Chapter Seventeen: The Pieces Are Moving
"So what is so urgent that you would call upon me in the middle of the night, Rameil?" Haldir questioned his friend as they stalked down the corridor. The dark-haired elf kept his voice low, his entire body rigid and alert as though he expected an attack at any moment.
"I have been suspicious of the goings-on here, sir, since yestereve- the day Cálivien… was killed," he answered softly, his eyes dark with sorrow. Haldir merely nodded, urging him to continue as they passed through the winding corridors though his thoughts were still with the young elf sleeping in his room.
"I have taken to walking about the palace- to ease my thoughts," Rameil admitted, scarcely glancing up when Ancadal suddenly materialized at his side, his youthful exuberance faded to grim wariness.
"He's in the main chamber," the youthful soldier informed them quietly.
Haldir was confused. Apparently, his soldiers had decided to do a bit of their own exploring without him.
"What is going on?" he demanded, stopping short. Ancadal shot an almost apologetic glance at his commander.
"I'm getting there," Rameil responded patiently.
"We took Cálivien's body down to the cellars- where there is a room for those who die in battle to await their proper burial. We placed him on a slab there and would have buried him this morning but when we returned later that evening, the body was gone. I saw a great smoke out under the trees- and I knew."
'They burned him," Ancadal spat with astonishing vehemence.
"Without our consent?" Haldir demanded, his voice shaking with anger.
"Ainan said that he felt that it would be too painful for us and it was their duty to care for him," Ancadal said bitterly.
"It was our duty- he was our friend."
Cold fury had replaced the Lórien commander's grief.
"Why?" he demanded, staring searchingly from one to the other. "Why?"
"I know not the purpose of it- but Ainan has already deemed us 'dangerous,'" the raven-haired elf snorted. "It is strange is it not that the King vanishes and Ainan so easily assumes his place?" Rameil mused.
"Ainan is behind this," Haldir said grimly. "I know it."
"That's what I thought too," Rameil agreed. "The attack of the so-called 'brigands' in the forest was not by chance. The King has been taken."
"Do you know where he is?" Haldir asked, looking up sharply. Rameil shook his head.
"I do not know. But I do not think he is dead. The cellars go deeper than we know. I have only been down there once or twice but there is a labyrinth of passages- and the dungeons. There are elves down there, sir," Rameil said quietly. "As prisoners. What for I do not know but I do not think it is done with the King's sanction."
The night was already old. The tallow sputtering candles that illumined the small room guttered, their wax dripping carelessly onto the ancient silver wood of the desk. Anariel stood rigid beside it, gazing absently at the dying candle flame. Her soul was heavy with a sorrowing blackness that refused to leave her. The Darkness had been growing; she felt it in her mind and in her heart. And she feared deeply for her husband who had not yet been found though their realm had been painstakingly searched.
But, she pushed her fear and sadness to the back of her mind as she raised her eyes to the slender figure before her, standing half shrouded in the dying amber light.
"Do not speak of such horrible things," she was saying. "Thranduil will be found- it's only a matter of time before the scouts return." Ainan shook his head grimly.
"He is dead, muinthel (sister). There is nothing you can do save-."
"No, Ainan! I refuse to believe it," the Queen interrupted passionately. Ainan merely gave her a conciliatory smile.
"Of course. There, there, little sister," Ainan soothed. "Do not fear. I have something that will make you feel better." As he spoke, he lifted a thin, rolled up object from the table. With a delicate toss, he revealed the painting before her eyes.
"I thought you might like it," he said, absently brushing away the age-long dust that lay over the family portrait. Anariel shifted not entirely comfortably as her eyes darted to the dark attendant, who never seemed to leave Ainan's side, standing watchfully by the door. She knew his burning eyes rested on her. Determined not to show fear to anyone, she turned back to her brother.
Sometimes a strange mood would take him- he would be melancholy and wistful then burst to sudden flame of anger or passion. It was difficult to tell with him now that they were older. But she remembered the painting drawn long ago, at a happier time in a garden freshly washed by rain.
Anariel looked down at the top of her brother's head from where he reclined easily on the settee. He lifted his eyes to her and she felt anger bloom in her as she saw that insufferably insolent smirk on his face as though he knew something she didn't.
"What is so amusing to you, muindor (brother)?" she asked. He merely shook his head in that enigmatic way of his that irritated her so much.
"Nothing at all, my dear."
