Chapter Twenty-Three: The Web Spins Ever Tighter

Anariel watched the blood red sun retreat slowly into a growing wrack of dark clouds, igniting their underbellies with an orange fire but giving no warmth and no cheer. Her high window in the palace overlooked her own gardens, beautiful even under a glaze of lingering frost. It had been four nights since her son had been missing and with each passing hour, Anariel felt despair creep further over her as the darkness crept further over the forest.

With her husband gone and her son, she was the only obstacle left blocking Ainan's path to becoming the absolute ruler over all of Mirkwood.

It was a frightening thought.

She felt trapped and terribly alone, knowing very well that she could end up in the dungeons or dead- Ainan had threatened her with as much. She trod a thin line and it grew thinner by the day, by the hour. She felt so helpless. Not knowing what was happening around her was tearing her apart.

A strange feeling crept over her and Anariel shivered though she didn't quite know why. Something felt very wrong- a clenched feeling in her chest that she couldn't explain. A sudden rat-tat on the door made her jump and whirl towards it, tense and apprehensive. Never mind that her brother never knocked anyway.

Slowly, she stood.

"Who is it?"

"My lady, it is I."

Anariel quickly unbarred the door to admit the young soldier that had been placed in charge of her keeping. She smiled softly at him as he bustled into the room and set a covered platter on the table. Her lunch, no doubt. But she had no desire to eat or think of food at all and returned to staring out her dark window, thanking the young soldier vaguely for his thoughtfulness.

Rinniad shifted nervously from one foot to the other, wondering if he should go. But as he moved towards the door, he looked back at the slender woman. His best friend's mother. The Queen. A woman he and his family had known since before he could remember. The summers he and Legolas had spent together, swimming in the pond under her watchful eye, learning lore and language of their people at her feet. She was not just his liege-lady: she was like a second mother to him. And he saw the pain of her loneliness and despair as keenly as he felt his own. He missed and feared for his friends achingly. He couldn't imagine what she must be going through.

"You miss him terribly," Rinniad said quietly, noticing her abstracted look but unsure of what to say. There was nothing he could say that would assuage her despair. He sat down slowly next to her, looking at his hands twisting in his lap. "Me too."

Anariel glanced over at him, her long fair hair falling like a golden curtain about her face. She drew her arms about herself tightly as though she were cold.

"I remember holding him in my arms when he was just a little boy," she whispered quietly, her voice trembling slightly. For Elves, a child was one of the most blessed of gifts from Eru and they treasured their children dearer than their own lives. Rinniad knew the Queen would have given hers to have her son back and he felt his own throat tighten as he thought of his best friend, cold and hungry, alone, maybe hurt. Not quite sure what to do, he laid a hand on the now softly weeping elf woman's shoulder.

"Do not worry," he said, trying to find the strength in him to smile hopefully. "We will find them."

"How?" she asked tearfully, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, giving him such a look of horrible hopelessness that it smote him to the core.

Rinniad looked at her in sorrow, wishing he had an answer to give. He was saved by a knock rapping upon her door again, soft and gentle. He rose quickly and let the servant in.

"Vanima, what news?" Anariel asked urgently, grasping the young maid by the forearms as she bowed before her. The green-eyed woman shook her head sadly.

"The elves of Lórien were tried for treason and taken to the dungeons, Bereth-nin (my Queen)."

Anariel felt her heart sink in her chest at those words, closing her eyes for a moment as despair finally overwhelmed her. Their last allies were gone.

"Did you see my son?" she asked desperately at last, looking beseechingly up at the maiden.

Vanima shook her head sadly, her eyes dark, downcast.

"No, Your Majesty."

"Well, no news at least is good news," Rinniad put in, trying to sound hopeful then added more softly. "He may yet be alive."

"Did Ainan pronounce sentence on them, Vanima?" Anariel asked quietly, locking away her anguish for the time being as she mastered herself.

"He is going to imprison them until he sees fit to execute them."

Anariel's beautiful countenance hardened almost imperceptibly as she shook her head in denial.

"No. We cannot allow that to happen- whatever happens, we must do what we can for them."

