Chapter Twenty-Eight: Loyalty Divided

They slipped through the shadows and the dark ways of the palace. Few knew of these corridors and it was the safest way the Queen could think of to get them at least out of the palace for a little. She went herself, despite the danger. No other could she trust to this task. Before them a small arched door was set well into the stone wall, shielded from sight until one actually came upon it. It was here they waited anxiously for news.

"Your Majesty!" A voice gasped, the door creaking open from the outside unexpectedly. A blast of cold air followed after it before the shadowed figure slipped inside and shut it behind him.

Anariel spun about as Rinniad stumbled and nearly fell into her arms. His face was scratched, his tunic torn and dirtied.

"My father came. They're here," he hissed in a frantic whisper that only she could hear. "They're awaiting your orders."

"Go to them, Rinniad. Wait with the others," Her gaze flickered to Rameil and Ancadal who stood watchfully by.

"Go with him. Assemble them as well as you may- I will be there shortly."

"Will you be all right?" Rameil asked, lingering in the doorway. She nodded brusquely and shoved him out into the cold, locking the gate quickly behind her before hurrying back up towards the living corridors.

Unseen and unheard, a thin shadow detached itself from the wall, gazing down the passage the Queen had gone.

Fools, he thought. They were playing right into his hands.


Anariel stole furtively down the halls to her rooms to gather her cloak. The passages were empty and silent but she could practically feel the eyes itching along her skin. She knew they watched her every move, waiting for her to give them any reason to get rid of her. She was thankful when she at last reached the sanctuary of her chamber.

She closed the door behind her and turned the key in the lock, taking a deep steadying breath as she tried to calm her shaking hands. There was more than one way out of her chambers and she would rather take that than steal through the vacant halls of her home again.

"Where have you been?"

She jumped and whirled round, her heart hammering in her chest.

A slight condescending smile on his tight-lipped face, Ainan gazed up at her from his languorous seat on the edge of her bed.

Disconcerted, Anariel answered tremulously, forcing her face to show nothing of her discomfort. She decided to play it safe and responded as close to the truth as she dared get.

"I went for a walk in my gardens."

"I summoned you and you did not come to me," he retorted.

"I-I was weary…"

"And yet you still found the energy in you to walk to the gardens and back?" he questioned lightly with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Anariel felt a chill through her soul but kept her face carefully devoid of emotion though she knew her brother would see it in her eyes. He knew her too well. Her gaze darted around the room like a bird trapped in too small a cage. She had just locked the door at her back but she dared not move now to unlock it, knowing her brother would hear and guess her intent. He rose slowly and she tensed but he moved to the fireplace which had been lit in her absence. Her ladies-in-waiting were nowhere to be seen.

Absently fiddling with the wick of a candle, Ainan faced his back to her, the flickering orange light glancing in his glittering eyes.

"You do not know what you do when you raise a hand against me." His tone was light but Anariel heard the warning in it, and the darker threat masked by it.

"I know not what you mean," she answered calmly, settling in his vacated spot and folding her hands tightly to still their trembling.

"Do you not?" He looked at her, a close, searching gaze that she turned hastily away from.

"You hold many lives in your hands, Anariel. Think. How many could be ended before this night?" he whispered softly, leaving the candle and taking a step closer to her. "How many are you willing to send to Mandos' Halls for judgment? Can you be responsible for that? For their blood on your hands?"

"I do not know what you speak of," she repeated a little more forcefully even as cold dread clutched at her heart.

"Or your son's?" he added lazily.

She stiffened.

"What have you done to my son?"

"Name me King," he rejoined as though he hadn't heard her. "If you do not dissent, the people will be more kindly disposed towards me and I shall forget the insult you have given me."

Her face flooded with indignation and rising anger. He saw it and his eyes flashed, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss.

"Refuse me, lady, and I swear to you the next time you see your son will be in Mandos' Halls."

Anariel felt her heart clench. Without her son, her kingdom was lost and yet if she gave up her people, her kingdom was still lost. How could he ask her to make such a choice?

