A/N: Hello all.
Yes, I am aware this is earlier than I told you all it would be - but you won't believe the lengths I will go to avoid much needed revision! I have eight exams next week, so you are very lucky to have this update so soon... if I wasn't such a bad student with incredibly poor motivational skills, you wouldn't have heard from me!
Anyway, in this chapter you meet a few new elves, although you might have come across them in some of my other stories - I have collected a band of characters for Mirkwood, and I tend to use the same ones over and over again. Hopefully it's not confusing, and the characters are necessary and, I hope, likeable and funny... when you review you have to tell me what you think of them okay?
viggomaniac: I am trying to get Estel to sound as much like a real ten year old as possible - there needs to be some sort of balance to all the inevitable elvish mischief in these sorts of stories - so I appreciate your comments very much. Keep reviewing and let me know when I'm going wrong!
Templa Otmena: Wow - you're still with me! Very pleased. I've always thought there's a great deal of arrogance in young children - it's only really in your rather late teens when you begin to realise that, hey, the world really doesn't revolve around you after all (and some people not even then)! It's what makes children so cool, I think: they're incredibly bloody-minded... if my little sister is anything to go by. And yes, much angst ahead indeed.
Beth: How dare you neglect the duties of a Legolas fan! I am ashamed: to think I dedicated an entire story to you once upon a time! On the other hand, if you're going to switch characters on me, good choice with Elladan!
So that's enough avoiding revision - I have to go now and have a mental breakdown. See you later!
The forest near to Rivendell's vast borders seemed almost to twinkle with the bright summer sunshine that drifted under the canopy of vivid green leaves. The beautiful flora gave no hint to the danger that was approaching, fast on the heels of the group of swift and fair immortals that sprinted silently underneath the boughs of the mighty trees.
A terrible number of orcs were preparing themselves to march on the unsuspecting Imladris within a day or two: they longed awfully to burn it to the ground, uproot the trees that grew there, drown all the wildlife in the many waterfalls, and have their fun with the disgusting elves that lived there.
After nearly a week of attempting to invade the land of the Woodland King, and being thwarted each and every time by steadily tiring Silvans, the individual groups of orcs, all sent seperately from their stronghold in Mirkwood and abroad, had eventually organised themselves into one devastating task force, and were making their way across to the West, focused so as they could feel the ripping of sweet elven flesh under their claws and drink the heady liquor of their blood, something the Woodland elves tended to deny them.
Rivendell's only hope and warning lay with these five elves, already battered, bloody and near-exhausted from the fights they had endured at home, sent on a mission by the King to warn their kin in the West of the approaching tide of evil. They had been running for three days, and their strong stamina was beginning to wane.
"By the Valar, I shall be glad of our rest, when we get it," came a quiet murmur, as fluid as water, from one immortal to another.
Such a thing was not often said amid the company of elves, and most especially between Mirkwood elves, but these two particular elves had known one another for a very long time indeed... and, if nothing else, they spoke very quietly... lest they be overheard.
Fienngil, Second Prince of Mirkwood, smiled tiredly in answer at the tall stealth warrior who ran alongside him. "Peace, Maegathir. You know as well as I the urgency of our information for Rivendell - the King would rather face ten Balrogs than see the Last Homely House overrun with orcs as in our land."
He paused, grey-blue eyes flickering ahead of him to latch onto the blond-headed leader of the racing group, and they twinkled unexpectedly. "Besides, we don't want him to think we are becoming too old and cumbersome to keep up with him... we'd never hear the end of it!"
The elder elf chuckled deeply, though it sounded more like a grunt than anything resembling mirth, "No indeed, Your Highness."
For the leader of the group at that moment was the young Legolas Greenleaf, youngest of the princes of Mirkwood. Determined to get to Rivendell in time to save friends who lived there, he strode out yards ahead of the rest of the contingent, strength burning in his green eyes, pure stubborness powering his legs and his golden hair flaming out behind him.
Yet, even with his goal of reaching Lord Elrond's home before nightfall, he understood his colleagues and himself needed to stop for a while, and soon, for his legs were beginning to falter ever so slightly and the elves were already injured in one way or anpther from previous battles in Mirkwood.
And so it was that the group reached a small clearing, and Legolas held up one slender hand to call a halt, much to the relief of his companions, and they all let themselves go tiredly.
Fienngil clapped his brother on the shoulder as they sat down together on a large tree stump, "Very good today, Legolas... you led with as much ease as if you had been a warrior of the Age of Gil-Galad."
