Chapter Eighteen: Into the Dark
Sepulchral silence plagued his footsteps as the young prince wandered the empty halls of his home. He didn't want to do this; the darkness pressed against his senses and cold fear chilled his limbs. But a new determination had settled over his fear: he had to rescue his friend even if he himself was captured. It didn't matter. Rather would he face anything so long as his friend lived.
The elf-child's footsteps noiselessly padded down the steep spiraling staircase that he lightly and cautiously eased down. The torches sputtered on their sconces, unlit by the servants who had long since gone to bed. Down into the very bowels of the palace he trod, not knowing quite where he was going. The underground caverns were vast and hiding places nearly endless- how could he hope to find his friend down here? And even if he could find him- how would he get him out from under his uncle's very nose?
These thoughts beleaguered Legolas as the pungent scent of damp stone filled his nostrils and the dim hallway darkened still more. Nevertheless, he had to try. He was deep under the palace now, far from the Great Hall and the Elves' quarters.
Far from any aid.
Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, Legolas flitted through the oppressive darkness of his home. He stopped at a cross passage where the one he stood upon ran on into the darkness and another cut across it, heading left and downwards or right and downwards. Legolas knew that the right hand passage would take him to the cellars and the stream that fed the swift Forest River. But the forward passage and the left hewn one were unfamiliar to him.
Taking a deep unsteady breath, he chose the left and plunged down more narrow, spiraling stairs, slick with moisture. The further down he traveled, the darker and wetter it became until water dripped from the very ceiling onto his head. He swiped the droplets from his brow, his nose wrinkling at the damp, forsaken smell of the place. He halted as he followed a curve of the tunnel and found himself in a wider corridor where torches had been suddenly kindled. Legolas rubbed the spots that had popped into life before his eyes after such a long time in the dark.
When his eyes had adjusted to this new light, he looked around at the corridor that stretched on before him. There were rows upon rows of cells intermittently on either side of him: sturdy wooden doors with only iron bars at the top of the door to allow any light or view of those inside. Legolas had never been in the dungeons before and now he knew why. It was a dark, horribly cheerless place with an unwholesome air of neglect about it.
Hesitatingly, the fair prince stretched up on his toes and peered into one of the cells.
Empty.
He moved onto the next one with the same result.
Maybe all of them were empty, Legolas thought hopefully, feeling a small measure of relief. But then a voice spoke and startled him so badly he nearly fell over in shock.
"Who is there?" a voice called out. A familiar voice.
Legolas hastened towards the sound, wondering if he should answer.
"I can hear you out there. Answer me and stop skulking in the shadows, you craven coward!" the voice spat angrily. Legolas blinked and stopped before the left cell midway down the corridor. He grabbed the bars and looked in.
"Tirien?" he asked quietly.
There came a rushed rattle as though of hastily moved chains from within.
"Prince Legolas?" responded the voice eagerly. "Praise Valar, you're still alive!"
"You're in here?" Legolas asked, squinting into the dark cell as he saw the beginning of a pale outline in the dark. His father's friend and captain of the Royal Guard stared forlornly back at him, shackled at ankles and wrists as he shuffled forward to peer through the bars at the prince.
"What are you doing down here, Legolas?" he asked softly, his voice hoarse as though from disuse- or shouting. His usually sleek hair was unkempt and tangled, matted with filth and worse things. He looked as though he had been beaten- repeatedly- for marvelous bruises attacked his right eye, swelling it closed, and a glorious lump marred his jaw. Legolas looked away from that questioning, sorrow-filled gaze, wondering if the elf-captain knew of his son's disappearance.
"I-I'm looking for someone," he answered lamely, another twinge of guilt twisting his insides for another lie that left his lips. Tirien frowned slightly.
"Who?"
Legolas shifted still more uncomfortably under that now-searching gaze. He swallowed and closed his eyes momentarily.
"You haven't seen my father down here have you, Tirien?" he asked desperately, not having the heart to tell the elf of his son hoping beyond hope for news of his father- he couldn't believe Thranduil was dead.
Slowly, the elven guard shook his head.
"I have not. Though there are many down here, I think." A dirty hand raked through snagged golden strands in thought. "I do not know how long I've been down here… so many… But, no, your father I have not seen."
Legolas felt his heart sink lower. He wished he had some hope to give to the distraught guard. But he had none left even for himself. He choked off the bitter tears of hatred and helplessness that threatened to rise out of him and looked up at the elven commander with a steady gaze.
"You must go, Legolas- you can't be found here," Tirien urged suddenly, his forehead pressed to the bars as though he were listening intently.
