How is everyone for useless trivia? *g* Well, this chapter has not only been edited, it has been revised, completely rewritten at parts and is one thousand seventy-seven words longer than the original. I hope it's actually better. I think it is but I'll never know. *sigh*
No one has asked, but I'll tell you anyway: this fic (I think I can actually call it a novel) is 29 chapters long, incomplete. I figure, depending on how cooperative the characters are, that there's another two or three chapters to be written. I refuse to write more than 35, and even that is far too long, but. . . . I caught between conflicting desires: either to simply end it and stop my misery *g*, or write it correctly and have it flow. . . .
Which brings me to a new matter. I shall warn you know that chapter 4 might be late in coming. It depends on how well my revisions go, because I have come to the decision that it does not flow. If anyone caught my convienent omition of about a week at the end of OMaN, the one that circumvented all the healing and healers and all that, then you know about what happened between three and four. *blinks* I mean that about a week was skipped between the end of one and the beginning of the other. I have to change that because it seems like I'm starting a completely new story. Terrible. So, you've been warned.
I think that about covers it. Now, onto the fic; responses are at the bottom. I rather like that sytem now that I've started it. *g* Have fun.
(Oh, and please review. I need the encouragement. Really. I feel so guilty about slacking off in writing when I read what you guys think, so it gets everything done faster and better. Pressure, you know.)
Chapter 3
Aragorn and Legolas rode quickly into Rivendell, the sun just beginning its westward descent as they made the fair elven territory. No one challenged them as they passed and it was mere moments before they dismounted before the Last Homely House of Elrond Halfelven, lord of Imladris. It was a familiar and welcome sight that greeted them, and the last of Aragorn's unease released its hold on the young man.
As they swung down from their steeds, two elves materialized as if from nowhere and led their horses to the stables. A figure appeared at the top of the stairs, very familiar and quite welcome to the young man who viewed him. Of all the things that had changed in his short life, the elf lord was eternal, unchanging through all the dangers that passed by. At least, that was the way it seemed to the young human, and it did his heart well.
The Lord of Imladris had started down the stairs at their approach, a gentle smile curving his lips, and he met the two friends at the bottom of the stairs. Both younger beings stopped about two feet away and bowed in traditional elvish fashion. A mischievous smile played about Aragorn's face as he looked back up.
Elrond stood, watching the two friends, and raised an eyebrow as his son looked at him. The smile widened, then the human stepped forward and wrapped his father in a hug, holding him close as he felt the other's arms wrap around his back. It felt so good to be home, to have left the shadows that made him uncomfortable in this place of safety far behind. "I'm sorry, Ada," he murmured.
"There's nothing to be sorry for, my son," the elf lord replied, and after a few more moments, Elrond pulled back and rested his hands on the young man's shoulders, holding him at arms length so he could get a good look at him. "You're in one piece," he said, sounding surprised.
Legolas laughed behind him, and Aragorn could not help but smile as he glanced back at his friend. Of course, that meant the elf lord turned his attention to the prince, as well. "Welcome back to Rivendell, Legolas Thranduilion. It is a pleasure to have you back among us. And in one piece, as well."
Legolas inclined his head with a smile as Aragorn laughed. "I am glad to be here. And I couldn't very well let the young one come alone."
"And now you're stuck," Aragorn finished with a devilish smile. "The Pass is surely closed by now."
"You ventured the Pass?" Elrond asked. He gestured back towards the angry clouds that could not be seen past the lip of the valley but which the two companions had seen just before they descended. "At this time of year? With such weather threatening?"
"We rode fast."
The elf lord studied them, exasperation briefly showing on his face, then he sighed. "At least you both made it in one piece, never mind how. Now come in and get warmed up."
Obediently, the friends followed Elrond inside, and the young ranger looking around at the familiar sights--though there was one sight he had expected which did not present itself, and the worry that had fled upon his arrival started to worm its way back into his heart. Maybe they're just on a small errand, he tried to reason. After all, you sent no word. They had no reason to expect you.
He moved up closer to Elrond. "Ada, where are Elladan and Elrohir? Are they not here?"
The elf lord glanced at him, his look shadowed though the young man could not read the expression. "No," the elder answered. "They are on an errand." Then more loudlt, "Celboril, if you please."
