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.)
Carol, Trinka, 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)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Now, you all are probably thinking, "WHY THE HECK HAVEN'T YOU UPDATED, WOMAN!" Well, for that you have my utmost apologies. I had a production, if you must know, and wrapped it up spectacularly, I might add. Then there were all sorts of finals and such, and I'm also currently involved with graphics making competitions. But hey, this is summer, and with summer comes the updates. The next chapter is currently nearly half written, and I hope you haven't grown tired of me yet. I really want to finish this fanfic by the end of summer. (In your dreams, girlfriend) and I think I'm going to make a try for it. But please bear in mind I'm also trying to finish a fantasy novel that's been in the works for about two years now and it gets top priority. But then, the LOTR plotbunnies have made their grand return and we threw a party for them, so they're likely to stay. Now, enjoy the chapter, and bug me for the next!
This update is especially for Sarah and Griz', who told me they missed my story. feels special
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Part Eighteen
The Time Given
No longer, for 'Ros, was this a display of power or an attempt to cow the impudent young elf before him. Backed by the power of his father, a power of unknown strength, Farqwen had suddenly gone from a mild challenge to staggering obstacle. He snarled, a sound that even in elf form would have been more than appropriate. He put up a wall in front of him, and braced himself.
The seconds seemed infinite. The strain became overpowering as Farqwen's attack built up fury, piling behind the wall. 'Ros began to tremble slightly, his body giving way to the pressure of the battle of power. Then, he felt a slight give in his mental wall. He put forth one last great surge. There was a brief pause, the wall of energy moved forward just the slightest bit. Then came rushing back at him, all the pent-up power that he had been staving off came hurtling backwards. The incandescent colors swirled about him, overpowering him, blinding him. Then the agony. He had never known such pain, and that, in itself, surprised him greatly. It felt as if his very being was being torn asunder and his soul ripped from it. The light seeking, destroying, purging. His own power mixed with Farqwen's, breaking him to pieces. Then the darkness took him, and it was sweet relief.
"I shall wake in Mandos. But," He thought, "At least I went out spectacularly…again"
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When the final blast came, Aragorn, Legolas, and Farlest were not sure what to make of it. In it's final throes, the battle had been so intense that the sheen of power had blinded the onlookers. They were afraid now. For they could not see the victor. If indeed there was one. Then, the tendrils of power wisped away, and a figure emerged.
Farqwen, apparently uninjured, walked towards them, a smug grin on his face. The orcs and ruffians who hadn't run away in fear, crept towards their employer, hopeful that the situation could once again turn to their favor.
Farlest lip curled in disgust, "You didn't defeat him! You had to beg our father to save your pitiful hide! Do you have any idea what you've done? He was so far above you as to make you seem a thrall! He was truly noble and you destroyed him! He was my FRIEND! He – he…" the raven-haired elf trailed off as his fury melted away into tears of sorrow.
"Faugh!" Farqwen spat at his brother, who now knelt in the dust, shattered by the loss of his friend. "It matter now how I won. It only matters that I did defeat him! And you should choose less reckless friends, they're a bad influence on you."
"You shouldn't have done that." The voice of the Elven prince was quiet, almost silky, concealing well his feelings. Beside him, the ranger nodded, silently agreeing with his best friend.
The victorious elf smirked, "Who are you to tell me what I should or should not do, Mirkwood Prince? Your life is once again in my hands as it is; I wouldn't push my luck. You either, human, you're even more worthless than he is."
Aragorn's eyes shone silver with anger, "You do not deserve to be called an elf."
Farqwen moved forward and seized the front of Aragorn's tunic, almost faster than the eye could follow, "I dare you to say that again, impudent whelp!"
"You. Do. Not. Deserve. To. Be. Called. An. Elf." Aragorn said evenly, biting off each word and enunciating clearly, so as not to be misunderstood, his posture shouting defiance. Farqwen slapped him, twice.