"Why?" Rinniad asked, a slight frown darkening his brow as he shot a glance down at her, forgetting for a moment that he was talking to the Queen of Mirkwood.

Legolas had thought the elves of Lothlórien trustworthy but old prejudices still lingered and the younger elf wasn't ready to put his faith in them entirely. He didn't see why his beloved Queen should risk her very life trying to help those elves who might have been the cause of all of this.

"They do not deserve death unjustly," Anariel said quietly. It was not exactly a rebuke but her sharp eyes piercing his own proved to him that she guessed what he was thinking.

"We must do what we can for those we know are yet alive." She looked up at the young soldier who stood over her and saw his fierce loyalty in the depths of his green eyes as she took his hand gently.

"Do not let my brother's fair-seeming lies darken your heart against our kindred, Rinniad," she cautioned softly, giving his hand a parental squeeze. "The elves of Lothlórien have ever been our allies and friends in time of need- you are too young to remember that and it does not matter now. But what does matter is that if they are executed, our last hope will be gone and Mirkwood will fall completely into darkness. We cannot let that happen."

The younger elf was silent for a moment, absorbing her words, and nodded at last.

"Haldir told me to protect you," Rinniad said stoutly, firming his shoulders and standing up straighter. "And I'm going to do just that. You're not safe here, Your Majesty- we have to get you away from here as fast as we can. Leave Mirkwood, perhaps for Lórien…" He still looked unsure with creased brow of distrust.

Anariel raised her head proudly and shook her head with a small, sad smile.

"No, my boy. I will not leave my people nor hide like a rabbit gone to ground," she said firmly.

"But, my lady-" Rinniad protested volubly, clearly arguing against the wisdom of this. To stay in the palace meant certain death! Why could she not see that?

Anariel met his incredulous gaze calmly.

"I have lived here all my happy life. And if I must end it here, so be it." Her bright, blue gaze streaked with silver, regarded them gently though her eyes were stern, determined. "Will you help me?"

Both Vanima and Rinniad nodded.

"We will, my lady."


Haldir sat despondently in his cell with his back against the stone wall. He shifted himself slightly on the most inhospitable floor, his chains scraping as he moved. The elf closed his eyes, feeling his stomach rumble with hunger. It had long since given up its hope of being fed. His throat felt parched and dry and the thick air in this stuffy cell did nothing to alleviate his thirst or assuage the dislike of cramped spaces that had plagued him for as long as he could remember. His jaw still ached dully from when he had been struck but at least it was not broken. Haldir glanced around at his bare cell for what felt like the thousandth time since he had been deposited there.

His ears perked up suddenly as a soft sound reached his ears. He frowned; it sounded like… sobbing? Haldir leaned forward in the darkness, narrowing his keen eyes to try to see past the iron bars covering the narrow slit hole in the wooden door of his prison. But here, in this abominable lightlessness, his elven eyes could pierce nothing. And the soft crying soon faded into silence. Haldir felt a chill run through his bones and shiver his soul.

Haldir did not know how long it had been since he had been imprisoned here and wondered if Ancadal and Rameil were all right. They had all been separated after the trial and taken down other halls to other cells where they could neither hear nor speak to one another. He had no idea where they were but he prayed they fared better than he.

It was the long hours of nothing that were the worst. The waiting. Nothing happened for interminable stretches of time in which the spider wound in his neck burned, thirst tortured him and the unceasing darkness preyed dangerously on his sanity. His stomach twisted with anxiety and pain and he prayed Legolas was all right- still alive if nothing else.

A scraping at his door alerted him to someone opening his cell and he rose guardedly to his feet. The elf that entered was young, not much younger than Haldir- a solider obviously but a callow one. Haldir stepped forward cautiously, his rattling chains alerting the other to his movement. The guard looked up sharply, his brows drawn together in consternation as he eyed the older elf with what seemed to be fear. Haldir's own frown deepened as he eyed the length of braided leather coiled in the other's hand.

"I am to be flogged?" Haldir questioned calmly in quiet outrage. The sentinel's face remained implacable and Haldir wondered what lies he had been told for him to comply with this. The Eldar did not treat each other such and to do so was a grave offense.

"I am here to see if you wish to confess to your crimes against the King and admit your guilt freely."