Celboril exited the kitchens bearing a tray laden with drinks and pastries, then preceded them into the Great Hall, the fires already lit and roaring when they entered. He put the tray down on a table, then turned to the new arrivals with a critical eye.
He scanned them both, seemingly not believing what his eyes were telling him (Aragorn and Legolas, after all, we never clean when they arrived together from one of their adventures), and Aragorn resisted the urge to hold his hands out beside him and turn around. He had a feeling the elf really wanted to walk around them to be sure they were not hiding any dirt behind their backs or inside their clothes, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. A bemused expression adorned Elrond's face as he watched the servant's cool examination of his youngest and the prince.
Finally, apparently satisfied, the elf smiled. "Welcome home, young ones. Make sure you drink the tea, Estel."
"Yes, Celboril," Aragorn replied, rolling his eyes. The servant bowed out and closed the doors behind him, a "thank you" drifting to his ears just before the doors clicked shut.
Elrond crossed to the tray and picked up one of the cups. "Drink up, Estel," he bid, holding out the cup to his youngest, his eyes sparkling with the amusement he managed to hide from his face. Aragorn took the cup without argument. "And you, as well, young prince."
With a rueful smile, Legolas stepped forward and accepted his cup of tea. They sat while Aragorn hovered over the tray, picking at pastries. Both elves gave him amused glances, then the elf prince turned to Elrond. "Where did the twins go?"
Aragorn went very still. Elrond glanced marginally back towards the human before he answered. "They went on an errand to the north to deliver news to the Dúnadain."
"What news? When will they be back?" the young man asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Legolas as he munched on a sweet pastry, his tea in hand.
Elrond gave him "the look" and he slid down to sit properly. "I'm not sure. You are well?"
The young man nodded. "I am well, Ada. All better."
Deep blue eyes, a shade darker than Arwen's, stared at him, searching him for the truth, and he held the gaze, more than willing to give the elf this assurance after all the worry he had caused him. The elf lord smiled. "Good. We can talk about it later, if you wish. Now, tell me, what has happened since you left? I know you too well to think no ill befell you."
"Now, Ada--" began Aragorn, only to cut off at the elf lord's look, a look that said denial was futile because he would not believe it and would not rest until he had the full story anyway. With a sigh and a wry glance towards Legolas, the ranger began. To save time and effort, he told all, starting with the orc attack in the pass and finishing with being found by Raniean and Trelan.
When he finished, Elrond had an odd look on his face. If the ranger read it right, his father was caught somewhere between amusement and concern. Concern won out. "Estel. Let me see your hands."
The human flexed them as he presented him to his father. "I'm fine, really. King Thranduil's healers did a good job. It's Legolas you should be worried about." He cast a mischievous look at his fair-haired friend, consequently catching the dark look Legolas aimed his way.
"What does he mean?"
"Nothing, my lord," the elf prince assured. "I'm fine."
"Fine," Aragorn agreed, still grinning, "except that he will never be able to show his face in Mirkwood again." The human laughed. "Mayhap Durin will accept him at the Lonely Mountain. They're connected, after all."
Legolas growled at the human, but Elrond interceded before he could jump his friend. "What is he talking about, Legolas?"
"A tattoo," the elf admitted with a sigh. "It's gone now."
"It was made with tar," Aragorn volunteered more quietly, his expression serious and his eyes guilty. Legolas had not told him about that particular injury. It had taken an inquisition of the healers to discover it, prompted by the tender favor the elf prince had gifted to the arm for nearly a week afterward and his repetitve trips to the healers. "By that woman."
Elrond frowned at his human son, noting the abrupt shift, seeing the shadows that crossed his eyes. He glanced at the elf, noting he was uncomfortable and leaned forward. Perhaps a change in subject was in order, for now. "You said her name was Kaialian?"
Aragorn nodded, prying his gaze up from his hands. Legolas asked, "Do you know her?"
"Hers is an interesting tale," the elf lord began slowly, his gaze distant. It was disturbing to find out that she was responsible for causing his son and his friend pain. He had hoped she had disappeared to come to terms with what had happened. "It started long ago."
"How long is 'long,' exactly?" Legolas questioned with an amused glance at his human friend, one that was returned wryly, the reference a familiar and long-standing joke about the different perceptions of time between the two races.