"Your people or your only child. Love or duty. It's not a hard question, Anariel," he smiled at the obvious longing and fear that edged across her face.

"I want to see my son," she answered boldly.

His smile broadened.

"Of course."

Reaching into his sleeve, he pressed a golden lock of horrifyingly familiar hair into her palm. She stared at it for a long moment, her blue eyes filling with tears but she forced them back and looked up into his implacable face.

"Where is my son?" she demanded coldly, her face a mask of fury.

"You are so very beautiful when you are angry, dear sister," he remarked as he cupped her cheek. She threw him off and rose, eyes blazing, a she-panther closing in for the kill.

"Where is he, Ainan?"

Ainan smirked openly.

"He is safer than you are, little mother. Mostly."

She lunged at him but he was ready for her, stepping nimbly aside with an agility that belied his long and heavy robes. As he caught hold of her wrist, he threw her onto the bed and seized her shoulders, pinioning her arms to her sides with his knees, effectively trapping her beneath him. For a fleeting instant, she stared up at him and real fear shone in her eyes.

His golden hair hung about his shoulders, falling into his burning eyes and brushing her cheeks. She closed her eyes, her entire body rigid.

Suddenly her wrist flashed up, a dagger snapping out. He leapt aside like a cat, dropping to the floor and rolling to his feet in one swift movement. As she quickly sprang up with the bed between them, she could have sworn she had heard him hiss at her.

He leapt towards her clear over the bed and struck her hard across the face before she could bring up her weapon to defend herself. She reeled and fell heavily, cracking her head on the wooden dresser before crumpling to the floor. He immediately kicked the blade into a corner far from her reach.

But she did not move.

Ainan calmly lowered his arm, shaking his head slowly, chest heaving. She should have listened to him. Blood ran from just beneath her split temple where it had hit the corner of the dresser. Gently, he brushed back a lock of golden hair that had fallen across her face while his fingers searched her neck for a pulse. He straightened in satisfaction. She would live. He gazed down at her limp body coolly, adjusting his rumpled sleeve a little.

"Then you refuse."


There was a murmur of confusion in the air. Many of the elves had just returned from their posts and knew little or nothing of what had been happening of late. They waited under the silver moon in a wide clearing chased by cloud shadows as the trees creaked in the bitter wind.

"The last news we received from the palace was to stay at our posts and search for our King." Sarithan, the captain of the border guard, told Rameil in a low, anxious voice.

"The King is here- imprisoned in his own palace. Ainan has turned recreant against us."

Sarithan stared at him in disbelief for a full moment then cast his glance away thoughtfully. When he raised his head, his eyes were hard and flinty.

"What must we do?"

Other soldiers stood nearby, uneasy and gripping the hilts of their swords or the hafts of their bows.

"Where is she?"

"She has not come."

The Queen had been gone for a long while now. Too long. Apprehension gripped his stomach as Ancadal paced nervously back and forth. The night-chilled wind blew cold right through his tunic, biting with a fierceness that even he could feel. Silver light fell revealingly down upon them standing in the wind-swept clearing. It was too dangerous to remain out here for long but it would be even more so to try to get into the palace.

Letting Rameil take care of it, Ancadal walked away from the battery of questions and the troubled frowns. Heaving a deep breath, he looked about their temporary sanctuary, frustration at the delay boiling through his veins. He hated all of this waiting. His friend was in danger, the prince; the kingdom was falling down around them.

Breaking off his thoughts, Ancadal lifted his head and his eyes caught a flash of red among the grey pillars of the tree trunks. Creeping forward silently through the thigh length grass, he drew his sword with a whisper, adrenaline humming through his veins.

"Dartho! (Halt!)" he commanded, leveling his sword at the hidden eavesdropper's neck. The figure stepped out to meet him and he lowered his sword automatically with a relieved smile.

"My lady, you come to us again in our hour of need."

