A/N: Sorry this update is late. The network wouldn't let me log on. Poll: Would you rather longer chapters and less frequent updates, or chapters of this length with regular updates? REVIEW! Thanks:-)
Chapter Four- Dark Meetings
They did not know for how long they had been there, huddled against one another against the impenetrable murk. The passage of time was marked by the routine arrival of barely edible food and stale water shoved through the black iron bars of their cage, made palatable only by desperation.
Screams, terrified, hideous beyond all reason and comprehension, would awaken them from what little rest they could find. The young twins would press closer to their mother's awkward bulk in a futile attempt to block the soul-shattering howls, so full of pain, broken beyond all recognition, from their sensitive ears. Elladan's small body trembled as Elrohir looked on, dark eyes wide as those of a deer caught in a trap.
Yet they held on to life's frail thread, finding solace in the lilting silvered voice of Lothlorien's eldest daughter. She would sing to her raven haired children of the shining light of Anor, of the pale luminescence of Ithil; of the green grass and the wind's song through the eaves of spring trees, of her joy in the past and her hope for the future. She sang to her unborn child, telling he or she of the world beyond dank stone, magnificence unparalleled outside the bounds of shadows and darkness. She wove tales spun of the fragile gossamer strands between light and dark, ancient battles of the Eldar pitted against Evil and themselves, of Glorfindel of Gondolin and how he had slain the Balrog of Morgoth, of Earendil the Mariner their grandfather, and their adar's own twin Elros who had long ago chosen to tread upon the lonely path of mortality.
They listened, no more than the frightened elflings they were, resting their dark heads against her swollen stomach for comfort. But there was courage to be found lingering in the grey depths of their wide eyes, a fire that would not be quenched no matter the situation. And so they remained, clinging to the promise of light once more.
Five times had they been given the near-inedible food and drink when the door of their cell swung open upon its rusted, grime filled hinges with an ear-splitting groan of protest, as if it too abhorred this place. Celebrìan gathered her two children to her, sure that their captors had come to complete their loathsome task. She despaired. Her children had not yet begun to live. The young one in her womb had not even the opportunity to breathe its first. Her adar and naneth would be devastated, but they had Lìranar to pull them through their grief.
Elrond, though….
Her poor husband would not long survive the loss of his family.
It was to her astonishment when, instead of finding themselves upon the sharp end of a blade, two figures, distorted and grotesque as only orcs could be, entered with their shuffling gait, dragging behind them two golden haired bodies.
The smaller being was tossed in like so much refuse, tumbling until it came to a halt before where they were huddled, a frail, unmoving bundle in the center of the floor. The larger of the two they cruelly chained by the neck, wrists, and ankles to the far wall before letting it drop into a graceless, boneless heap. A snarl was aimed towards the three Imladris Eldar, the foul orc baring rotten and yellowed teeth before they exited, their shambling steps echoing through the darkened corridors.
Yet before their captors were out of the hearing range of their Elven ears, the Noldor twins had crept forward to investigate the unmoving pile of cloth and limbs. Even such blatant darkness and evil could not stem the curiosity from the precocious elflings' young minds.
She joined them, crawling on hands and knees upon the floor, covered with what she didn't to think about. The twins were already curiously prodding the still form. She gently brushed back the tangled fall of golden hair, revealing the pale, delicate face of an elfling even younger than her own. A Silva, she thought with consternation, before roughly shoving those thoughts aside. This was not the time to bring up long standing prejudices. But what interested her was his coloring. It was not dark, as Wood Elves were wont to be. Rather, it was the radiant color of her own Sindar ancestry. A half-blood, then. Interesting.
She was startled out of her reverie by Elladan's soft voice. "Nana, he's no older than us. What do they want with him?"
