her hair. "The Sindarin and Silvan elves live in harmony." The men jolted, staring at the unexpected flow of Westron from this elleth. Her speech was laid with a light accent, but nonetheless fluent. "All elves are kin."
An auburn-haired elf at the back lazily crossed his arms. "It was an unwise attempt in your part, good lords, to attempt to stir an uprising against our king."
A bearded man from the corner growled in fury. "Why?" he demanded, his eyes scanning the motionless band of elves. "Why do you insist on deference to your ruler?"
Their king had banished their families, and had sentenced them, in their young age, to a life of loneliness and hunger. Their king was the one who had doomed them to lifelong misery. Kings had absolute control. And no one could question them.
Why were the elves so blind? So submissive?
The dark-haired elf blinked. She frowned slightly, as if confused by their question. "Because," she replied, "we love our king."
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Legolas' skin was cold with sweat as he watched Gama uncork the wine. Was the wine poisoned? He did not know. But now was the time to take action; he could not risk his father's life in exchange for his own. He could reach out and spill the bottle onto the floor. That would surely raise a clamor, however, and his life would end instantly at Gama's knife.
As Gama held out the wine bottle toward the king's goblet, elegant hands emerged from underneath the folds of the heavy cloak, gently grasping the bottle from the man's hands. Gama's eyes hardened; the cloaked figure seemed to pay no heed, and proceeded to gracefully pour the wine into the king's goblet. The elven king watched with a serene smile, a courteous word of thanks lingering upon his lips as the cloaked figure finished pouring the wine.
The slender youth took a silent inhalation of breath as a brutal grip dug the blade deeper into his skin underneath the cloak, and yet he calmly took out a small pouch from underneath his garment and opened it. The men's eyes widened in panic. Gama's blade pierced the youth's skin. The youth quietly sprinkled a shimmering white powder into the wine, and blew on it, and held it out demurely toward the king. The king bowed and took the goblet.
"A traditional recipe that goes with our wine," explained Gama, a forceful smile upon his lips. His voice was hard, face lined with rigid crevices. Warm blood trickled down from the elf's side; he could feel his grip slipping. The elf did not flinch.
The king smiled, and gracefully brought the wine closer to himself. He then raised the goblet. "Let us raise a toast for the future prosperity of trade between elves and men."
Before the men could protest, the king's hands were already pouring the wine into Gama's goblet. The man paled; the knife dug itself deeper into the elf's side. The slender body was tensing.
Legolas could barely think coherently; he could feel strength escaping him as blood trailed down his body, concealed by the heavy cloak. His head felt light. He could barely breathe due to the man's painful grip around his waist, and in his exhausted state, he could barely raise his voice, let alone struggle free. He wondered if he would collapse before his father did. He could only pray that his emergency ration of antidote had been enough to counteract whatever poison had been in that wine.
"My greatest thanks, my lord," said Gama, smiling with difficulty. "I fear that our men are unused to wine, however. We get terribly sick."
The king creased his brows in concern. "What a pity," he said worriedly, glancing down at the goblet. "I cannot indulge myself to drinking when my guests cannot. We will then settle for water." He placed the goblet some distance away from himself, and reached for the bowl of water that rested on his side.
"To the peace of elves and men." He raised the bowl.
The others followed the example and raised their own bowls, visibly relieved.
Legolas swallowed convulsively. His mouth felt dry. He could no longer feel the blade as it was buried in his flesh; his senses were numb. His vision was blurring. The throbbing pain was acute, but was clouded by his panicked concentration on his father.
"Try the wine, my lord," urged Gama, squeezing Legolas' waist. "My wife poured it especially for you."
The king once again let surface a placid smile, reaching for the goblet. He raised the goblet to his lips. As his vision blurred and the world began to roll and spin faster and faster, Legolas faintly watched his father swallow the drink, horror rendering his heart slower and slower-
"Ah, by the way."
The king lowered the goblet with a slight frown. "One of my guards sighted a band of half-dressed men in the forest. Do you happen to know of this?"
Gama's grip on the knife tensed. Legolas jerked slightly, but his movement only caused the man to intensify his possessive grasp. The knife dug deeper into his tender flesh. The young elf bit back a cry. His throat was hoarse.
"No, my lord," answered the man with ease, a satisfied smile appearing at his lips.
The king stared down at the table, his lips murmuring an answer. His glittering eyes began to glaze. The men around the table began to smile. Gama threw a smile in Legolas' direction, only now realizing that the elf was only helping him assassinate the king.