Their messenger smiled a tight-lipped smile, devoid of either welcome or joy.

"Again. And at the cost of my life." The hooded woman looked up, a fiery glint of her hair sliding free of her cowl.

"I know where they are."


At first he didn't feel the warm body nestled against him. So deeply had he pulled back inside himself that it took him a disoriented minute to realize that there was another person in the room with him. Slowly, Haldir opened his eyes and immediately wished he had not as a sudden nauseating vertigo seized him. He closed his eyes again and rolled over, hissing as sharp pain bit into his back.

Feeling him shift, Legolas spun about, his face slack with astonishment.

"Haldir, are you all right? I thought…"

Haldir squinted up at him in frowning puzzlement, dazed and unsettled.

He felt horribly thirsty and his throat hurt but he couldn't remember why. Until memory flooded back as he glanced around at the bare stone floor littered with bloodstained shards. His stunned gaze returned to the young prince and shifted just as quickly away. He couldn't meet the younger elf's anxious, searching gaze.

"Can you ever forgive me, Legolas?" he asked bare-facedly in a very low voice. Legolas looked at him in shock.

"Forgive you, Haldir? What for?"

Haldir opened his mouth but shook his head. How could he even speak aloud all the things he had done? What the little prince had suffered because of him? Nothing would ever make that right. He knew it.

"I… I couldn't protect you. I promised. And I couldn't…" he trailed off, unable to trust his voice to keep steady.

He began to shake and suddenly he felt thin arms wrap around his neck as the prince threw his arms around his neck, pressing against him to try to still his awful trembling.

Legolas buried his nose into the crook of his friend's warm neck, feeling the muscles twitching under his hands. He had never seen Haldir like this- even in the cave, when they feared that he might die.

And it scared him.

Haldir closed his eyes, scooting closer to the young prince's warm body. He was so cold. So cold. Colder than any elf should be. The wind screamed through the slit in their small prison and it was warmer in the far corner but he did not want to let Legolas go.

The pain in his shoulder had receded to a dull, throbbing ache but he knew he would have to pop it back into place somehow if he ever wanted to use that arm again. He couldn't move it and he certainly couldn't ask Legolas to do it for him. The young elf had been traumatized enough already. Haldir wouldn't put him through that.

"You should forgive me," the prince murmured, still pressed against his friend's shoulder. He pulled back slightly to look up into his face, staring at the cut on the older elf's lip. Haldir laughed somewhat humorlessly.

"I've certainly had worse, Legolas," he winced as he spoke and Legolas' eyes darted down to where he could see raw striped marks on the older elf's wrists. Friction burns from the leather straps used to bind his hands.

Haldir tried to keep the roughness from his voice, attempting not to frighten the prince more than he already seemed to be. His throat was unbearably tight, attempting to choke back the muffled whimpers he felt building at the back of his throat. The bruises to his ribs, back, chest and arms were really beginning to demand his attention and he was running low on his drastically depleted energy. He could not remember a time when he had felt this tired- as though he hadn't slept in ages. But he dared not now. Those heavy blows to his head still made his vision blur and he feared that if he fell asleep, he would not awaken.

They sat silent with Legolas leaning against Haldir's uninjured shoulder. There was nothing they could do but wait. Wait for death, it seemed for Ainan would surely not let them live beyond this day.

He had won.

Legolas drifted into a half-doze at his side, despite his best efforts to remain awake. He had not slept properly in days and his exhausted, grief-weighted mind could bear no more. Haldir knew he must be completely worn out and felt mixed relief and sorrow that the prince could sleep in so horrible place like this on the hard, uncomfortable stone. The Lórien captain struggled not to fall asleep himself and found his head falling down onto his chest more than once only to be jerked upright immediately. He couldn't let his guard down. Not here. Not again.

His vigilance was rewarded nearly an hour later.

The bolt slid sharply back, startling Legolas into wakefulness. They both looked towards the portal, muscles tensing in fear and anticipation.