Elrond chuckled slightly. "Roughly five hundred years."
"But she is human, Ada," Aragorn insisted. "How was she even still alive?"
"Sorcery," Elrond answered. "The race of Men have long desired to live as long as the Eldar, to cross to Valinor or remain forever with dominion over their race, free to gather power for all time. The Kings of Númenor started it long ago, and the Nine followed, accepting the Rings of Power, and fell into Shadow, but it did not stop with them. Others sought immortality, and there were those who were willing to help, those with the power to do so, who would see souls locked eternally in torment."
"What does that have to do with Kaialian?" Legolas asked, frowning slightly. "Surely she did not seek immortality. She was crazy, certainly, but I did not think she had always been so."
"No, she did not." Elrond fell silent, his eyes dark as he contemplated the past. Aragorn glanced at Legolas, who shrugged slightly. Neither had expected the story would upset the elder elf. Both waited, eyes never leaving distant blue. "There was a time when she had scorned those who sought such things through unnatural means. She had all she wanted in her family. They were her life. That was her downfall."
"What happened?"
"She lost everything she had ever counted dear," Elrond answered. "War came from the north and the Dúnadain went forth to meet it and drive it back. Mannyn, her husband, and Kaiman, her son, went with them, determined to protect her and the other women and children from the encroaching shadow. Years passed and the battles continued, driven on by hate and anger, for the people out of the north had long held ill favor for the Númenóreans they felt had displaced them, and their passions were flamed by the Dark Lord's minions, seeing in them a way to weaken their enemies. She was left to wonder after her family. None could be spared to bare messages to love ones in distant lands, lest the presence be missed and ill befall them.
"Mannyn was counted a strong and gifted warrior among his people and led the Dúnadain with him in relentless attack against their foes, pushing them back time and again, only to be swept back. Finally, after much time and effort, they succeeded in pushing their enemies back and secured a hold they could defend. It was in the final battle that he fell and his son took up the mantle of leadership. Too late, some reckon, Aragorn," his eyes flickered in amusement to his human son, "the First arrived with more aid, but his arrival brought an end to the war and all was won. Those who remained, who had survived, were free to return home, victorious.
"Kaiman remained behind to help care for the dead. In the confusion and joy over victory, the rest of his people forgot Mannyn's son yet lived, and bore back to their village Mannyn's sword and tidings of his fall, bringing no word of her son. They assumed. . . . Of her son, she assumed the worst since he had not brought back his father's possessions and it was long ere he returned to his home, having fallen in love with another of his kin from a different village while he was away and pledged himself to her in troth.
"When he returned to his home, intending to announce his good news to his mother, all had moved on and Kaialian had left her people to find a new place, free from her grief. It did not work as she took it with her, and she could find no relief from the pain. Kaiman could not find her, for she left no word, and went instead back to his wife, where she bore him a son. He was named Marryn, and in his time continued his line." Elrond paused.
Aragorn took the opportunity to interject a question. "Does that mean she might have been saved?" He could not imagine what it must have been like to lose everyone, to be stuck with that grief. It was strange to look at his torturer as a tortured being, strange and uncomfortable. It was tragic to think that it all could have been averted if only she had not hidden.
"One can always change, my son," Elrond replied softly. "She lost her husband to the war, but she lost her son to her own grief. It twisted her fair heart and turned her against her own. Hatred festered and grew within her, resentment towards all men, the males of her race, for taking her love from her, for hurting her. Deep in her heart, she determined all men deserved to be hurt as she had, and she first set out to seduce them so she might betray their love. Years passed and seasons changed, and soon that was no longer enough for her. She sought out other means, but she was advancing in years and her beauty failing.
"She was sought out by a sorcerer of great power. He promised her eternal beauty and eternal life. She could work her revenge through the ages. Blinded by grief and anger, she could not be dissuaded, though some tried, and she accepted his gift and returned in form to the height of her beauty. She was young again, and moved once more in search of her next victim." Elrond stood, then, and poured himself some more tea. "And that is where she fell from the knowledge of the wise."
Legolas shifted. "What did he give her?"