"I'll find a way to free you, Tirien, I promise," Legolas swore, hastening down the hall with a backward glance.
"Valar bless you, child," he heard the faint whisper echo back at him as he jogged down the hall and turned the corner, leaving the cells behind him.
And ran straight into Kirar.
The lieutenant seized him by the upper arms to keep him from falling, startled into immobility by the prince's sudden appearance. Legolas, in turn, was frightened and managed to throw off the surprised soldier's arms before he recognized the face staring down at him.
"Legolas? What are you doing down here?" Kirar demanded, sounding almost enraged. The prince looked up at his tutor in shock and sudden fear though he didn't know why he was afraid of his teacher.
"I-I-"
"No, Legolas, you cannot be down here now," Kirar interrupted fervently, gripping the younger elf's arms in a painfully tight grasp. His thin face was nearly frantic and he kept looking nervously over his shoulder. He still looked the worse for wear with his lip cut and a wondrously bruised cheek. Legolas stared up at him, wondering how he had come by those wounds.
Burning green eyes bored alarmingly into his own.
"Legolas, you must get back to the upper halls. I don't want to catch you down here again, do you understand me?"
The elf prince nodded, wincing slightly as the soldier pressed on his still sore wrist Only now did he fully realize how much his back was hurting him and the combined pain made his eyes water. Kirar abruptly released him and Legolas staggered backwards, catching himself against the wall and scraping his tender back painfully as he did so.
"Y-you won't tell anyone will you?" he asked shakily, still startled by the sudden pain that throbbed through him. Kirar hesitated a moment but he quickly collected himself and nodded.
"Of course not- if you go now."
Legolas nodded and vanished from his teacher's sight.
What in the world was going on down here? Filled cells… the captain of the guard a prisoner in the palace he had sworn to protect… his teacher skulking down here as well and still no sign of Lóthmir. Legolas raked his hair back over his shoulder in frustration. Part of him just wanted to obey Kirar's last words and abandon this foolish, futile mission. He was exhausted in body and spirit and his mind was weighted down with questions and fears and horrors that he couldn't ease.
But the other half of him had sworn not to rest until he had found his friend and seen him safely back to his home. But what kind of home would it be if he couldn't free Tirien as well? Lóthmir's mother must be worried sick.
Legolas straightened his shoulders despite his quailing heart and flagging spirit and glanced around at his surroundings. He didn't know where he was. None of this looked familiar. Hoping chance would smile on him for once, he chose a direction and began walking. Other tunnels and paths crisscrossed his own but Legolas kept on as straight as he could, praying that he would find something familiar in this desolate place he hadn't even known existed beneath his beloved home.
A warm wind struck his face and Legolas lifted his head, feeling the breeze kiss the icy sweat on his brow. Following it, he strained his ears for anything. He would almost have welcomed his uncle if only he could get out of this accursed labyrinth. Once or twice he thought he heard a sound but it was too muffled by the stone to distinguish.
The stone path laid before his feet stretched endlessly on before him and now Legolas seriously regretted his choice as he groped in blackness darker than pitch. The prince opened and closed his eyes a few times to see if it made any difference- it didn't. Suddenly, his heart lifted.
Up ahead he could discern a faint light- not daylight, it was still too late for that. But an orange light- wavering like a torch but greater and stronger. Legolas hastened towards it, forcing his aching legs on further. His back burned but he ignored it, concentrating on his breathing, on making it. A sound echoed back to meet him and the young elf immediately slowed.
Someone had screamed.
Slowly, Legolas eased forward, his hands beginning to shake with fear as he tried to block out the horrible, tormented sounds more like the agonized moans of a dying animal than any elf. But he could not prevent those wretched noises from reaching his ears no matter how hard he tried. A side passage opened before him and he took it, beginning to run in hopes of escaping the horrible sounds and memories of his own that overwhelmed him as he forced his protesting muscles onward. Legolas stopped so fast he slid on the slick stone and fell on his back.
The echoes had misled him.
Instead of running away, he had run straight into that which he wished most to avoid.
He had emerged at the tip of a long, low chamber, adorned with all sorts of monstrous cruelties hanging on the walls and littering the floor. A great furnace of hot coals in a pit in the center of the chamber flung a vast hot wind throughout the room and spat forth hot embers. The tortured elf hung from manacles attached to the ceiling several feet above it. Legolas could not see his face and saw only the back of his head. His bleeding, trembling body in the flickering firelight was overmatched only by the sadistic glee on the face of his tormenter.
