Author: Estelrond
Disclaimer: The words are mine, the elves aren't
Warnings and all that good stuff can be found in Chapter one. I appreciate reviews though. I'm a feedback junkie. (Plus, if you don't, I'll send my assassin elves after you.)
I have to give a hug to Sio and Carol, my most faithful reviewers; I don't think they've missed a chapter! You rock, ladies!
Trinka- Thanks for sticking with me. I know I'm just a confuzzled little girl, but you tolerate me anyway.
San, Claudia, Any, Morwen and Sa… my world wouldn't be the same without you…NO, REALLY!!!!!! hugs
The rest of this story can be found at (reviews there are nice as well)
A while back, somebody requested twins…well, wait no longer….
Oh, and I'm starting home tomorrow…so updates will hopefully be quicker. I actually already have the next chapter written, I just haven't had the time to type it up.
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Part FourteenTraitor in the Camp
He's forced our hand. 'Ros was decidedly regretful. Having set a ridiculously speedy pace in order to catch up with Farlest's errant brother, they were rather weary having run most of the day. Their quarry had run all night, and it was well into the day when they had actually caught sight of what they sought. And when Aragorn had fallen, it had provided the perfect opportunity for the tiring hunters to close the gap between the two parties.
"Well, the Dunedain is in no immediate danger, and I am in no shape to face my brother alone. The elf may die, and I will mourn him, but…" the elf gestured helplessly at his friend.
'Ros glowered, Farlest, I would have preferred you to discover this yourself, but as your brother has forced your hand so you have forced mine. The elf which your brother intends to kill is the Prince of Mirkwood; only child of King Thranduil Oropherion. I suggest you get down there and do something about it.
The color drained from the elf's face, and his eyes widened with astonishment, fright, and another emotion which the wolf found that he could not read. Turning swiftly from his friend, Farlest watched his brother, "The prince of Mirkwood is dead."
His friend placed a paw on his knee, Why do you say this, mellon-nin? he was curious as to where the elf had come to this conclusion, as the elf, though perhaps not for long, was there before them, very much alive.
"I saw him die. Long ago. He was very young, 'Ros…so very young…" his voice had trembled slightly.
Didst thou do something foolish? The inquiry was gentle.
A single tear trickled down Farlest's cheek, and he nodded.
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Farqwen ran the flat of his blade down the side of Legolas' cheek and down his neck, letting the elf feel the cold steel. He then brought the point of it to rest against the prince's chest, right above his heart. The dark elf brought his hand up and grabbed a fistful of the blonde hair; he leaned forward until his lips were nearly touching the Wood-Elf's ear. "You're going to die, elf. I'm going to cut your heart out so that you can see it cease to beat as you breath your last. I'm going to do it slowly, so you can savor every excruciating moment. And your human friend shall watch, so that your every scream shall be ingrained upon his very soul." He hissed.
He cut open the fastenings on the prince's tunic so that his chest was exposed. The tip of his blade rested above his heart, a small trickle of crimson ran down the elf's skin. Legolas could hear Aragorn cursing and struggling in the background, but the ranger had not enough strength, and he had to give up, hanging limply between two guards.
"I'm sorry, mellon-nin!" he whispered, his voice breaking as his heart threatened to do the same.
The dark elf's eyes glittered in anticipation, "No last words, elf?" But Legolas refused to reply, his blue eyes speaking volumes of hatred and contempt.
"So be it." The dark elf drew back the dagger and drove it forward and the elf prince knew he was going to die. And to his regret, he found he was not ready to leave this world.
…
But a bloody hand intercepted the fatal stroke, catching the dark elf's wrist with a skill that told of honed reflexes and great skill. "No."
Vexed and annoyed, Farqwen turned to the one who had dared stop him. What he saw was the last thing he had expected. A pair of dark eyes as green as his own. "You're alive! I thought I'd killed you!" It seemed that the elf had materialized out of thin air, as Farqwen was certain that his sibling had not been there a moment ago.
Farlest lifted his free hand, the one that was not clutching his brother's wrist and wiggled the fingers experimentally. "By the Valar, you're right! I am alive! Glad you discovered that for me. I'm sure I NEVER would have come to that conclusion by my own lonesome."
Aragorn was incredibly glad to see the other elf, though he did not know how Farlest could possibly turn the tide, it was good to see him alive. And at the very least he had turned their captor's wrath from Legolas.