"The Stone of Life, often forged into a necklace, to be worn by its bearer forevermore. Once accepted, the stone can never be removed, the gift irreversible. She was doomed to spend the rest of eternity in her tortured existence. The stone feeds off the energies that prompted its acceptance, trapping her in her desire for vengeance, her desire for pain and blood. Before long, she would no longer have wanted it; she would have needed it, required it to go on, consumed by it and unable to die if she was denied." Sad blue eyes regarded the two before him. "Taking what was never meant to be held has dreadful consequences that endure. It is never worth the sacrifice."
Aragorn leaned back, overwhelmed by what he had just learned. Legolas sat staring into the fire, attempting to contemplate what horror could have possibly pushed that woman into such a life, and found it quite difficult, the pain so sharp. Aragorn felt he knew. He shook his head of dark thoughts. "What about her son? Does his line still continue?"
The elf lord jerked his thoughts back from wherever they had wandered and regarded his human son. "A son was born to each in succession for the last five hundred years. They used to live near here, in the north past the Shire, but Nairyn moved a few years ago ere you were born and took his son with him."
"Who was his son?" Legolas asked.
"They called him Jans."
Aragorn and Legolas exchanged startled looks.
*~*~*~*~*
A grunt escaped Elladan's lips as he hit the ground hard, his hands unable to catch his weight as they were still secured tightly behind his back. His left arm protested fiercely, and a thud next to him heralded Elrohir's arrival. Both rolled and pushed themselves to their feet, stumbling slightly as they attempted to get their feet to bear them, their minds working faster than their bodies could obey.
The twins ran quickly across the uneven ground before them, not entirely sure where they were going though they had traveled these lands before and not particularly choosy, so long as it got them away from their captors.
The land dipped, then climbed, and a small hill rose out of the ground before them. Small flowers, colored in various shades of pink, yellow, and white, blanketed the area, but they were more a hindrance than anything else. With winter in full swing, the flowers were wilting, and their graceless sprint through their midst left a clear trail behind them for their captors to follow.
The sound of rapid hoof-beats behind them drifted to their ears, and the elves attempted to speed their pace, hoping to find some land that would offer better shelter before they were found. Neither was entirely sure what their captors wanted, the men not particularly talkative in the days they had spent with them, but both knew they did not want to be subjected to their mercy. Foreboding whispered at the back of their minds.
They rounded a fairly tall and steep embankment and darted down a rocky valley, their steps pounding against the stone in the silence. Elrohir slipped, and Elladan halted, backtracking to his brother's side. The younger elf shook his head, but the elder ignored him and did his best to help his younger brother to his feet. If they could gain a little time, they could remove the ropes, but they could not take the risk of pausing long enough to accomplish the task with pursuit so close behind them. With Elrohir back on his feet, they continued running.
A rushing roar, long familiar to the twins, could be heard before them, and their pace quickened as they approached the Brandywine, hoping to find their salvation in some way, shape, or form around the riverbank.
What they did not count on was a welcoming party.
Both elves skidded to a halt, slipping as their balance shifted and the ground gave way before their momentum, but they managed to maintain their footing and face their adversaries still standing. Wide eyes took in their surroundings, noting they had no hope of overcoming the force arrayed before them. Automatically, they turned back the way they had come.
The remaining members of the group rode forward on horseback, cutting off any thoughts of escape in that direction. Reluctantly, they held still as both sides converged. The leader, a man they knew as Conyc, swung down off his horse as four people moved forward and grabbed their arms. He approached them, a sneer on his face.
"So eager to escape our company, are you?" he asked. "Without repaying us for our hospitality?"
Elrohir fixed the man with a level stare. "Your 'hospitality' leaves much to be desired, Human."
Conyc stepped closer, the same cocky smile the elves had grown used to adorning his face. "But you can't leave yet, Elf. My Master wishes to speak with you. It's not polite to keep him waiting."
"Kidnapping isn't exactly considered 'polite,' you know," Elrohir rejoined, garnering a casual glance from the man before them. "Most people consider it downright rude."
"I can guarantee you'll be quite . . . interested, in what he has to say," Conyc stated, his voice silky. "And until then, you'll just have to put up with our hospitality a bit longer. No more running away." His smile became wicked, then he turned his back on them. "Take care of them," he ordered, then swung back up on his horse.
Where the first blow came from, Elladan could never quite say, but they came hard and fast with nary a break, and soon he had no need to worry about any of those things. He had no need to worry about anything.