"You're bleeding," she remarked with a frown, pointing at his sleeve. Ainan glanced at his wrist casually, finding his sleeve spattered with Legolas' dried blood. The little brat bleeds like a stuck pig, he thought disdainfully. But, he smiled reassuringly.
"Do not concern yourself, my baby sister."
"Stop treating me like a child, Ainan, I am not one any longer," she snapped angrily. "You have not been telling me anything and I demand to know what has been going on. Have you even sent out scouts to find my lord husband?" she wondered, her eyes narrowing. Ainan gave her a scornful smile in answer.
"You cannot possibly understand the pressures of ruling a Kingdom," he said dismissively. Anariel shot a look at him like a javelin.
"Actually, Ainan, I do."
"Only from the bed," he sneered, his lip curling. She bristled but he paid her no mind as he stood, his mien suddenly cold.
"I have been patient. I have been generous. But I will not tolerate… insubordination," he warned softly. He framed the Queen's small, beautiful face with his long, icy fingers.
"You are my little paper doll with whom I can do whatever I wish. And you will obey me in this." Anariel stared up at him in incomprehension for a moment. There was something wrong with her brother. He stared down at her almost menacingly, commanding her to bow to his every whim.
The Queen was no fool. She knew who her brother was- what he was. But she feared him. He had sent no scouts to search for the King and he had been remarkably callous towards the entire affair, willfully and even gleefully assuming the throne as soon as Thranduil was out of the way.
"What have you done with my husband?"
"You wound me, sister," he sighed with a highly affronted look as he stepped back from her. "The black thought of treachery sends a shiver up my very spine. How can you think that of me?"
Ainan's smile never wavered as he swayed closer. The malice was beginning to break through the icy mask of restraint her brother had built up and Anariel took a small step back as he towered menacingly over her. Then his face melted into a falsely warm smile though a hard edge lingered in his eyes.
"I have been nothing but supportive to your… husband- though he took from what me what rightfully has always been mine," he said quietly, anger tightening the hard planes of his face.
Suddenly, he darted forward and seized her wrist tightly. She shot a glance down at their interlocked hands.
"You believe me do you not, Anariel?" he hissed sibilantly.
"You're hurting me," she gasped, trying to pull away from him. He only tightened his grip further, staring down at her with a mad look in his eyes that she knew all too well. Ainan abruptly released her as a sharp knock sounded upon the heavy door.
"Yes?" he barked sharply.
"Sir," Kirar answered, standing in the doorway and saluting respectfully as he bowed to the Queen. "Your presence is requested- it is a matter of some urgency."
Ainan nodded and leaned in close.
"Be careful of whom you accuse, muinthel (sister)."
Legolas woke suddenly from a dream. For a moment, he forgot where he was and sat up abruptly, searching the strange bedroom in a blind panic until he recognized a familiar grey cloak draped over a chair back and sighed quietly. He was in Haldir's room.
Safe.
The little prince leaned back against the pillows, willing his heart to stop hammering but unease spiked through him and he sat up again, looking around the room, realizing the absence of its usual occupant.
Haldir hadn't returned yet.
Uneasiness plagued the young elf and he wondered why the older elf hadn't come back yet. It surely must have been hours for the moon no longer filtered through the curtains and the room was wholly dark. What if something horrible had happened? What if he had been captured or worse? And what of Lóthmir? Had they found him yet?
Fear shot through him and Legolas slid out from under the warm sheets. He glanced around and caught sight of Haldir's knife on the bedside table. Stooping swiftly, he seized it, hoping Haldir wouldn't mind for the blade gave the elf-prince comfort. Carefully, he edged out into the moonlit hallway and slid down it as silently as a ghost in search of his friends.
Haldir rubbed his hands across his face tiredly. They had been dodging lanterns and torches all night, creeping through the shadows to try to discover something of Ainan's movements. But nothing could they discover of his schemes or where he might have hidden away the elven child. The clandestine plans were well-hidden and the palace as silent as a grave.
Haldir didn't quite like the picture that presented. He hoped for the boy's own sake that his friend had stayed in the room. Legolas would be playing right into his uncle's hands if he was found now. The elf commander shook his head; what was he going to do now? He didn't know how he could manage to keep Legolas hidden and it wasn't right to try- though Ainan might not find him, neither would his mother. Should he tell the Queen? She had a right to know- but what if she was in league with Ainan? Impossible! No mother would hurt her son.
Would she?
Haldir bid Rameil a careful goodnight and urged him to come to him as soon as it was fully light. The elven commander fairly flew back to his room and carefully closed the door behind him. He frowned, noticing the rather lumpy shapeless mass beside an empty pillow. His scowl deepened as he tossed back the covers.
