Sorry, the first time I posted this, the editor thingy didn't seem to work. I had everything corrected, I swear! Oh, well...

Anywho, I'm sorry it took me so long to post. Between school, work, the occasional marching band event, and shows, I've not had too much time to my name. I'll try to do better!

The Dark Star
Part Thirteen
Lost

Upon opening her eyes, Adariel wondered if she truly had opened them. After a moment, however, her eyes adjusted to the pitch black darkness that surrounded her, and she took in her environment. Or, at least, she have her best attempt to do so through the pounding in her head that threatened to split the afflicted part in two.

One side affect, she thought wryly, of the sedative fusion: severe headache. She frowned; perhaps her headache hadn't been caused by the fusion. Perhaps whoever had taken her - and she had a general idea of who it was - had bashed her head a few times. Whatever the cause, her head was enough to make her eyes prickle with tears of pain.

Her hands were bound tightly behind her back, and her ankles were tied as well. A gag - of what material, to her dismay, she could not discern - had been set in her mouth and tied at the back of her head, the cloth digging cruel at the corners of her mouth and pulling her lips into a repulsive parody of a grin.

Before her surroundings had truly registered, Adariel had thought herself in a cave, but after a moment it occurred to her that the tiny flickers of light above her were not imaginary or headache-induced, but were stars in truth. This also explained why she felt rough back, and not stone, digging into her back and chafing her arms and hands.

Her eyes slid closed against her splitting headache as she very, very gently leaned her head back and rested it against the tree trunk behind her. How, she couldn't help but wonder, was she going to get out of this? In the on potentially life-threatening situation she had been through in which she'd been this helpless, Nurardaion had come to her rescue. This time, however, she was alone.

How long had she been gone? Had anyone noticed? Did anyone care? She knew the answer to the last: Lord Elrond- Her father would care, as would Arwen. Elladan and Elrohir, as well. She smiled ever-so-slightly: Gil-luin would miss her.

Ironically, Adariel couldn't help but noticed how terribly inconvenient this whole affair was. She had things to do, and she most certainly could not do them while bound to a tree. It was unfortunate, really, that she could have been reconciling things between herself and Aradalien, or repaying Elrohir for throwing her into the water, or spending much-needed time with her horse. Gil-luin was the only sane being in existence, this she believed as a fact.

She could also have been deciding what to do about Haldir. However, she doubted that she would ever know what to do where the Marchwarden of Ló rien was involved. Indeed, she had well nigh resigned herself to a perpetual state of confusion where he was concerned.

The sound of footsteps coming toward her caused the thread of fear, which had laced through her with the realization of being tied and gagged, to intensify slightly, causing her to open her eyes and sit up a bit straighter. Glancing around, she could see the faint glowing of a light that approached from behind; within a moment, the light was suddenly in her sight and blinding her - she squeezed her eyes shut as paint shot through her already aching head. She heard something slightly on the heavy side hit the ground before the footsteps came closer and whoever it was knelt in front of her. This, of course, implied that she was to open her eyes.

If it was who she believed it to be, however, she very much wanted to keep her eyes closed.

"Come now, my lady," Dimalphion cajoled, confirming her fears. "Surely the light isn't that terrible."

He knew, she was sure, that it was 'that terrible.' Thus, the only thing that kept her from telling him exactly what she thought of him - in terms that were not exactly polite, nor ladylike - was the gag. To substitute, she gave him the most despising, loathsome glare she could summon.

Of course, the fear coursing through her veins was not at all helpful. At the sound of his voice, a slow terror had begun to rise. Constantly her mind drifted to the last time she had been alone and defenseless in this Elf's presence…

He smirked at her. "Be careful how you treat me, Morelen," he said, reaching toward her. She automatically stiffened at this, but he only untied the gag. "Or perhaps you failed to notice your new companion?"

Adariel looked over his shoulder and laid eyes on an unconscious form. It took her a moment to realize what - who - it was, but when she did, all of the blood drained from her face, making her seem very, very pale.

Noviel.

Six hours: the amount of time Celebnoviel had been missing.

Thirty-six hours: the amount of time Imladris had been in an uproar.