The midnight-clad elf studied his brother a moment, his left sleeve was missing and what was left of it appeared to be bound around his shoulder. His right hand was still bloody, as he had apparently tended his own wound. That Farqwen's blade had inflicted damage was apparent as the makeshift bandage was bloodstained. "What do you want, assassin?" the dark elf pulled back, his fingers disentangling themselves from Legolas' hair and pulling his arm out of his brother's grip, "I somehow don't see you as taking interest in my affairs."
Farlest shrugged, "Just hate to see you throw away an opportunity brother. I am not invincible and thought in my best interest to join you."
Legolas' eyes narrowed, "You traitorous cur!" he spat.
The raven-haired elf smiled pleasantly, "Save your insults for a moment, will you? You're going to want them in a minute." The prince growled.
The dark-haired elf merely raised an eyebrow, staring at Legolas with no apparent interest. "Brother, have you any idea what you have in your grasp?"
Farqwen's gaze was uncurious, "I know who the ranger is, if that is what you mean. As for the wood-elf, he is unimportant."
"Aha!" Farlest spun about and pointed accusingly at his brother as he stalked back towards him, "And that is where you, my bumbling baby brother, have a misconception. The elf in your grasp is none other than Legolas Thranduilion, prince of Mirkwood."
Infuriated, Legolas lunged forward, throwing himself toward the dark-haired elf. But this time the guards were ready for him, one punched him in the jaw, stunning him and causing his lip to bleed while the other drove his fist into the elf's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, they slammed him back against the cliff face and he remained there, too dazed to respond. Part of his mind dimly recognized Aragorn crying out in outrage, and saw one of the guards drawing his fist back for another punch, but he was already reeling, and incapable of a response.
With an almost casual motion, Farlest caught the man's wrist mid-punch. "Enough. Let him alone. He has a right to be angry."
The look that both Aragorn and Legolas sent him was strange and slightly skeptical, as if they were unsure as of what to expect from this strange elf. Farlest was still very much an enigma. And also, where was 'Ros?
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"He's late." Complained Elladan, "He was supposed to be home a week ago."
A mirror image of himself plopped down on the grass beside him, "What's so strange about that? He's always late! Especially when he goes to Mirkwood to go visiting."
Propping himself up on one elbow, Elladan gazed at his twin, "But there's something wrong this time, 'Ro!" he insisted, "He promised, and if anything's important to Estel, it's keeping his word."
Elrohir's grey eyes grew troubled, and the older twin noted how much they resembled storm clouds when he was in this kind of mood. Finally the younger looked up, "I think you're right. He and Legolas are probably off trying to get killed again."
"Which means," the older twin began.
"They're going to need help." Elrohir finished his brother's sentence.
"Let's go-"
"-ask Ada."
Satisfied that they were in agreement, the brothers leapt up and sprinted up the stairs into the main house of Imladris, to seek out Lord Elrond.
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Aranna Undomiel: Well, there…you see. Things are a bit better. Legolas isn't going to get killed and help is on the way. Glad I was able to clear things up a bit. It's going to get a bit clearer where 'Ros is concerned and a bit more cloudy where Farlest and Farqwen are concerned.
Carol: There you go. Fixed the cliffie. Mind you. There's another coming up…::evil grin:: And I'm journeying home tomorrow. YES YES YES!!!!
Sio: Hmmm…yes, the rare glimpses into Farlest's mind. I made him sort of an enigma. To everybody but myself of course…though occasionally he pops a few surprises on me. 'Ros is rather profound at times, isn't he? When he's not mad of course. Aren't you glad I didn't stick that last cliffie with the dagger actually at Legolas' throat? (I did think about that, though…) And Angst! YES! BRING ON THE ANGST!!!!!
Draugwen: Oh, I'm so glad you like. Farlest is my "child" of sorts. He needs all the help he can get. And yes, 'Ros is a product of my own overwhelming desire to see that particular character in an adventure with some of the more 'modern' Lotr characters. I'm rather in love with him...Not to mention the fact that he's sooo awesome! I was actually rather worried about bringing him into this story. Wondering how to portray him…how he would fit…and so far it's worked pretty well…hmmm…just wait till everyone else figures him out…then we're in trouble.