The dark-haired elf turned at the sound behind him with hands akimbo, glaring down at the terrified form nearly lying at his feet as he swung the glowing poker in his long fingers. Legolas scrambled up and raced as fast as he could back down the hall, his heart leaping up into his throat.
"Legolas!" That horrid, haunted voice chilled his blood and leant wings to his feet pain forgotten, as he all but flew down the corridor, bounding up the stairs with the agility of a hunted hart. He could hear rapid footsteps at his heels and he forced his aching legs to take him faster, further. He hurtled down the corridor, swerving left or right as chance permitted, not caring in what direction he was heading so long as it was as far away from the pursuing elf as he could get.
He broke through a high archway and found himself in a cavernous hall which he didn't recognize in the near pitch blackness. He pushed forcefully onward into the night, stumbling when he could no longer see his feet in front of him, groping blindly in the dark and free air for anything. He stopped abruptly as his fingertips scraped against cold rough stone and he discovered that it was a tall, grey wall. He felt along it and realized that it was a pillar which he hastily ducked behind as the unsteady light of a torch pierced the unlit darkness.
The dark elf who hunted him paused under the archway, his near-black eyes wide and glittering like oil in the inconstant light that sent shadows scrabbling across his angular face. He stepped forward soundlessly, the torch raised high to send the revealing light staining the ground like blood and reflecting off the gilded marble pillars on either side of the chamber.
"Le hiruvan, tithen. (I will find you, little one.)" he hissed softly into the silence as he prowled through the room, entwining around each pillar searchingly. The long knife at his belt shimmered as he drew it with a whisper from its sheath. He paced closer now and Legolas knew that if he didn't do something, he'd be found. Groping blindly in the dark, he came upon a loose chunk in the pillar. With a small struggle, he managed to pry it from its berth and flung it as far from him as he could into the darkness.
Tindómëtir's head snapped around and he leapt towards the noise with a vicious snarl; his wicked knife raised and the torch flickering madly in his hand.
Legolas slipped around behind the dark elf's back; with his heart thundering so loudly, he feared it would betray him he skittered out of the vaulted chamber and into a narrow hallway. Sweat dripping down his temples and into his eyes, he dashed down the corridor as fast as he could,
Something caught him in the ankles and he crashed to the ground, striking his chin hard on the granite floor. Rubbing his jaw, Legolas rolled over, trying to push away from this new threat but strong arms seized him by the collar and dragged him upright. He struggled and managed to break free from his captor but something stopped him from fleeing.
The blue moonlight filtering through the narrow shaft of light that peeked through a chink in the stone threw his captor's face into sharp profile and glittered in distinct tendrils of crimson hair.
"Nárvenien?" he spat, wondering how long this woman would torment him before she was finished. He tasted blood on his tongue from where he had cut his lip against his teeth. Meanwhile, his eyes darted nervously down the corridor, searching for his sinister pursuer.
"I've seen you ride," she said in a completely unexpected subject, looking thoughtfully down at his still-swollen wrist as though nothing had happened.
"And even you aren't stupid enough to fall off your horse." Legolas didn't know whether to feel complimented or insulted and settled for confused. He merely stared at her and she shrugged.
"Don't worry. I'll hold them off," she said quietly, tossing her head backwards with a knowing smile. Legolas looked at her strangely.
"What?"
She sighed with exasperation and glanced backwards.
"Get out of here! Do as I say, little prince!" she snarled, giving him a shove down the corridor.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked suspiciously though every sense was screaming at him to run. Nárvenien shrugged.
"The sooner you're out of my hair- the better. I'm not doing you any favors, little prince. Maybe I'll get lucky and a spider'll kill you- or if you don't hasten, someone else will," she added with a wicked smile.
Legolas swallowed his uneasiness at those words and walked down the hall, breaking into a run after he turned the corner. As Nárvenien watched the prince turn the corner and disappear, two disembodied hands rested on her shoulders.
"Excellent," a voice hissed in her ear and the fiery woman hung her head.
There was only one place he could truly lose himself.
The forest.
Legolas had found his way back up to the main hall and there was no sound of pursuit behind him. But he knew.
His uncle had eyes and ears everywhere.
There was only one place he could be safer than he was here. Out in the forest, he might be killed. If he stayed here, he would be. Flitting down towards the entrance hall with no more a noise than a ghost's shadow, he ran a hand along the massive and heavily barred gate of his home.
The bolt slid back before him as though by magic and the prince slipped through the crack that opened just wide enough for him. The gate thudded closed behind him as he passed through.