*~*~*~*~*
Aragorn's mouth dropped open. He could not have heard right, could he? Legolas had told him about Jans, the man who had distracted Kaialian while his friend tried to get him to safety. "It could not be the same one," he said, glancing questioningly at his father.
Elrond looked at them. "I could not say."
The human looked back at his friend. "But if they were related, they were but meters from each other the entire time."
Legolas shook his head, his expression sad even as his voice was wry. "If we did not know before, this proves it: the Valar have a wicked sense of humor."
The ranger overcame his shock enough to lean back and grin. "Must be where Elves get theirs from," he muttered playfully, then dodged the blow to his head that Legolas aimed his way, laughing slightly. It felt odd to laugh after what he had just learned.
"Watch it, human," Legolas warned, a dangerous glint in his eyes that Aragorn recognized easily. He grinned cockily.
Before he could open his mouth, Elrond intervened. "Did you two have lunch?"
"No, Ada," Aragorn answered. "We decided not to stop."
"Aragorn was too cold," Legolas added, a wicked smile on his face. The ranger glared at him, their positions now switched.
"Come," Elrond bid, doing his best to ignore the friends' antics and turned to leave the room. "There is more to be had than tea and pastries. We can continue our discussion over lunch."
Still bantering lightly, Aragorn and Legolas followed the elven lord out of the room and down the hall, turning into the kitchen and through it into the smaller dining room used when it was just the family and was too cold to eat outside (a practice which had only been in existence since Aragorn had arrived, as the cold did not bother the elves). They seated themselves, and food was brought in shortly thereafter.
Aragorn smiled gratefully at the elf who placed a plate of sliced meats and cheese before him, earning a smile in response. Elrond placed his elbows on the table and regarded both younger beings with a stern gaze. "I will, of course, want to examine both of you. I know you too well to think you would be honest with me about your aches and ills."
Dark gazes were exchanged, but both elf and ranger knew it would do no good to protest at this point. "Yes, Ada," Aragorn said, his voice blending with Legolas' "Yes, Lord Elrond." The elf smiled.
Then the young man looked up, suddenly intent, as his mind turned back to other matters. "What news did Elladan and Elrohir take to the Dúnadain?" he asked. "Nothing bad, I hope."
"Nothing terrible," Elrond comforted. "The normal news, mostly, happenings around Middle-earth that might benefit the north. Rumors and the like. I imagine Halbarad will be more than willing to fill you in once you return to your kin, but I forbid you to think of such things while you are still on vacation." Aragorn glared at his father, prevented from responding by the meat that was still in his mouth. Elrond held up a hand. "And before you protest, nothing ill will befall your fellow Rangers if you wait in the uptaking of your responsibilities another day or two. They have lasted this long, they will not disappear in a day."
The young man glared a moment longer, then rolled his eyes and swallowed. He recognized the beginning of the same argument his brothers had used when they had left Mirkwood, and while Elrond had not turned to that route yet, he had no desire to hear it again. His brow furrowed in consternation, though he could not quite figure out what he found so vexing about being forced to spend time with his friend. Principle, maybe?
"Do you know when the twins will return?" Legolas spoke up, breaking the silence that had fallen over the small group.
The elf lord hesitated, that shadow the ranger had noted earlier reappearing in deep blue eyes, and this time he recognized it for what it was. Aragorn leaned forward. "Is something wrong, Ada?"
Elrond sighed and shook his head wearily. "I do not think so. Travel over Middle-earth is rarely constrained by time limits."
The human frowned. "What do you mean? When did they leave?"
There was that hesitation again! It spiked worry through Aragorn's heart. "About three months prior."
The young man's eyes widened. "But it does not take that long to deliver a message!" he exclaimed.
"Maybe they were sidetracked," Legolas reasoned, cutting in quickly, not entirely willing to believe there was not a perfectly valid explanation that did not simply assume the worst, though his own heart did a worried flip. "Mayhap they ran into old friends or the weather proved ill. They might have stayed on with the Rangers instead of simply returning."
"Yes, but they would not stay gone three months with no word," Aragorn countered, the worry changing to alarm as he realized all was not well as he had hoped. The twins would cause all manner of trouble, but they would never purposefully worry their father.
"Relax, my son," Elrond bid calmly, placing a hand on his youngest's arm. "Legolas is right. There is not necessarily cause for concern just yet. Mayhap they will ride into Rivendell tomorrow no worse for the wear."