Two days: the amount of time Adariel had been missing.

Weeks untold: the amount of time Adariel had been driving him utterly mad.

When he had first met her, she had simply been a bit of an annoyance. Quickly that had faded - indeed, they had still been in Lothlórien at the time - and she became something that he could not seem to place. And, thanks to the incident that occurred just before she disappeared, he couldn't seem to place her now.

And the time between, during their friendship? After much consideration, Haldir had realized that he hadn't ever been able to truly place her even then.

Thus, the reason behind his partial insanity was, in a limited number of ways, his own fault - this he would freely admit. But, in most ways, Adariel was to blame. He had no notion as to how, or why, but he did know that it centered at her.

She was, after all, the reason he was out, for the fourth time in that day alone, searching. More accurately, searching for her.

Adariel's disappearance had impacted everyone, though some harder than others. The way each person handled the situation varied, as well: her sister, Aradalien, had remained in her chambers since the day of Adariel's vanishing, and had not emerged for even a moment since. Arwen had taken to alternatively sitting in the library in a lost daze and pacing the gardens, generally avoiding all but her father. Elrond commanded the search effort with a vengeance; when his mind was not absorbed in searching, however, he had taken to brooding. Elladan and Elrohir each released their anxiety in much the same way as Haldir himself: searching nearly incessantly, and with a nearly unhealthy obsession.

It was Orophin's reaction, however, that puzzled him the most. He, like so many others, plunged himself heroically into the search efforts. He had also taken to brooding, something which was supremely unlike him. His wallowing seemed, however, to be anger-spurned - more specifically, anger at himself, as well as anger with Haldir.

He only focused on his brother's odd behavior when his mind wasn't preoccupied with other things. This, unfortunately, was a rare occurrence: the search, Adariel, and attempting to deduce why they whole affair bothered him as much as it did. She was a dear friend, and thus the assumption that Adariel's disappearance would disturb him was a natural one. But the degree to which his anxiety extended, however, made the emotion something akin to outright panic at times. That in itself was bothersome.

During times when the search slowed, such as when many of the searchers stopped in order to allow the next shift in, Haldir had few other things to think of than his brother's strange anger. Given that anything else was centered at Adariel, and that those thoughts had the tendency to give him a headache, he more often than not found himself attempting to focus on his brother's attitude. This, however, was not an easy thing to do, and more often than not he fell to brooding. He knew that Adariel would never have allowed him to brood, and this knowledge did nothing to help matters.

Orophin's behavior, however, was a safe topic to think of, so long as he could keep his mind on it - despite the irony of the statement. His brother had not outright said anything to him, as of yet, but Haldir often found himself expecting his brother to launch himself at him.

This was, indeed, highly confusing. Though, it was, admittedly, a bit less puzzling than Adariel, whether or not she was actually present. At the very least, it wasn't confusing in the same manner. Why would Orophin be so angry him? After reviewing all of his most recent encounters with his brother, Haldir could find nothing that would cause a particular irritancy with him.

He did not, however, spare the time to ask Orophin what was bothering him. In fact, he hardly spared any time at all. Elves did not need sustenance so much as Men, and he could hardly sleep even when he tried, and so the majority of his time went to the search.

He had, essentially, become obsessed. Perhaps, on some level, he had realized it. Truthfully, however, Haldir was doing his best to not realize it. He had enough crowding his mind without an obsession. So many things had happened within the last two days… Most notably, he had kissed the most vexing - and, admittedly, baffling - Elf-maiden in the history of the world. Twice!

As was previously established, Adariel could be found at the center of nearly everything in his life.

For the moment, at least.

None of this was helped by Orophin's obvious irritation with him. It was truly irksome, enough so that Haldir had nearly pulled his younger sibling aside many times in order to demand an answer to his questions in a slightly-less-than-gentle manner. He had, however, thus far managed to quell the urge to bash his brother upside the head with a rather thick tree branch. In fact, he thoroughly ignored his irritation.

For he had realized part of the problem: emotions. He had let them get in the way over the past few weeks, something he had always strictly avoided before. Consequently, it was only logical that the chaos in his mind could at least partially be attributed to a sudden increase in visible emotion. Something which was directly linked to Adariel.