Legolas' heart beat a rapid staccato in his breast as, ducking into a low crouch, he skittered down the marble stairs and across the path, sidling around the thorn bushes close to the enchanted forest river. He leapt the small stream which the river was at its source near the elves' palace- away from the sight of the guards. He looked back once at the tall palace that had been his home for as long as he could remember. Loneliness and fear pierced him through like an icicle.
Snow was falling. The white flakes whipped down from the sky, buffeted this way and that by the harsh, unforgiving wind. The snow filled his eyes and coated his shoulders, shivering down the back of his neck as he raced on, on beneath the dark trees.
Haldir tossed and turned restlessly in his chair. There was no pounding of his heart or shortening of breath, he simply awoke and found himself staring at the ceiling with such a pain in his heart he nearly sobbed though, for a moment, he couldn't recall why. Then he remembered… Cálivien… Haldir shuddered and glanced around at the dark corners of his room.
A soft breeze sweeping through the slightly ajar window kissed his sweat-soaked brow as Haldir stared up at the ceiling, trying to slide back into the safe realm of elven dreams.
But now, Cálivien's lifeless face floated before his mind's eye, blood dribbling from his white lips, his green eyes vacant and staring. Haldir shook his head and ground his palms into his eyes to try to bore that image out but it would not leave him.
Knowing he would not be able to sleep after this, Haldir tossed back the cloak from his legs and rose from the chair, shivering slightly as the cold air brushed his chilled skin. He glanced at the bed blearily. The small bundle beneath the sheets was quiet and still. At least, Legolas slept. He would be safe here if Haldir left him for a little while.
He draped a dark green robe about his shoulders, hung on a wooden peg for just such a purpose and, after a moment of consideration, he lifted his saber from where it had lain propped against the wall. He strapped it to his side and immediately felt more secure.
Haldir eased open the door to his room and peered out into the hall. Still nothing, he chided himself. He slid down the hall like a ghost, searching the empty, silent halls for- well, he wasn't quite sure what. The moon guided his way, lighting the path before his feet as she filtered through the emerald windows. The slightly greenish light on the soft red carpet before him looked ominously like blood on spring leaves.
Haldir shook his head to banish that useless thought and concentrated on his surroundings, on listening for even the slightest noise, on anything other than the memories and turmoil of thoughts that plagued him. Still, no matter how hard he tried, that prickle of growing fear crawled up his spine and lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. His stomach clenched uncomfortably and he glanced over his shoulder, his hand inching towards the hilt of his saber. He stopped, listening to the empty silence. He turned so that he faced a dark wooden door on the right side of the hallway. He was not entirely sure which part of the palace he was in but he would be damned if he was caught unprepared.
Carefully, he backed as far away from the doorway as he could. His shoulder hit the window with a thud and he jumped, twisting swiftly to face the emerald panes. His own white visage reflected in the glass. Something creaked behind him and he turned again.
"Who is there?" he challenged in a harsh whisper.
"Haldir?" the voice hissed. The elven commander whirled round as the voice came from beside him, his eyes wide as he peered into the shadowed doorway, knowing he was illuminated in the revealing moonlight. The silver luminescence gleamed on the razor-edged steel of his blade as he drew it with a hiss.
The door opened wider and a shadowy shape slipped through. Haldir kept his back carefully against the stone wall as the figure stepped into the moonlight; the elven commander breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Ancadal's face in the light. He lowered his blade, feeling suddenly foolish. His subordinate's eyes flickered over the naked blade and his commander in his nightclothes.
"Is everything all right, sir?" he asked cautiously, closing the door carefully behind him. Haldir sheathed his sword, buying time as he thought of how he should answer that. Should he concern the younger elf with his troubles- his guilt over the death of Cálivien, his fears for Legolas, Ainan…? Haldir shook his head firmly- to give voice to his fears would be to give them a reality.
And he was so tired.
In the long silence, Ancadal guessed his commander's thoughts and sighed, walking up to stand beside Haldir in the dim corridor.
"You are troubled," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. Haldir acquiesced with a weary nod, his eyes fixed on the scarlet carpet as he felt the blood rise in his cheeks.
"Do you wish to speak of it?" The elf captain turned away as he fought down the well of emotions threatening to burst his heart asunder. Grief, guilt, anger, sorrow… He shook his head.
"No." But that was a lie. He wanted- he needed to speak of it. It was destroying him inside- gnawing at his heart like poison. But Ancadal was not the one he could confide in. He could not understand.