"And if I wish to do no such thing?" Haldir retorted, already knowing what the cost of his defiance would be. But he would not lie to escape punishment; it was beneath him. The sentinel shrugged helplessly, raising the whip in his hand.

"It is King Ainan's orders."

"Ainan is not the King," Haldir reminded him softly, cool fire in his eyes. The guard's face hardened as he shook his head vehemently, a hint of black anger and fear breaking his façade.

"He might as well be. To deny him is to invite death- I cannot disobey a direct order." The elf reached for him. Now Haldir knew he had at least been threatened with torment or worse.

"You do not want to do this," Haldir said quietly, stepping back.

For a moment, hesitation and dismay warred with duty on the elf's fair face but then he mastered himself and took a few more steps towards the prisoner.

"Please," he entreated, his eyes begging the other elf. "-if you could just-" He gestured that the older elf was to turn around. But Haldir was not going to make this easy for him and merely blinked calmly.

"Please," the guard pleaded, casting a longing glance at the closed door as though wishing he could run through it and not look back. Haldir remained unmoved.

Sighing deeply with what seemed like profound frustration, the guard lashed out. The flattened knuckles of his hand caught Haldir underneath his already bruised jaw, knocking him to the ground.

Swiftly, the guard shortened the fetters by several arm lengths through the ring bolted to the wall to keep the elf on his knees. Haldir shook his head as the stun wore off and looked up at the young soldier with cool pity. The elf stared back at him, determination, fear and loathing etched on his fair face.

"I'm sorry," he offered as he raised the lash.


A dark shadow slipped down the silent stone corridors, down the age- and water-worn steps, its footsteps as light as a feather and as noiseless. With no more a sound than a moth's wings, the figure padded down the hallway swiftly, in one tightly clenched fist dangled a ring of keys.

Pausing at the end of a long, dank hall where moisture dripped from the damp walls and sputtered in the nearly extinguished torches, the faint silhouette grated a key in the lock of a heavy wooden door, slid back the bolt and tugged it open.

Rameil raised his head, squinting in the suddenly bright light that pierced the darkness he had lain in for what seemed like a lifetime. He tensed automatically, still feeling the pain of the unjust lashes he had received not long enough ago. The only other reason someone would be opening this door would be to feed him, but that, somehow seemed unlikely.

"Who are you?" he asked hoarsely as the silhouette slid into the room and shut the door halfway, leaving a sliver of light stabbing the deep darkness of the prison.

"Shh," the whispered caution came from unseen lips as the figure bent down and loosened his shackles. He slipped his wrists from the restraints and rubbed the chafed limbs thoughtfully as he looked up into his rescuer's shadowed face. But the figure moved away from his searching gaze and instead took something from the belt girded at its hip, handing it to him.

Suspecting that his intuition about this mysterious elf was right, Rameil took the flask and upended it, rewarded by the sweet taste of clear spring water as it ran down his parched throat.

The figure did not raise its eyes to the torchlight but kept the hood lowered over its face as it spoke.

"Find your friends. But you must make haste," the soft voice said quietly, sounding almost feminine in nature. "You do not have much time." Rameil looked up at his rescuer in amazement as he handed the drained decanter back, gratitude and relief shining in his eyes.

"Thank you."

"There will be allies waiting for you should you escape from here- they will find you. But you must hurry now." There was a determined glint in the eyes that looked down at him.

He nodded and thanked the elusive apparition again as the figure passed him the keys and as quickly as it had come, it was gone, out the door and up the stairs with scarcely more than a whisper like a fading dream.


Haldir lay on the floor of his prison, breathing raggedly. His back burned and he could feel the dried blood congealing slowly on his skin. He lay against the cold stone, waiting for his muscles to cease their trembling before he tried to move. Pain poured through him like scalding water as he pressed his sweat-streaked brow to the cool floor.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his knees and stayed there, crouched on the flagstones. He raised his head only when the door opened and turned with difficulty, the bitter taste of fear flooding his mouth as he shied away from this new terror.

Ainan, himself, stepped through the doorway. He swept into the room, flanked by two of his own guards, dressed in impeccable dark green velvet. He eyed the horrific lash marks on the elf's back with mild curiosity as Haldir fought against the two guards restraining him but his back gave a particularly violent twinge and he stilled.