It always came back to her!

"Good evening, Marchwarden."

Haldir looked up to find Lord Elrond watching him impassively. The torrent that was his thoughts carefully tucked away, Haldir bowed respectfully as Elrond came forward. "Walk with me for a moment?"

"Of course," Haldir said quietly, falling instep beside the Lord of Rivendell.

There was silence for several moments before Elrond said, "There is something I must disclose to you that requires the utmost secrecy for the time being."

"'Twould be a shame, should something happen to her thanks to your lack of respect toward me, would it not?"

Adariel found that she was shaking, and that, while it was primarily caused by fear for her friend, it was not caused only by fear. "Leave her be," she said, her voice quiet and pitched lowly. "You posses that which you've sought, don't bring the innocent into the debate."

"Think logically, I beg you," he taunted, leering at her unbearably. "You involved the uninvolved, did you not?"

"What?"

"The marchwarden!" he snarled, suddenly violent. "You brought him here. You involved him!"

"I had no choice in the matter. He felt the need to defend me, and did so, and not by my word nor leave," Adariel retorted. She did not think it wise to add that she had hardly refused his help.

"And I am to trust this?"

"Do you truly think that I would lie to you when another's life was at stake?"

He looked at her, his gaze assessing, and she wanted to hide away. "No, I suppose not."

"You acknowledge it," she said, "and so you admit that your involvement of an innocent party was out of line."

"I never said this."

"You didn't have to." She leaned back onto the tree. "You have me. Do what you will. But do not involved anyone else."

He tilted his head. "This is true. Very well, I shall return her." He could not, of course, concede to her wishes entirely, and so added, "When I see fit." He walked forward, bearing a cloth. "Good night once more, my lady."

Realizing what was about to occur, Adariel pressed herself into the tree almost viciously. But there was no escaping Dimalphion, and soon she was unconscious once more.

"A secrecy which I, of course, shall maintain."

Elrond drew a deep breath, and then said, "I have more of an interest in the search than you may believe me to have. A very personal interest."

"If I may be so bold, I'm hardly surprised," Haldir admitted. "Lady Adariel often referred to you as a second father."

The Elf-lord's smile was slightly bitter. "Indeed? I hadn't realized. My concern, however, lies deeper than that. You see…" It was here that Elrond hesitated, and Haldir glanced at him, unsettled by his companion's hesitation; the lord Elrond was always sure of himself. A faltering moment was rare indeed. "I am her father."

Perhaps Haldir should have been shocked. In truth, however, he couldn't summon any real reaction: he was still absorbing the words. Fortunately, however, Elrond did not expect a reply.

"I am telling you this because I have seen the dedication which you have shown her as of late," he continued as Haldir struggled to keep up. "My own sons already know, and thus my request does not need to be voice to them. I wish I could tell them all, if only because that would result in a fiercer search. But I must respect Adariel's wishes. She asked for time, and I will give her time. But I cannot do nothing." Suddenly Elrond stopped and turned to face him. "Bring her back to me, Marchwarden," he said quietly. "Find my daughter."

Elrond was Adariel's father. Elrond. Adariel was, essentially, the Elven equivalent to a princess. The Undómiel and the Morelen. The Evenstar and the Darkstar. Adariel was Elrond's daughter.

Why had she never told him?

None of his thoughts, of course, were apparent when he nodded. Nor when he said, "I will find her."

Once again, pain was the first thing Adariel recognized when she awoke. Her head, however, was not the afflicted part: now it was her wrists. And shoulders. The entirety of both arms, for that matter. The next thing she realized was that her feet were not on solid ground. Adariel opened her eyes.

It was dawn, as the grayish-pinkish light indicated. The gag had been replaced, but her feet were untied. Her hands, however, were bound above her head, the rope looped over a branch, and her feet hung in open air.

She had been strung up in a tree. Trust Dimalphion to come up with such an idea.

The notion was so utterly ridiculous, despite its truth, that she began to giggle as she looked down, past a couple of branches, to the ground below. Her giggle grew to a laugh, and she was in hysterics by the time she realized that she was crying at the same time.