"I know not, penneth," she murmured, softly stroking the silken hair once more. "But we should check for any injuries. Do you remember what your ada told you about healing?" Elladan nodded his acquiescence. "I want you to hold his head in your lap. Elrohir, it is rude to stare as you have been. Go fetch the rest of the water." With that she turned her compassionate ministrations upon the young Silva before her. Running her fine-boned hands upon his lithe body, she found no swelling nor any broken bones. The worst was a few bruises and scrapes.
"Naneth!" Elladan hissed, lifting the sun-bright hair from the elfling's neck. A fiery red, oozing sore contasted starkly with the bleached skin. Ripping a piece of fabric from the sleeve of her now tattered and threadbare dress, she tenderly dabbed at it with the water Elrohir had brought over, binding the wound with another, cleaner strip of linen. It appeared as if the young Elf had been struck by a poisoned dart, which would account for his unconscious state. Only time would tell if it was fatal or not. She doubted it, though. Too many risks had been taken to capture them. If they had not died by now, then there was little chance that their captors would allow them to before their purpose, however dark, was fulfilled.
It was Elrohir who breached the silence that had been built as she tended their young companion. "Nana, is he from Lothlorien? He seems different from the Galadhrim."
"Indeed not. He appears to be a Silva, from Greenwood."
Elladan's eyes widened at that pronouncement. "But everyone says that the Silvan are bad."
"Not bad. They do not follow the dark, so they cannot be wholly evil. They are different from us. We do not understand them, and what we do not understand we fear."
Elrohir's dark eyes flashed as his temper flared. "Ada is never afraid!"
She smiled, pulling her child against her. "He always fears, ion nin. He fears for you and me and the new baby, because he loves all of us. So you have to be brave for him. Show him that you have courage, even when everything is dark."
Elrohir curled closer to his mother. "I promise, nana. I won't be afraid." Elladan made a face at his brother. "Well, maybe just a little."
Their moment was interrupted by the stirring of the larger Silvan Elf. A low moan and the rattling of iron manacles heralded his imminent awakening. The Lady of Imladris kept a firm hand upon the slim shoulders of both of her sons as the Elf's emerald eyes, clouded by foreign substances in his body system, slowly peeked from beneath dark lashes.
"Legolas." The quiet word was uttered somewhere between a whisper and a desperate plea. He raised his golden head, a few shades darker than the young elfling's, before sinking back and clutching at the throbbing appendage with another groan.
Celebrìan rose, using the dank walls to support her awkward frame. The Silvan Elf looked up as she approached with a wet strip of cloth, his body tensing with the encroaching proximity of an unidentified person. It did not pass unnoticed by her keen grey eyes. She pressed a slender hand against his sweat laden, fevered forehead, imparting cool serenity and peace into his chaotic mind. His eyes focused upon her, shining like Anor against a darkened backdrop. He felt new strength course through his veins, enough to straighten on his own power. His gaze bore into her own steel rimmed one, unknowingly allowing her access into the depths of his mind.
She saw this strong, proud warrior for who he truly was. Memories engulfed her, at once comforting and frightening. Laughter and green sunlight filtering through the eaves, to swiftly be replaced by black slopes sown with the bodies and blood of his own kin. Sorrow, unadulterated and unquenched, filled his very being, to be lightened by the joy of new life. Through all there were two figures, one dark, filled with compassion and the cool, soothing essence of the forest; the other commanding and blazing with a fierce spangle of golden fire.
"Child of Thranduil, I shall not harm you." The voice within him, gentle as the underside of a new life, powerful as the breath of a dragon, came from the radiant she-Elf standing before him. Her grey eyes, shining with starlight and wisdom, promised no evil as long as she drew breath. Stricken, he hung suspended by chains of iron and Time, captured by her ethereal beauty.
The cold metallic tinge of reality pressing against his wrists and neck rudely jerked him to the present. Remembrance engulfed him, a wave of fear.
"Legolas? Gwador nìn, mas bant? Man le? Le sì am man theled?" His frantic mind raced with the thought that perhaps his beloved youngest brother was dead. A Valar, I have failed. I swore to naneth that I would protect him, and I have failed.