"Your death will be slow and painful. And you will take back every word you just spoke, but it will not save you. You will beg me to forgive you before I am done with you, ranger." He whispered into Aragorn's ear, his voice soft and pleasant, "I will enjoy it."
"You leave him alone, brother."
Farqwen's head snapped around. Farlest stood behind him, his eyes smoldering like green embers, "You're going to have to settle it with me before you so much as touch them again!"
The younger elf smiled again, a softer version of the smirk he had worn before. "Ah, you care so much, Farlest. And because of it you have so many weaknesses. Why did father ever like you, I wonder? You are certainly not like him. But then again, you were, somewhat, in the old days." At this point he released Aragorn, moving closer to his sibling, "You were a killer, Farlest. You could do it, quick, clean, and simple. There was no one better than you. You even brought the girl you loved to father."
Farlest's eyes widened, "That was a mistake! Father – "
"It happened, Farlest. And you stayed. She left, scarred forever by her wounds. Wounds for which she blamed you and swore your death. But you still care for her don't you? You kept an eye on her, didn't you?"
The raven-haired elf's head had begun to drop as he was accused, but at this last it came up sharply, "What?"
"Don't think I don't know. I knew why you were always late coming home from your missions. You went to check on HER, because you knew where she was. But you never did a very good job protecting those you loved. There was that other friend of yours too, what was his name? You used to tell me stories about him when we were little. The golden-haired warrior."
"Glorfindel." Farlest mumbled miserably, like a child who has been reprimanded for some sin.
"Ah yes, the Balrog-Slayer he is called. To bad the Balrog slayed him as well."
At this, Farlest gave a small smile, "Hmmm…I wonder how Glorfindel would take your insults."
"He is dead, Farlest, that is of no consequence. You show so little respect for the dead. You haven't even paid your last respects to the corpse of your fallen wolf friend."
The green-eyed elf staggered backwards slightly, "Something which I will amend immediately." Turning, he loped off into the night.
"Be careful!" Farqwen called after him gaily, "You might have to look for a while, he was blasted pretty far back!"
Just then, a blade came whistling through the air. Legolas caught it deftly by the handle, looking curiously back at its source. "Keep an eye on my brother for me will you?" Farlest called out.
Handing the knife over to Aragorn just as swiftly, the prince followed the other elf, "Watch him, Strider. I'm going with Farlest."
After the two had disappeared, Aragorn grinned amiably at his ex-captor, "Now, you and I are going to have a discussion about what exactly determines a good Elf."
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Legolas raced to catch up with Farlest, and, because of the sudden darkness after being exposed to the light of the battle, nearly collided with him, for the other elf had stopped short. Staring ahead, seeming almost afraid to move. "Farlest?" the prince queried quietly, worried that the day had finally taken its toll on the other elf.
Suddenly, soundlessly, Farlest sprinted forward, running as if life itself were dependent on how fast he could place one foot in front of the other; Legolas, his back paining him, jogged after, making as fast a pace as he could manage. When he reached his companion's side, he glanced down at the fallen body at his feet, and his mouth opened in a wordless 'o' of astonishment.
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Aragorn soon realized that he probably should have gone with the other two Elves. The orcs and hired thugs in Farqwen's employ were advancing. As they drew closer, the elf inched away, to the safety of his minions.
The circle tightened, and the ranger realized that he was in very deep trouble. Then, Farqwen, a knife in hand, sprang forward, using his weight and momentum to topple the hapless human. Straddling his chest, a wild gleam in his eye, the elf smiled darkly, "Now, ranger, it begins." And he plunged the knife through the human's shoulder.
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Farlest knelt reverently beside 'Ros. Somehow, the power that had struck his friend so forcefully had done something that he had not thought possible, had changed the course of things. The Valar had allowed for a grand miracle. For lying in front of him, his chest rising and falling ever so slowly, was an Elf.
To be continued…xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I STILL LOVE YOU ALL!
-Estelrond
aka Elven Dreamer Child