Legolas fought back the urge to close his eyes and collapse. Though he had used plenty of trickery in his part of the bargain, the man also seemed intent on not following his part of the pact as well. Judging by the way he was holding Legolas, he either planned on keeping him captive, or killing him at the spot. Legolas had hoped that he would find an opening at the face of the king, but no such luck. He had been too late. And now, he was helpless. If he rose to his feet or raised a shout, he would be instantly dead, if Gama decided not to kill his father first. In his mind swirled fervent prayers to the Valar, begging for his father's life, begging that his father be strong enough to fight the poison with the aid of the miniscule antidote.
The young elf labored to breathe. His father was motionless; bright tresses slid down his shoulders and spilled onto the tabletop, and his body relaxed until the golden head gently rested against the table.
The men quickly glanced around. The stature-like sentries were beginning to look in their direction, curiosity piqued by the silence. There was not much time.
I should have warned him.
Legolas wanted to scream.
I should have warned him even if it cost me my life.
Was it too late?
The young elf breathed painfully, struggling against Gama's tight grip; he prepared himself to use the last of his energy to break away, when he was startled by a crash.
The men and the elf turned, alarmed, as the grand doors to the hall swung open. A pile of green and brown rushed in, and instantly, the hall was in an uproar.
Elves. Elves were tackling the men, fighting, subduing, shackling. They were as swift as they were deadly. The men did not have a chance to survey their surroundings before they were attacked and rendered immobile, struggling in dumfounded futility.
Grabbing his weakened captive, Gama flew onto the other side of the table, placing himself behind the stilled form of the king. He threw back the hood of his hostage, and roughly pushed aside the fabric of the cloak to reveal the knife that was digging into his side. "Stay back!" he shouted.
The commotion in the dining hall instantly froze. Gama looked around, panting, knife pressing deeper into the motionless elf's side. The armed elves in the hall were staring in silence. The humans were all subdued and held in shackles.
"Stay back, or else..." Gama trailed off, realizing only then that the elf he held was a banished criminal. With a quick curse, he drew back the knife and thrust the young elf aside. As the youth tumbled into a bloody heap on the floor, gasping for breath, Gama rushed to the king, who was slumped peacefully upon the table.
"Move a step and the king is dead," he growled, bringing his knife close to the king's throat. The hall was heavy with silent tension.
Breathing fast, glittering eyes looking around wildly, Gama's mind reeled. What had gone wrong? Had his companions failed to persuade the elves to rebel? Had his plan been too ambitious?
He gripped the elven king's hair viciously, cursing as the soft tresses slipped through his fingers. The knife glistened menacingly against the king's throat.
"Ada!"
The feeble cry resounded from behind before a flash of green rushed past his sight. Gritting his teeth, Gama hissed, struggling against the arms that threatened to wrestle the knife out of his hand. Angry eyes turned toward desperate blue ones. So the elf was a liar after all. He was surprised to find that the injured youth was stronger than he looked.
Even so, blood was flowing steadily from his side. With a painful gasp, the elf was pushed aside. Gama grabbed his arm and held up the knife to his throat.
"You first," he snarled, tightening his hold when the young elf feebly attempted to free himself. The blade glistened pale in the light.
The hand came down. And then, another hand shot up.
The man's body was easily and ruthlessly slammed onto the table as the king rose, his hand holding down the man's hand that held the knife. Gama struggled against the grip, but the strength of the beautiful monarch was deadly. The man was bent over onto the table, gasping against the tablecloth, as the elven king held him down with one hand, his face expressionless. The king blinked, clearing the haze from his eyes.
"Almost like the odd mixtures my elfling made when he was small," he murmured, turning to face the round eyes of the younger elf. When his eyes took in the bruises and the blood that marred the stunned youth, his face finally took on an expression. Seeing the transformation take place, the elves in the hall took a step back, petrified.
Gama's vision was blinded by hot pain when the grip on his arm twirled, resounding in a heavy crack behind his back. He screamed.
Thrashing wildly about, he was suddenly released, and he jumped off of the table, backing away in panic into the arms of the elves. He was pushed onto his knees, and before he realized it, heavy shackles locked his broken arm and wobbly legs.
The king ambled toward his direction, gradually flexing his fingers. His long, elegant fingers were slowly curling and uncurling in a sinister motion that prophesized doom.
"So tell me, my lord merchant," said the king in a low voice, leaning in close, "or should I say, thief in a merchant's disguise?" Slender fingers curved around Gama's chin and lifted his face to meet ice blue eyes. Gama swallowed. The king tilted his head.
"Give me a reason," said the king languorously, the alluring gaze of the lethargic, half-lidded eyes slithering around the man, tempting and deadly. "Give me a reason why I should not snap your neck next."
Sputtering, Gama drew back. But the slender fingers were excruciatingly strong, painful. Tears of pain and misery escaped his eyes. "You – you killed them all!" he choked.