"He was gentle then," Ainan remarked. Motioning for the guards flanking him to bring the elf to his feet, the evil tyrant smiled.

"Well, I hope you have reconsidered your position, captain," he voiced the title with gentle irony. "Perhaps you wish to confess yourself now and save yourself a lot of pain?"

His open, taunting grin grated on the elf captain's pride and Haldir straightened his shoulders determinedly with the rigidity that had been drilled into him over his millennia of warrior training. He would not give in so easily. They could break his body but they could not quell his spirit. He met the wicked elf's burning gaze squarely, allowing no hint or flicker of pain to cross his face. Ainan's smile only broadened at this show of defiance.

"No?" He mocked silkily as he turned away. "Perhaps another little dose of pain would change your mind."

Despite his will, Haldir's face drained of color. He did not think he could take another beating so soon. His wounds had only just stopped bleeding! Ainan's cruel chuckle proved that he had guessed the other elf's thoughts. He beckoned to the soldiers gripping Haldir's arms.

"Bring him."

Haldir did not struggle- knowing it was useless and he would only exhaust his waning strength further. They descended deep into the very bowels of the castle, past the silent dungeons towards the cellars. Haldir grew puzzled as he was led towards what appeared to be a storage room. He was thrown to the ground roughly with his wrists once more shackled together. The guards removed themselves as Ainan motioned them away.

Haldir looked around at the walls environing him. It was a plain, stone chamber- only about ten feet wide and half as many across. Placed at intervals around the room were candles in what appeared to be brackets fixed into stands.

Ainan, noticing the other elf's scrutiny, smiled uncaringly as he approached one such round, bowl-shaped lantern in which a candle burned. From his sleeve, he took what looked like a matchstick but longer and no thicker than a needle, with the tip wrapped in stringy, gossamer-like threads. He laid the tip in the fire, inhaling shallowly as it sizzled and gave off a faint smoke and perfume.

"It smells sweet, does it not?" he remarked lightly, walking around the bound elf as he lit at least a dozen tapers and slipping the white coated sticks inside each. "It is a small thing," he continued. "-a wonder for relaxation." Another candle flared as the wick ignited.

Haldir felt a thrill of uneasiness zing through him. Ainan was certainly not doing this for his relaxation and Haldir knew it could be nothing good. As though reading his mind, Ainan spoke.

"It can only be found in the depths of the forest." Ainan turned towards the door, then, almost as an afterthought glanced over his shoulder at his captive. "-though it is not usually supposed to be managed in such large amounts. I don't quite know what it will do. We'll just have to see won't we?" He grinned malignantly, a slender hand on the latch of the door.

"I hope you enjoy it, Haldir. My guards went to a lot of trouble to procure it from the spiders that made it."

The elf's malicious laughter rang hollowly in Haldir's ears as the heavy door banged shut behind him.


The tearing pain in his back and the growing ache in his limbs and neck had long since made him sick. He could no longer feel his hands below the wrists and the tearstains had dried on his face as he stared numbly at the floor, unable to think except about the throbbing pain piercing his entire body. His long golden hair had come loose of his braids and dangled freely, clinging to the dried blood and sweat on his temples.

Legolas thought that at least now his uncle would unshackle him and allow him to go now that he had been sufficiently punished. But as the hours passed, Legolas began to wonder if his uncle was coming back at all though he was thankful for the respite from the pain. He sniffed and shivered in the damp draft against his bare skin. He couldn't remember ever seeing this part of the palace before and as his blue eyes roamed the faintly illuminated room he caught sight of the statuesque figure standing in the corner.

The dark elf had been watching him for some time now. He did not speak a word only stared with those bright, alarming eyes. Legolas kept his own fastened on the floor, not liking the way the other stared as though he were trying to pry into the prince's mind and read the thoughts hidden there.

The uncomfortable silence did not last long however as the door opened once again and Ainan entered, a small satisfied smile on his face. As he drew closer, Legolas noticed a sweet scent clung about him and the prince wrinkled his nose, not liking it one bit.

Ainan paused, gazing into his nephew's pain-hazed eyes.