The sword-sharp eyes of the golden woman softened as she reached out to calm him, stoking his head gently as before. Her melodious voice flowed over him, soothing wounds both physical and emotional. "Worry not, ernil nìn. Your brother fares no worse than you." It was then that she moved her swollen frame, allowing him to glimpse fair hair and a pale face.
Panic once more overcame him. "Legolas!" He threw himself against the chains which bound him, indifferent to the fact that the rough iron was bruising and chafing his delicate skin.
A groan elicited from the younger Elf, his head still cradled in Elladan's lap. "Ôlvaethor," he murmured thickly. Crystalline blue eyes flashed from beneath dark lashes.
The elder prince regained control of himself. It was as if he were another person, so absolute was the change from desperate prisoner to stalwart prince. "Be not afraid, lass dithen. I am here for you."
A scuffle broke out amongst the three elflings as Legolas grew conscious.
"Õlvaethor, where are you? Let me go!" His battling grew more vicious. The lady could see Elladan trembling from the effort of containing the Silva and Elrohir growing frustrated by their patient's lack of cooperation.
"Sidh." The one word, enforced by a touch of power, was enough to calm the heated conflict and bring both drug-clouded Elves to full awareness. "You shall not be harmed," she repeated once more. "Courage is needed to see us through the dark. Stay strong, and we shall prevail."
They slept through the period between the scant scraps of food and drink, Noldor and Silvan supporting each other as had not been seen in ages. The elflings were young enough, and frightened enough, to breach any barriers that might have arisen earlier. The two elder Elves, out of respect and knowledge that they could not survive alone, banded together. They had earlier talked of their situation. The Greenwood warrior was angered to behold the treatment the Elven woman had endured in her condition as Legolas watched with intense blue eyes, cautious and reserved of these sundered kin.
Fresh peals of despair and agony woke them, causing Legolas to straighten with a cry and Ôlvaethor to grope for weapons no longer situated on his person. Tremors passed through the group.
Celebrìan swiftly thought of a way to distract the young ones from the horrifying howls echoing in the bowls of the earth. "Ernil tithen, would you tell us of Greenwood? We have never had the pleasure of traveling there, and I am sure that Elladan and Elrohir would hear of it."
The young Silva's face had at first been lit with distrust, pale and streaked with grime. Yet as he recounted the memories of his home it fell into a dreamlike quality, enraptured as the two dark Noldor twins on either side of him.
"…and then Aerlind fell out of the tree and onto adar as he was giving his speech for the Autumn Festival, yet it truly wasn't my fault because Sùlaur had given me a goblet of Dorwinion wine and I had never tried any before! Naneth was furious, and adar was ready to banish him, but…"
His soft voice was abruptly cut off by the harsh opening of the cell door once more. There was not even time to react before a small body was thrown in. The bars clanged loudly as it was violently shut, leaving the pale body upon the ground.
The size of the figure, the moon-silver hair, and the dark blue eyes beginning to open, along with the astonishing swear words that delighted the three male elflings, alerted Celebrìan to who it was.
"Lìranar, do not use such language."
The youngest daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn stared with wide eyes at her older sister. "Celebrìan! Elladan. Elrohir." She flung herself at the familiar faces, clutching desperately at anything to give her reassurance. Her gaze narrowed as it alighted upon the two others, and the pointed chin jutted out in challenge. "And two Silvan Elves. What do they want with us?"
A voice, shadowed, the absence of light, spoke from the impenetrable gloom outside of their cage. "Why, you are my guests, little lady."
Gwador nìn, mas bant? Man le? Le sì am man theled?- My brother, where did he go? Who are you? Why are you here?
Ernil dithen- little prince
Lass dithen- little leaf
Sidh- peace
In other words, I will not be able to post for a little while. Classes are crazy, so the first week of May is when you should look for another post.
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