"Are you sure?" The elf pressed, frowning slightly as he saw his commander's absent, vacant-eyed look. "Sir?" Haldir shook himself out of whatever dark thoughts he had fallen into and turned to his subordinate.
"No. I'm fine, Ancadal. Go back to sleep." So saying, Haldir quickly walked away before the stunned elf could say anything further.
Once he was sure that the halls around him were empty again and he was far from Ancadal's sight, Haldir walked out onto a high terrace that stood close to the elvish gardens favored by the Queen and so boasted of by the King. He leaned his elbows on the cool stone, relishing in the feel of the cool breeze against his nightmare-heated skin.
He did not close his eyes, afraid of what he would see behind them but left them open to the night. An owl hooted somewhere nearby and the skittering of what might have been a spider in the undergrowth reached his ears. But for that, the night was quiet. The faint scent of lavender drifted up to him from the darkness and Haldir breathed it in deeply- the sweet scent calming his jangled nerves.
His thoughts turned inward to Legolas with the familiar fragrance. He hoped the little prince was all right- safe and warm in his room, away from his uncle's ruthless clutches. But, his heart ached for his young friend.
"Commander? What are you doing out here at this hour?"
Haldir turned, wondering how many more surprises he could take this night and suddenly embarrassed to find himself facing the Queen of Mirkwood, wrapped in a white embroidered robe and a paler visage. The dark honey of her hair- so like her brother's- sparkled in the moonlight as she glided up to him, taking in his bedraggled appearance and the sword girded at his hip.
"It seems everyone is restless this night," Haldir remarked dryly. Anariel smiled sadly and looked out over the gardens.
"Yes," she agreed simply. Haldir cast a sideways glance at her.
"What troubles your sleep, Lady?" he asked quietly. Anariel sighed.
"Old memories," she admitted with a sad, half-smile that did not dare light her beautiful countenance. "And yours, Commander?" Haldir's lips lifted in the parody of a smile as he ran his hands over the embossed gold of Cálivien's sword- his sword.
"New ones." The Queen's compassionate countenance softened with sadness as she looked at his downcast face.
"You feel as though you failed him," she guessed shrewdly.
His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes against the burning in the back of his throat.
"I did."
Ignoring formal protocol, she reached out and placed a compassionate hand on his shoulder, drawing his eyes.
"That was no fault of yours- you could not have prevented your friend's… death," she said softly, unused to speaking such a word in reference to an elf.
"I suppose no more than you could have prevented Legolas' injuries…" Haldir trailed off. The Queen's brow darkened.
"His riding accident?" She smiled slightly. "Children will be reckless."
Haldir blinked in surprise.
"Riding?" He turned sharply to stare at her. "You don't know?" At her bemused look, he ran a bewildered hand through his ragged hair.
"I-I thought Legolas would surely have told you…" Anariel's face whitened a shade and her eyes hardened.
"What happened? What happened to my son, Commander?" Her grip tightened on his arm. Haldir glanced at her, searching her face. He frowned slightly, hesitating. There was no reason she shouldn't know- she had every right to know! And yet, Haldir had promised to Legolas that he would say nothing. Haldir shook his head slowly, his decision made.
He told her. Almost everything- he left out the truly grisly parts as her face grew so white he feared she might collapse. She leaned on his arm now. When he finished, she was silent for a long moment, her eyes unfocused. She shook herself at last and looked up at him, her angelic mien ghostly in the moonlight.
"You know of what you speak- it is a serious offense," she said quietly. Haldir looked her straight in the eye and she had her answer. But still, she shook her head firmly, yet unwilling to believe it of her own kin.
"My- my brother wouldn't dare hurt my child. He- he-" she faltered, horror rising in her eyes as realization dawned on her. Legolas had been so quiet! So subdued. He wouldn't talk or eat… His wrist…
"You have been deceived, my Lady," Haldir said softly into the spiraling silence. The Queen shook her head, her hands clasping her ears as though she wished to block out his words that she refused to believe though in her mother's heart, she knew. Had always known. Something was and had been very, very wrong for a long time.
"Legolas has been hurt- and badly- by someone you trusted, I know," Haldir said gently, touching her forearm. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she folded suddenly into his arms soundlessly. Haldir awkwardly wrapped his arms around her as she clung to him. He could feel her tears soaking into his tunic. After a while, she sniffed and withdrew embarrassingly from him.
"Now you know how I feel," she said quietly with a small, wry smile. "I, too, am guilty." Abruptly, she took a step back and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
"Where can I find my son?"