The young ranger subsided with an anxious frown, pushing his worry away with great effort. It was easy for both elves to see that, while he would love nothing more than to accept that explanation, his heart would not let him. "Mayhap, they will, Ada," he said after a moment, swallowing hard as if the very words themselves threatened to stick in his throat.
The elf lord smiled softly and stood. "Finish your lunch, then come to my study. I will examine both of you once you have finished here. I will know if you seek to avoid me," he warned, leveling them both with a stern glare, one eyebrow raised.
Aragorn smiled, making a valiant attempt at regaining his former good humor. "Us, Ada?" he inquired with weak incredulity. "Why, we'd never."
The smile widened, then he left, the door closing quietly behind him as he made his way back to his study--up a flight of stairs, second door on the left. Aragorn sighed as the door closed, slumping in his seat and dropping any act of nonchalance.
Legolas looked at him sympathetically, his own concern darkening his eyes. "You don't believe they will return, do you?"
Aragorn shook his head slowly. "Nay, I do not." Silver eyes looked up at him quickly. "Do you?"
"No," the elf prince answered with a sigh. "Something has gone wrong. They would never worry their father so if there was no problem. But what may have happened between here and their journey to the Dúnadain?"
The young man gave his friend an exasperated look that said quite clearly that that was a stupid question. He shook his head. "Legolas, it's the twins we're talking about. There are miles between here and where the Rangers make their camp, more than a day's travel even on horseback, and you can ask what could possibly happen between here and there?"
A smile tugged at Legolas' lips. "My mistake," he said. "Obviously, I meant to ask what could not happen."
A short laugh escaped Aragorn, ending in a snort. "Obviously," he agreed dryly, then he stood. "Let's go get this examination over with. We'll need all the time we can get if we are to convince Ada to let us go after them."
Legolas stood, too. "Oh, so you wish to discover firsthand all the trouble that can be managed between here and there. Imagining it isn't enough, hm?"
"Right," Aragorn agreed glibly.
"Valar save us."
Aragorn grinned at the elf over his shoulder.
*~*~*~*~*
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Review Responses:
Elfmage: lol. Obviously, you know I can't answer your questions. That would ruin the suspense. *g* An official disorder, I believe. Hehe. I'm flattered beyond words.
Ancalimawen: My intenton was served! Yes! Lol. *smiles widely* I shall, I shall.
Rangergirl: Thank you. There are three writers I have found that I can go to sleep and wake up and say, "Ooh! It's posting day!" Lol. There are about a handful more that I can say I would get that reaction from me. . .if I ever knew when their next post was going to show up. *g* lol. I'm thrilled my writing has that effect. I have a confession: there was very little thought put into the banter. *shrugs* It pops into my head as I write and ends up on the page. I swear. *g*
Shadowhunter: A high compliment, indeed. *bows* I thank you.
Red Tigress: *chuckles* Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I've seen my summary (not the exact summary, mind) on other works, and depending on my mood and current level of boredom, I either skip it entirely or take a chance. . . . None of the ones I've found I been exactly stunning, except perhaps in how truly awful they are. If I wasn't busy with more important things, like making sure my chapters are post-worthy or finishing the chapters that still have to be written, the first thing I'd do is come up with a better summary. Thank you for taking a chance on it and sending me a review. *g* I hope my work continued to be worthy of such praise.
Grumpy: lol. And you know how close Gandalf is. *g* Creeps are good. *grins wider* At least, from my perspective.
Lauren: I didn't forget you, honest. *smiles apologetically* Okay, well, maybe I did. But that's just because it was late and I was in a hurry and by the time I had that "oh shit" moment, it was already thirty minutes too late. Hehe. Those movies you mentioned gave me the creeps, just from your explanation. The only Steven King novel-turned-movie I've ever seen is Christie. I might keep it that way. *g* Did you print out the last story? How many pages did it end up with? I'm curious. The original version had 221 pages without the additions and changes I made. Lol. Hm. Sorry, guess they can avoid them. *shrugs* They'll get into enough trouble later on that missing out on a few orcs now won't make that big of difference. *g* lol. I'd make a comment about one of your comments, but I don't want to ruin any surprises.
Now I think I'll split. Ta.