"I wouldn't be telling him that, my prince, else his head swells: you know what he's like," laughed Tauredal, a fair-headed Captain of Forces, and a close friend of both the princes. He rubbed absently at a dark bruise on his cheek from where an orc had struck him the day before, and grinned throug his wince.
Though Mirkwood was run a great deal on heirarchy and formalities between warriors, lords and the Royal House, the Royal Children (and especially these two princes) were well known to prefer natural conversation, and those who had known them longest could easily forget their status entirely... something the Royals appreciated greatly.
Legolas shot him a mock-glare, then grinned, greatfully accepting the water-skin handed to him by his faithful guard Abrome. He pulled his chin up, and threw his mane of golden hair over his shoulder theatrically, "It's just I recieve so manycompliments these days from my elders: I have a hard time keeping my increasing happiness under control... that must be why you, Tauredal, never have such a trouble with keeping your pride in check?"
"Well met, my lord," laughed the captain, conceding defeat before he bit into a wafer of lembas, stretching his tired legs out before him and leaning his weary back against a welcoming tree trunk.
Maegathir, eldest elf of them all shook his dark head, as he set himself cross-legged on the ground to the left, gunting at the pain in his left knee, "Foolish young ones."
Legolas' sharp ears caught this, and he smiled at the predictability of the grumpy warrior's comment - he had grown up with such chides ringing in his pointed ears, and he was practiced enough to realise such words were not meant harshly. Rather, Maegathir had always had trouble expressing his fondness for anyone... indeed, he was rather cold to one for the first forty years of friendship, warming only slightly for the fifty or so after that.
Abrome, Legolas' personal guard since birth, made no move to sit down with the others, merely paced around the small clearing, jet-black eyes scanning the surrounding area, fingering his idle bow and half-drawn arrow. The black blood that painted his face gave the dark elf a rather threatening appearance, entirely in contrast to his peaceful disposition.
"For the love of the Eldar, Abrome, sit down, will you? We have quite a way to travel yet, and we can't have you worn out before the last leg has even begun, can we?" Fienngil cried out in fond annoyance.
"My apologies, your highness," Abrome dipped his black-curled head with a smile - such actions between himself and the princes seemed almost like a routine after so many years. "The reasons why we stopped slipped my mind temporarily," his wry mouth curled into a small smile, and he seated himself on the grassy ground beside Legolas, who patted him on the back in friendship.
They sat like this for a short while, each elf eating and consumed in his own thoughts when Fienngil, who - unlike many elves- always liked conversation, decided to begin one for want of something better to do, "So, Legolas... let us know in advance: are you going to take the opportunity of going to Imladris to mess about with the twins, like you always do? Or are you prepared to do some serious work this time?"
Legolas looked up silently from his bread, pale face smooth and bright green eyes innocent and round, making him look far more like an elfling than a warrior of two millenia. This trademark look - known throughout elvendom - was sufficient to divulge everything his brother needed to know in answer to his question.
Tauredal chuckled with amusement and Maegathir groaned loudly before speaking in a tone that was the closest thing to a whine that elves had at their disposal, "My lord,please do not follow your usual pattern and act as elflings with Elladan and Elrohir. Whenever you do, all three of you end up in terrible mischeif, not to mention the worst kind of danger, and one of you always, always gets injured."
He sighed, running a strong palm across his face wearily, "I'm afraid my nerves simply cannot allow it this time."
"Nor mine," added Abrome helpfully, ignoring the dark look this drew from his fair-haired protective.
The guard did continue, attempting to explain himself and avoid any accusation of treason, "My prince, I do not grudge my duty as your guard... indeed, I love it as I love my own life... but if I have to crawl into a Valar-forsaken rotting hole of an orc-den again to drag you and Elladan, both unconscious, out from 'neath a pile of their putrid corpses, all the while having to forcibly restrain an injured Elrohir and Lord Elrond from doing so themselves, I may have to cut my warrior-braids off and renounce my destiny. Is that fair?"
The prince laughed heartily, "You two... First, my dear Maegathir, fear not: for you and your sanity, I will stay clear of trouble this time, I swear it so." He placed a hand on his green-clad chest, over his heart, to show the sincerity of his pledge.
Satisfied, the dark-haired stealth warrior turned back to his lembas with a grunt, but Fienngil cried out in annoyance, long light brown hair whirling in the air as he turned to Legolas, interupting him, "Oh, so you will agree to that for Maegathir, but you think it's fine to ignore the pleadings of Adar, Tusinduil and myself in the exact same proposal for countless years?"