Gone!
Muttering imprecations under his breath, Haldir swiped a hand across his brow and immediately spun around, back out into the corridor in search of the wayward prince.
Legolas sighed quietly in despairing defeat. He had found nothing save the ghostly shadows of moonlight playing across the stone walls. A cold sweat had settled over him and the knife in his hand was slippery. He tightened his grip on it reassuringly as he padded back into the darkness, away from the windows that starkly illuminated his fair face in her light.
A dark menacing shadow suddenly loomed up over him and Legolas recoiled in fright, bringing up the knife almost before he realized he had. The shadow dodged the blade and seized his wrist. The knife clattered to the floor as the prince fought wildly.
"Legolas- Legolas, it's me! Stop it!"
Legolas ceased his struggles abruptly as the figure stepped into the light.
"Haldir," the relieved elfling breathed, relaxing slightly.
"What are you doing out of bed?" the older elf reproved quietly, disappointment in his tone as he stooped to scoop his knife off the floor. Legolas shifted uncomfortably.
"I was looking for you… when you didn't come back… I-"
Haldir felt his anger melt as he realized his young friend had been worried about him. He put a hand on the prince's shoulder.
"Come on," he said softly, steering him back down the hall. He didn't have the heart to scold the young prince: he would have done the same had it been one of his friends who had been missing.
"Did you find Lóthmir?" Legolas asked his eyes bright and hopeful as he looked up into the older elf's face; Haldir looked away.
"Not yet. We'll find him; don't worry." Haldir took a deep breath and stopped, causing Legolas to stop too as he knelt beside him.
"Legolas, listen to me carefully," Haldir said quietly, gripping the prince by the shoulders. "Does anyone else know about your uncle?" Legolas bit his lip.
"Telas. Telas might," he answered at last.
He had not seen his father's councilor since the fateful day he had asked of Telas' attacker. Legolas had long suspected his uncle of harming Telas and though the other elf had denied it- Ainan had others to aid him in his cruelty.
Haldir nodded and sprang to his feet, seizing the young elf by his uninjured wrist.
"Come on then."
The healer's ward was dark and silent when they at last made their way through its dim passage.
"He's down here," Legolas whispered, approaching a door on his right. He eased into the silent chamber and glanced at the bed where a bar of moonlight slid through the high windows- revealing empty sheets and fluffed pillows.
"He's not here," Legolas whispered quietly, stepping back across the threshold, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed up over them and a bright yellow light dazzled their eyes making them step back in sudden alarm and throw their forearms up to shield their face from the brilliance.
"Your highness, what are you doing here at this hour? Do you need something?" It was the healer's assistant and household servant, Vanima. She slowly lowered the lamp enough so they could see her face. Legolas sighed softly in relief and Haldir took his hand from his sword hilt.
"Telas- where is he?" Legolas asked.
The servant shook her head slowly, her face grave.
"I'm sorry, my prince. He has passed on to Mandos' care now." Legolas felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Telas was gone…? The golden-haired prince cast a defeated look at Haldir who stood in the shadows, his face without expression but his eyes cast to the floor.
"You know," the healer's frown was thoughtful and puzzled and they turned back to look at her. "It was really odd. He was making such good progress too. His health was much better…"
Legolas looked up at her, carefully hiding the anguish he felt. He thanked her and looked back up at Haldir who had more or less guessed the truth of the matter now.
"Do not leave my sight, Legolas. Not even for an instant," Haldir warned him sternly, laying a firm hand on the prince's shoulder as he steered him back along the corridor.
With heavy steps, they trudged down the hall.
Legolas flopped listlessly onto the bed when they had returned to Haldir's room. He did not move for a long moment. Sleep eluded him though as he thought of Telas and Cálivien and how many others who had died? And of his friend: cold and hungry, lying in some dungeon cell- in his uncle's hands. Ainan would find out. They would be caught and Lóthmir would die- might already be dead. And then, Ainan would come after him and Haldir, Legolas thought, near to shaking with cold fear.
He felt so helpless. He couldn't stand this hideous waiting stay here and do nothing any longer- he had to do something! He would not allow his friends to suffer anymore on his account.
"I'm sorry, Haldir," Legolas whispered, pulling the cloak closer up around his sleeping friend's shoulders.
"Please don't worry," He murmured as he slipped silently out of the room and down the darkened hallway.