Tindómëtir smirked lightly but spoke no word, the blackened hardwood stick still in hand, its tip stained with dried blood.

Haldir felt Legolas shrink against him in terror and he felt his own soul shudder deeply with rage. His fear had been washed away with his blood. This elf meant to kill him but Haldir would damn himself to the Void before he let him touch Legolas.

Not again.

But a chill of absolute dread froze his limbs as another followed in after the dark elf. He felt Legolas stiffen beside him and out of the corner of his eye, saw the blood drain from the prince's face. He shifted his head back around and felt his breath catch in his chest as Ainan stared down at him with dark, glittering eyes, a long torch in his hand, his heavy robes sweeping the floor. There was a sword girded at his hip.

"Still alive I see," he remarked coolly, thrusting the torch into a bracket beside the doorway. He stepped past the hanging restraints dangling from the ceiling and Legolas quailed back, pressing close against Haldir's side. The older elf put his arm around him. Ainan laughed at this pathetic attempt and tossed his head over his shoulder at Tindómëtir.

The dark elf stalked forward and grabbed Haldir's arm, trying to wrest him from the young prince. But Legolas clung on tightly, unwilling to let him go. Snarling, Tindómëtir brought the hardwood sticking cracking down on the crook of his elbow and Legolas recoiled with a yelp. The dark elf let the stick fall again and the prince scuttled away from it, curling up in the corner as tightly as he could.

Haldir fought desperately to get at him but the pole smashed against his wounded shoulder and he jerked forward with a groan as a flash of pain ripped across his nerves like red hot knives. That was all it took. Tindómëtir seized him by the hair and dragged him backwards, wrestling him back into his leathern restraints. He strained against them but pain shot through his shoulder and he stilled his movements, trembling with anger and agony.

Ainan clapped him on the shoulder with a thin smile.

"So stalwart our Captain of Lórien."

He drew closer to the shaking form of the young prince in the corner.

"Leave him be, you coward!" Haldir spat.

Ainan ignored him but Tindómëtir gave him a reprimanding cuff.

The light-haired elf crouched beside the little prince who pressed his shoulder tightly against the wall, trying to present as small a target as possible as he shut his eyes tightly, as though by doing so he could make the threat before him disappear. Ainan clucked disapprovingly and grasped Legolas' chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing the prince to turn his head.

Legolas jerked away as though his uncle's touch burned him. Ainan glanced over at Tindómëtir who gave Haldir a hefty smack with the stick, causing him to gasp in pain.

Legolas opened his eyes, flickering to his uncle's face before darting away again.

Glancing down, he saw scarlet smearing his uncle's hands and his stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably. Ainan noticed.

"That is your mother's blood on my hands," he said quietly so that only they two could hear as he held his hands up before the prince. "And there are far worse things that could happen to her, little one, if you attempt to escape or disobey me again. Le henich? (Do you understand?)"

Legolas nodded, fear shivering his soul. He knew all too well what happened when he disobeyed.

"Good. Renich, tôrion. (Remember, nephew.)" He cut a sideways glance at Haldir and Legolas followed his gaze, his own stricken.

"It is a pity, nephew. Your callous carelessness has already cost so much," Ainan shook his head as though he were disappointed. But wicked glee kindled in his eyes. "I promised you punishment, did I not?" A small whimper caught in the back of the prince's throat and his eyes widened. He could not take anymore pain; he already felt torn in two, emotionally and physically.

Watching him under hooded lids, Ainan laid a finger to his lips thoughtfully.

"Hmmm. Whatever shall I do with you? Or perhaps…" He rose easily to his feet and paced closer to Haldir whose steel hard eyes latched onto his fearlessly. Ainan smiled at his defiance. "Perhaps, I shall have to find something fun for you. Would you like that, Legolas?" he shot a sardonic glance over his shoulder at Legolas who stared numbly back at him.

"Perhaps he will take the beating you so justly deserve."