Adariel struggled to regain herself. She had to get out of that tree. There was simply no other option. After a careful survey of the ground, she knew that Noviel was gone, as was Dimalphion. She knew that she had to try now, or she would never have the opportunity again. She looked around, attempting to find something to help her.

There was a blade on the ground, its blade stuck into the ground so that it stood upright. That would have been a wonderful tool, should she have been able to get a hold of it. Unfortunately, it was roughly fifteen feet below her, and there was little else - she would have to rely on her own strength and wits to get out.

Then there isn't much hope in my situation, is there? she thought bitterly. After a swift review of her possible options, Adariel made her first move by swinging her legs up and, as soon as she had gained enough momentum, swung her legs up around the branch. She clenched her eyes shut as her arms screamed, but quickly forced herself back into action.

Adariel bit her lip as she slowly inched her way down the branch, toward the end of it. When she felt she was close enough, she did her best to grip the branch as she swung her legs out and hooked them over a nearby branch. The movement made something crack loudly, and she gasped softly and closed her eyes, waiting for the fall to come, or for someone to hear. Nothing fell, and no one came, friend nor foe, and so she breathed again.

Resting all of her weight on her knees, which were draped across another branch, Adariel struggled to keep her legs in place as she inched her bound wrists toward the end of the branch. The more she advanced, the harder it became, and soon she was stretched nearly as far as she could stretch, biting her lip fiercely as she fought to keep inching her hands forward.

Then came another snap, a violent burst of fear, and suddenly the branch her hands were looped around broke, and her torso fell. The branch holding her legs also snapped, unable to hold the sudden strain of her full weight, and she plummeted downward. The fall was quick - she hardly felt the branches swipe viciously at her until she hit the ground. But when she did, two things happened: first, she landed hard on her ankle, and she immediately collapsed to the ground, and second, she realized that the tree branches had done much more than slow her fall. She bore several scratches, but two were actual gashes. One, a small wound, was on her left side, just below her ribcage. The second was on her right arm, but it was much more than a small wound: a huge gash, half an inch deep and an inch wide, ran from her elbow to her wrist on the underside of her arm.

Adariel hissed with pain, pressing her arm tightly to her chest in a desperate attempt to make the pain go away. After a moment of coping with the sudden onslaught of wounds and the extreme discomfort they brought, she pushed herself upright and crawled over to where the blade was standing out from the ground. She swiped at it with her left hand and, after knocking it over, used it to cut her bonds. She then wrangled with them, and after much twisting and turning of the wrists, she managed to get the ropes off.

Her wrists were raw, and Adariel wrinkled her nose at the tender, blood-stained skin that her limbs had become. She looked at the sword - she should have taken it with her, for protection. However, given that moving too quickly made the world spin, she doubted that she would help herself much, even with the blade, should she be attacked. Instead, she used the blade to cut a strip of her skirt away, and she wrapped it around her arm as best she could, given that she only had one hand. Then she began the struggled to stand.

After three attempts, Adariel stood, braced on one of the branches that had fallen with her, and began to limp forward. Her sense of direction was poor compared to most Elves, but she assumed that she was heading eastward.

For, after much deliberation, performed as she struggled to stand, she had decided that heading directly for Rivendell would not be wise. Dimalphion would expect that, for one, and for another, she would lead him away from her loved ones if she moved away from the Dell. Eventually she would double back and return home, but for now, she thought it safest for all involved if she stayed away.

Adariel had no idea how long she walked before her ankle gave out, sending her crashing once more to the ground. She had already fallen once - she assumed from blood loss, an ironic thing for and Elf. At any rate, this time when she fell, she felt no need nor hurry to struggle back to her feet and press on. She was tired, hungry, and beginning to feel ill.

Her bandage had long since lost its ability to stay in place without help - Adariel was constantly pulling it tighter about her arm, which more often than not succeeded only in sending darts of pain throughout her entire body. She needed… something. Rest. That was what she required. Roughly two years' worth would have been wonderful.

She finally gained enough sense, however, to realize that she could never rest for long out in the open. So she crawled over to a nearby patch of bushes and curled up into a small ball underneath them, hiding herself well before she let her eyes slide close.