The king did not respond. He remained still, his eyes locked on the sobbing man. Then, he calmly released his chin, leaving him space to breathe. Gama bent forward, taking ragged gasps. The king straightened his back and looked down with impassive eyes. Silent tension was taut in the air.
"Would you continue, my lord thief-merchant?" he said, the suave voice unhurried. Gama glared up with burning hatred in his eyes.
"You killed them all! You massacred my people! All of them! They were already banished from home! And you killed them! You killed them!"
The light in the king's eyes shifted. Gama sucked in his breath. The icy fire that burned in the elf's eyes was beyond comprehension. Beyond fear. Gama found himself unable to move. It was as if he were locked in a trance.
Slowly, the king tilted his head. "I see." Whirling around, he turned to face the elves who watched. "Throw them outside," he ordered.
In an instant, the humans were dragged out of the hall. Many elves remained to clean the disarray caused by the ambush. One elf approached the king with apprehension lining his brows.
"Should we not put them in the dungeons?" he asked, eyes urgent. "They deserve so much more, considering what they have done." His gaze flitted toward the bloody body of the prince. Legolas blinked back.
The king shook his head. "Make sure they never set foot in here again."
He glanced back at his wide-eyed child. And then he turned, his robes swirling and sweeping up the silent air of the hall, and began toward the door.
"Wait."
The king's heart clenched upon the young voice. He halted, and turned slowly, watching his son step forth, clutching his side. Legolas' eyes were sharp.
"Father, why do you chase them away?"
Do not turn away from me.
Thranduil creased his brows. "You must go to a healer quickly, Legolas. Follow me." He turned once again toward the great doors.
"Is it true, then, what they say?"
The cold voice cut into the spacious air. The elves stilled into silence.
Tell me that they lie. Tell me that you did no such thing.
Slowly, Thranduil turned back around, and faced his son. His face was impassive. The adolescent elf was staring at him with accusations, disbelief written in his eyes. The king did not move. He did not speak.
Why do you not deny it, Father?
Legolas' face slowly contorted into a mask of dread and denial. His features stiffened until they seemed frozen in the tension of the air. And his father remained silent.
Tell me that you are innocent...!
A flickering fire of fear and despair danced in the youth's eyes. The silence was leaden.
Anything. He would do anything at all to keep his son from knowing. To maintain the veil over the truth. But the veil was fast wearing thin.
The king closed his eyes.
So.
The time has come for the truth.
He could not hide it forever. It was too late now. And his son was no fool.
He could have laughed. He could have wept. But he did neither.
So much for a long-awaited reunion.
"Legolas, come with me to the healing wing."
"Did you massacre the human settlement?"
Fire burned in the youth's eyes.
Would he lie to his child? Secrets, yes, he could keep them – but would he face him, and blatantly lie?
His son wanted him to. Valar, his son would have taken a lie if it was the answer he wanted. Thranduil took a deep breath, and wordlessly disappeared out the door.
The elves watched the prince in taut anticipation. Legolas stood still, as if turned to stone. And then, in a blur of green and red, he swiftly whipped out of the hall.
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To Be Continued
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Unsung Heroine: Yes, your wish is my command...most of the time. ;)
Brazgirl: I had hoped that you would be find my featuring of Thranduil to your liking! Hahaha. I hope the future chapters keep your interest piqued. Thanks for reviewing!
K'lara7: You think so? Hehe. I'm glad you liked my descriptions. Thank you!
elvingirl3737: Yes, I love my Thranduil, can you tell? ;) I'm glad you liked my details! Thank you!
Templa Otmena: Oh, I did have a lovely time writing Legolas' insight and reminiscence. I'm glad you had a good time reading it! And isn't it fun to create your own little world of elves? Hoho, I am having fun writing about the elves in Mirkwood – as I seldom have a chance to really go in depth with them! And as always, I am excited to see you reading into themes in my story...;) And as for the yet-to-be-told history of Thranduil and the men...hehe. Sooh, my dear, soon...Anyway, you may be going onto a university, my dear? Congratulations! Thank you for your lovely reviews!
Rede: Oh, I do love leaving my readers hanging. (cackles) I'm glad you liked my Thranduil! Thank you!
Lyn: Whoa, that startled me. I knew that medically I was being incorrect, but I had hoped to slip past scrutinizing eyes by skipping the actual detail of the scene – but I suppose I am now caught red-handed! Hahaha. Thank you! Glad to hear from you!
Beling: My dear, the real eloquence and beauty is flowing in your review. Wow! And thank you for describing what you felt while reading the chapter; your description captivated me! Beautiful!