"Have you had enough, Legolas? I trust you will consider next time before you try to run from me."

The prince nodded as well as he could with the collar stapling him to the stone.

"Yes, Vedhir," he croaked, his voice husky from screaming. Legolas knew his uncle would not be satisfied until he heard an admission.

Ainan stood illuminated by a single candle cupped in his long fingers. For a moment, the elf stood regarding his nephew silently. His golden hair gleamed in the flickering candlelight as the orange glow washed across his hard-planed face, glittering in his silver-blue eyes as sinister as a snake's and unblinking.

"Do you weary of this, nephew? Is your little home away from home not fitting for you?" Ainan mocked softly. "I think I will allow you to return to your dear mother- she misses you terribly you know. But before I do so, you must promise me that you will say nothing of course of our venture here to her."

Legolas looked up with wide eyes hardly able to believe his ears. But still he wondered if this was another one of his uncle's twisted games, a ploy to give him false hope and further shatter his spirit. His head spun with a mixture of quivering relief that threatened to burst him asunder and horrible confusion. He couldn't tell if his uncle was lying or not. Ainan was confusing him now. Why free him?

"What about my friends? What about Lóthmir and Haldir? My father?" he asked tremulously, fearing another beating if his uncle found his questions impertinent but his uncle needed him for something or he surely wouldn't be offering the prince his freedom. Ainan merely smiled.

"I will, of course, release them as well- in good time- when they have paid their dues." This was a lie of course though well hidden. It didn't need to be either; Legolas was so willing to believe him- to be free of this hellish prison he would have believed anything.

Legolas knew something bad was going to happen but he couldn't figure out what his uncle wanted. He was cold and far beyond exhaustion; his back hurt abominably and he just wanted to go home. The thought of seeing his mother again pulled at his aching heart

"Of course if you wish to stay, I can always arrange something," Ainan flicked the ever-present whip at the young prince's face maliciously.

Legolas hurriedly shook his head.

"No, uncle. Please… no more," he whimpered, unable to cope with even the thought of another repetition of last night- not when he still hurt so much. With his eyes closed, Legolas missed the gleam that sparked in his uncle's eyes.

Legolas lifted his head after a moment and opened his eyes, blinking away his tears.

"I promise. I-I want to go home, Vedhir."

"Of course you do." Ainan smiled conciliatingly, enjoying the pitiful longing he saw behind his nephew's eyes. "I will come for you in the morning. Your mother will worry for you tonight," he said quietly. "But do not fear, I shall comfort her until tomorrow."

"Goodnight, tôrion. Mind the rats," he chuckled as he turned away.

Smiling wickedly to himself, Ainan turned his attention to the dark elf watching warily in the shadows.

"Clean him up and see that he does not die on us," he added, handing Tindómëtir the keys. The dark-haired elf nodded, smirking slightly. The golden-haired elf leveled a cool stare at his subordinate.

"And do not touch him. Do you understand?"

Again Tindómëtir bowed his head in obeisance.

The door closed behind his uncle and Legolas trembled slightly. He feared this elf nearly as much if not more than his uncle. The sheer unrestrained violence in the elf's eyes frightened him almost beyond endurance especially in his present condition when he knew he could take no more pain.

And now he was alone with him.

The dark elf gave the young prince a sidelong glance before walking over to a shadowed corner and retrieving white bandages and a bucket of water lying near the wall that the golden-haired prince had not seen until now. Legolas watched him carefully, waiting with tensed muscles and baited breath.

The shocking cold revived the young elf a little and he raised his head, shivering fitfully as the chill air of the cell struck his heated flesh. Water mixed with blood coursed in tiny rivulets down his body and pooled onto the stone floor. Tindómëtir tossed aside the dripping bucket and it thudded on the stone, rolling sluggishly into a corner.

Legolas shook his wet hair out of his face as the dark-haired elf reached up and the locks holding the prince's wrists and neck in their cutting manacles loosened and fell away. Unused to the loss of support, he slumped against the wall, feeling strangely lighter but his wrists were raw and chafed, rubbed red by the horrible chain. His legs shook so badly he could not stand and he buckled to the floor, collapsing limply like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Tindómëtir immediately knelt beside him and began to wash the wounds clean bandaging several of them. They could not afford blood spots on the prince's clothes. Other injuries needed to be stitched and Legolas braced himself as the other elf threaded a needle with catgut. The dark elf was not gentle and Legolas muffled his whimpers and gasps of pain as he sewed up the deeper wounds his uncle had opened in his back.