The evil elf paced slowly round Haldir who twitched uncomfortably as he felt those eyes on him, appraising the welts and cuts on his back. Ainan's eyes widened over Haldir's shoulder and he shook his head in mock-horror.

"I don't think he'll be able to take much more."

He crouched beside Legolas again.

"You know he cares for you more than his own life," his uncle told him quietly, his dark eyes flaring. "After I have dealt with your father, I believe I shall execute him next just to see if it kills you."

"My father?" Legolas gasped, his head shooting up, frustration and horror stinging his eyes and tearing at his throat.

Ainan merely smiled and touched the prince's cheek with a bloodstained hand, swiping away the brimming tears as Legolas shied away, shuddering deeply in fear and anger and helplessness.

"Don't worry, tôrion. I shall be back for you."

He walked away, pausing at the door with a villainous smile as he turned to his servant.

"Leave them alive. I want them to witness my final triumph."

Tindómëtir prowled closer as the door swung shut behind his master, a mad light springing into his eyes as they moved to settle on the young prince who shrank away from his gaze.

"How long do you think he'll last Haldir as I break every bone in his little body?" he taunted as he swung the blackened stick carelessly. "He'll live just long enough."

"You will not touch him," Haldir snarled, though he knew he could do little with his hands bound.

Tindómëtir threw his head back and laughed so hard the stones rang.

"I will not touch him? Is that an order, Captain?" he chuckled, actually wiping tears from his eyes. "I think you will find that I give the orders here." He said, his voice sinking to a dangerous growl as he moved forward, a lethal smile on his face.

His merriment cut abruptly short as the door suddenly smashed open, rebounding off the wall.

Tindómëtir whirled, eyes wide and hand flying to the long knife at his belt.

He blocked Rameil's first stroke and shoved the elf stumbling backwards nearly out of the door. Rameil caught himself on the door post and dodged aside as the dark elf flung his knife straight at the other's face. He felt the breath of it kiss his cheek and a sharp pain erupt through his ear. But the reassuring clang of steel on stone galvanized him across the room.

Blood ran down his temple, congealing in his hair from his clipped ear but he shook it off and brought his sword around in a sideways sweep with the flat of the blade. He only wanted to immobilize the dark elf, not kill him. The King would be the judge of that.

The hard knobbed pole swung and caught the blow of the sword, turning it aside. Rameil leapt backwards as the butt end of the stick snapped out at him, catching him hard in the side and nearly spinning him around. Forcing aside the throbbing pain in his ribs, Rameil thrust his sword forward again and the dark elf leapt aside to avoid it.

Caught off-balance by the lack of resistance, Rameil stumbled forward. Thinking fast, he dropped to the ground as the pole whistled chillingly over his head. He rolled to his feet, forsaking his sword and seized a tight hold of the weapon, wrestling with its wielder for control. The other elf was lighter and smaller than he and, a sudden idea struck him.

Rameil dropped unexpectedly to one knee, yanking backwards with all of his strength while bringing his other foot up. His boot thumped solidly into Tindómëtir's chest and sent the dark elf hurtling over his head, landing with a painful thud against the wall on the further side of the room.

The Rivendell elf leapt almost immediately to his feet, twisting round to face him with his adversary's weapon in hand.

Tindómëtir staggered up, disarmed and dazed. Blood ran from a cut on his forehead where it had struck the stone and his fingers were skinned and raw. His hands worked furiously as though he longed to wrap them around the other elf's throat. A mad light sprang into his eyes as he dove for his dropped knife with a hiss. Ramiel lunged forward to shield his commander and the prince as the dark elf twisted round again. With a snarl, he thrust forward with the blade, lost to his fury.

But the pole was longer than the reach of the knife.

Rameil met him head-on and laid him flat with a hard rap. The pole smashed into the dark elf's shoulder and caught the side of his head. The crushing force snapped the pole in half and Tindómëtir's neck wrenched sharply to one side as he crumpled to the floor. Splinters dug into his palms but Rameil, tossing the weapon aside, disregarded it as he quickly undid the restraints that held his friend.