Legolas grinned his smile that mocked trouble, and retorted, "Well, I like him more than you lot, my big brother."
Fienngil muttered darkly, feeling almost as irritated by his youngest brother then as he had been when they had been elflings, and Legolas had refused to stay at the palace with his closest brother, Ithilmir, while the four eldest princes went on a hunting trip. Unknown to them, and to their frustration, he had followed Tusinduil, Fienngil, Arianduil and Andariun all the way into the very dangerous heart of Mirkwood before they noticed. King Thranduil had kept them all indoors for two weeks for that little stunt, a harsh punishment for any wood elf.
Nevertheless, his bright eyes danced as they were wont to when around this particular sibling.
Legolas' green eyes then latched onto the ebony eyes of his guard, "And faithful Abrome... firstly, may I remind you that that was only once; that it was Elladan's fault in the first place; that Elrohir was the one to go and get you; and that... fair enough - I agree with you. I promise to stay clear of orcs."
"My lord, nothing could make me happier, nor more relieved."
"Well then," started Tauredal who, having finished with his own lembas, saw no need to tarry. "Shall we hence? Mayhap we can get there before nightfall: then we shall be a full day ahead of the orc's attack."
"Very well, very well," grumbled Maegathir, pulling himself with effort from the ground, holding a nearby tree for support as he put weight on his injured knee. "I suppose the sooner we do this the sooner we can be back home, going about our daily business." Maegathir was not one for interaction, even with other elves, and was highly suspicious of Imladris elves in particular for some reason.
Tauredal looked at him quizzically, bright eyes narrowing in annoyance, "Oh, you happen to like week-long watches alone in the forest, with nothing to accompany you but the smell of evil and a few squirrels and spiders, do you Maegathir?"
The older stealth warrior threw him a glance, and a tiny hint of a smile lifted the corners of his stern mouth. Legolas, Fienngil and Abrome laughed aloud at the exchange, preparing to set off once more.
They did not hear the twenty orcs that had been quietly surrounding them, staying hidden and creeping through the shadows of the trees, despite their keen senses. For how could they know that as they jested with one another - something so rare for Mirkwood elves to indulge in - that evil had lent these creatures a silence unnatural to their destructive kind, and that darkness had sought to muffled the warning cries of the trees around them.
The ageless faces of the immortals hardened simultaneously, their strong backs straightening as they reached impulsively for their weapons... but by then, it was too late...
Elladan looked up from his book with a smile as he two brothers approached him. He raised one dark brow with a grin, "He found you then, Estel?"
The young human child pulled a face, and hurled himself onto the bench next to the tall elf with a grunt, "Of course."
Elrohir laughed, resting a hand fondly upon the boy's wild black curls, speaking to his twin, "He's getting better, Elladan: we shall have our work cut out for us in the next few years."
This cheered Aragorn up enormously, exactly as Elrohir had known it would.
The boy leapt to his feet, waving his hands around excitedly, declaring, "In that case I'm going to go and hide again, okay? And Elladan it's your turn this time - and Elrohir, your not allowed to tell him where I've gone, alright? Not that he'll find me anyway, I'll bet! Ha! Okay, Elladan, remember... count to one thousand, okay? Starting from now... One, two, three... GO!"
And with that, the flight-footed child took off at breakneck speed, crashing through the foliage around him in his effort to get to the best possibly hiding place.
Elrohir gave a comical wide-eyed look to his brother as the boy disappeared quickly from their far-reaching sight, "I swear, I cannot understand him when he does that."
His twin, however, did not answer, rather seemed distracted by something suddenly, a cloud drawning down across his handsome features. The book he had been reading lay idle in his lap, and he looked distantly to the East, seemingly pensive and frustrated. Elrohir nudged him gently with his elbow, eyes searching the face identical to his own. "Brother of mine, what is it?"
At length, Elladan seemed to become more himself and answered, "I am not sure, Elrohir... but something doesn't seem quite right." After another pause, he shook his dark head, as if clearing his mind, "No matter - I'm sure it's nothing... Now, shall we go inside for some tea and music?"
"But Elladan, Estel is hiding, awaiting you to find him," Elrohir stated plainly, confused.
A mischevious grin took hold of both their features then, as realisation dawned, and the conspirators laughed as they made their way indoors.
A/N: What do you think? Please review, I greatly appreciate it! Cheers, AliciA.