"Why do you do this?" Legolas asked more to distract himself from the pain than want of receiving any real answer. Tindómëtir tightened the bandage on his arm with a tense jerk. He said nothing. A wisp of his shadowy hair slid over the prince's shoulder as he bent down to look more closely at the younger elf's back in the dim light and Legolas noted a red, circular mark burned into his flesh on the side of his neck- it looked like a weal but smaller. And again that cloying scent clogged his nostrils and made him want to sneeze but with difficulty, he forced it away.

"You believe you are the only one who has suffered."

Legolas started as the elf actually spoke in a raspy voice as though seldom used or continually rough with pain but then his words registered and the prince looked away. But something drew him and he found himself looking up into the dark elf's fathomless eyes.

"You do not know true pain, little one," Tindómëtir whispered softly, looking down at him, his face mask-like and still as the stone walls around them.

This time, Legolas wrenched his gaze away with a gasp as Tindómëtir thoughtfully traced a bloody slash inflicted on the young elf's shoulder blade, ignoring his hiss of pain. He smiled sickeningly as he eyed the blood on his fingertip.

"You scream louder than your father did, Legolas." He laughed chillingly as he rose and once again secured the prince's chafed wrists in their fetters. Legolas craned his neck up and, looking into those eyes, saw what he could become in those burning depths. The dark elf did not flinch from his gaze but twisted away from him, kicking the bucket aside as he slipped out the door.

Legolas watched as the heavy oak portal slammed closed and dragged him back into darkness. The lock scraped into place with a rusty click and the prince's golden head fell between his shoulders as he sobbed unrestrainedly. He felt the heavy darkness around him as though shadows smothered him on all sides, a thick, choking miasma that threatened to suffocate him.

And he began to shake.

Trying to force his thoughts away from his pain and fear of the darkness, he closed his eyes. He was going home tomorrow. His uncle was letting him go home, that's all he had to remember. He would see his mother's smiling face tomorrow and she would hug him and tell him she loved him and…

Legolas suddenly opened his eyes again, despite the darkness that blinded his eyes open or closed. Would she? What if she had learned what had happened to his father, her husband? What if his uncle had told her what had happened- what her son had done? She would think it was all his fault. Legolas' stomach clenched in sudden fear and shame. She would blame him surely…

Legolas cast his head down, allowing his blood matted hair to slide over his shoulders as the tears dripped down his face to mingle with the sweat cooling on his brow, feeling, if possible, far worse than when his uncle had beaten him.


The room slowly drifted in and out of focus- hazy and dreamlike. The walls moved. Haldir coughed and blinked through streaming eyes. How many hours had worn away since he had been locked in this horrible prison? He couldn't be sure anymore. The wispy smoke had crept ever closer to the floor and slowly filled all the room. The sweet scent had long ago sickened his stomach.

Haldir lay flat on the floor with his mouth pressed as close to the door as his manacles would allow him as he tried to figure out what to do. For surely he would die in here if he did not find a way. But thinking had become so very difficult- his thoughts wandered and tripped over themselves, running around in circles until they collapsed into nothingness.

The world seemed to be slowly spinning and Haldir squeezed his eyes shut until the dizziness passed and the floor no longer rocked beneath him like the deck of a ship. Everything seemed so hazy. Haldir weakly tried to push himself closer to the door where fresh air might be pouring in through the chinks between the wood and stone. He tried to reach it but in vain. His arms felt heavy as lead.

As his forehead hit the floor, Haldir wondered idly if this was the way he was supposed to die- trammeled like an animal in a cage, choked to death on another elf's poison. He couldn't give in now! He had to find Legolas! And the King! If he did not escape, the entire palace of Mirkwood would be in jeopardy, Haldir thought desperately as a last attempt to wake himself up.

But even these thoughts faded with his consciousness as the blackness swirled in.