Haldir thrust aside his subordinate's helping hands and knelt beside Legolas, his wounds screaming as he did so.

"Legolas, are you all right?" he gasped, gripping the younger elf's forearms as the prince stared numbly up at him. His shocked eyes flickered towards the door as Ancadal appeared in it, his own eyes wide. He stared down at the prone elf on the floor and then back up at his friend whose chest was heaving with exertion and blood running down his cheek.

"Well done," he congratulated him.

Rameil shook his head with a small smile and wiped his face on his sleeve.

"I don't think I killed him," he said wincing as he touched his ear with a snort of disgust as he looked down at the dark elf's limp body.

"Pity."

"Your timing is impeccable," Haldir added dryly, rising to his feet with difficulty

Seeing him grimace, Ancadal grabbed his arm to help him. Haldir flinched as the younger elf's fingers pressed on a large darkening bruise beneath the skin. He was very tender and sore and felt every ache in his body. Bending stiffly, he plucked his discarded tunic from the corner, tossing it over his uninjured shoulder.

Then he turned to help Legolas up. He smiled reassuringly into the prince's white face. Ainan's treachery had betrayed him and given the prince into the hands of his enemies.

Ancadal approached him, his fair face troubled as he looked over his friend, noticing the weariness in his eyes.

"You are hurt."

Haldir shook his head, wanting but unable to turn his face away from that searching gaze and reveal more of the torment he'd endured to his friends. They'd seen enough. Been through enough. They didn't need to worry about him as well.

He fumbled with the shirt, unable to pull it on because of his shoulder. Ancadal went to his side and helped him pull it carefully over his shoulders. Haldir winced as the fabric chafed against his reopened wounds as Ancadal hissed in sympathy at the sight of the gashes and black bruises decorating his friend's back.

"There's nothing you can do for them, Ancadal," he said to the younger elf who was flittering nervously around him, examining him.

Rameil's sharp eyes caught how his friend favored his arm and he took him aside.

"But there is something we can do for that shoulder," he said quietly.

Haldir glanced over his subordinate's head to where Legolas stood in the corner, gazing at Tindómëtir's senseless body with Ancadal at his side.

"Do it quickly."

The Rivendell elf complied taking his friend's arm delicately and suddenly wrenching down and inwards.

Haldir cried out and bit his tongue to stifle it.

Legolas spun around, his eyes wide with fear and shock at his friend's cry of pain. Anxiously, he rushed to him as Ancadal spun around, confused and alarmed. Haldir shook his head, rolling his shoulder with a slight grimace.

"I'm all right, Legolas," he reassured him with a grateful glance at his friend. Rameil stepped back into the doorway and peered out into the corridor.

"There is no one there. We should go now."

Haldir nodded in agreement, picking up his sword from where Tindómëtir had thrown it, relieved that it had not been defiled or damaged.

Tindómëtir groaned softly, beginning to regain his senses. Ancadal gave him a hard kick to quiet him.

"What should we do with him, sir?" he asked. Haldir shot a glance down at the dark elf.

"Leave him. The sooner we get out of here the better."

"I can't go with you."

"What?" All three of the other elves turned to him but Legolas kept his eyes fastened on the floor.

"I can't go with you," he repeated.

"Legolas-"

"He'll kill her Haldir, I know it. He'll kill my mother!" Legolas cried out frantically, his heart pounding in his chest and his throat tight. Haldir knelt next to him, taking his upper arms soothingly.

"Legolas, he can't hurt her anymore. We won't let him." He looked steadily up into the prince's wide eyes. "But you have to trust us first. I will not leave you here."

The prince stared at him, wild-eyed.

"Haldir, my father…"

"I know, Legolas. We're going to find him. We can't give up now," Haldir spoke determinedly, praying that they would be able to find the King in time before Ainan made good on his dark promises. They only had a few hours at most. Each and every minute was precious and they were falling rapidly away like a springlet over a stone lip.