Suilad mellyn!

Here comes chapter 6!

So, sit back, get a cappuchino (or sweet Borwinion) and enjoy the adventures of our friends. Although, I warn all readers, I think the story gets darker with each chapter.

Title: Delw yomenie (Deadly encounter)

Characters: All Peredhils, including Strider, Legolas……

Timeline: Before FOTR

Rating: T

Warnings: Cruelty and maniacal behaviour. WIP.

Summery: Our Middle-Earth friends encounter something deadly…..

Feedback: YES! Please! looking-like-little-Estel-when-he-wants-something.

Thanks: Many thanks to Trinilee for her beta. It is just for her nice work that many of the evil little mistakes that seem to love me so have decided to go kiss an orc instead of bothering me ;-). Thanks very much, Trinilee!

Without further ado, I proudly present to you, my dear readers:

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the works of Tolkien. Neither books, nor movies. I just borrow them and try to give them back in one piece later. I make no money with this story. Please, do not sue me.

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A/N 1: I let the Lord of Imladris call Legolas several times "elfling". I think in comparison to Elrond, Legolas must seem like an elfling to the Lord.

A/N 2: Finally, you get more background information. ;)

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Chapter 6 – Revelations

He was frustrated. For hours they had searched the forest for any signs of their brother's passing, but so far only minor traces had presented themselves to the watchful eyes of the two elves. All traces they had seen indicated that the humans had moved south, but now…

"Elladan, that makes no sense. Why should they head south for hours and then, just like that, move east, then west?" Elrohir sounded as frustrated as his brother felt. Both had hoped to easily hunt the humans, although the party of elves had found nothing. The twins knew they were more skilled in the art of tracking.

The sun stood high in the blue spring sky, warming the earth. But the forest was thick and only a few rays of clear light found its way to the floor beneath the huge, green forest trees. This meant that most of the leaves were moist with dew and the hems of the long elvish cloaks were dripping wet.

It was cold under the trees, but the elves felt nothing of the chill that lay in the air. Their kin did not feel the cold as humans did, and even if they could have, the brothers' minds had no free room for thoughts as trivial as feeling cold.

A few minutes prior to Elrohirs frustrated murmur, the two elves had entered a small clearing, dotted with young spring flowers and a clear and sparkling tiny river that crossed the space in the middle of the clearing.

The tracks they had been following for the whole day had stopped at the river, but had not reappeared on the other side of it, but had turned and headed to the east, and then, only a few feet further, to turn around completely and head to the west. It just made no sense.

"Elrohir, I know. But, either they have lost the direction, or…."

"Or they are trying to confuse any pursuers," Elrohir concluded his twins sentence. Both nodded grimly. That made sense, of course. It was not a good trick to fool elves, but other followers might have read the signs differently and ventured in the wrong direction.

Elladan looked at his tense brother. If his brother only felt an inch like he did, Elrohir must be sick with worry and boiling up with anger. How dare these humans! How dare they! Sighing, the older twin looked around once more, and then started in the direction of the tracks that they would follow southwest.

Elladan felt his brother's presence near him. They did not speak much. Neither had something important to say and both had enough to think about. The older twin was angry. But not only was he angry with the kidnappers, but also with himself. Not only had he gone back to sleep that fateful night, but he had let the hunters enter the Last Homely House and his little brother's chambers.

He had not really bothered much to check the hunters for weapons when they had arrived. Or to ask them what brought them to Rivendell, or why they had knocked at such a late hour, or, or, or….. It made his heart heavy in his chest. It was his fault that his little brother was gone, that Legolas was hurt badly, that his father was going mad with worry, that Elrohir was here with him in the forest, instead of sitting in the beautiful gardens of Imladris, enjoying the spring season.

He was the oldest of them all. Except his father of course. It was his duty to protect his brothers. And Legolas, friends as they were, was the prince of Mirkwood. It was Elladan's duty to keep him safe when he stayed in Imladris. It was his duty, and he had failed.

Elladan closed his eyes briefly to hold the tears of frustration and failure back. Valar, here he was, a warrior of many thousands of years, and he wanted to cry like an elfling. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and directed them at the forest floor before him.

He needed to be strong. He needed to be strong for his brothers, Legolas, his father, and for himself. He would show those hunters what the son of Lord Elrond was capable of. Before all this was over, those two would regret ever having entered his home.

Elladan's eyes hardened and he sped up a little, eager to reach his destination, wherever that may be. His jaw was set in a grim line and his eyes never left the forest floor. He had gone into hunter mode, and he was the hunter, not the hunted.

xoxoxoxo

Elrohir followed his brother deeper into the woods. He had not questioned his twin's decision to follow the tracks leading south west, knowing that Elladan was right. The two humans had gone southward most of the time.

Furthermore, it was logic. The woods surrounding Imladris were a good means of escaping watchful eyes and had the travellers gone to the west, they would have gone into a more civilized area.

Bree was in the west, as well as other human settlements. So that meant the possibility of meeting other travellers or even elves. The east was no option either. The Misty Mountains were still covered by snow. Legolas had told them that it had taken him ages to cross them. And with a captive and a small child, crossing these high mountains came close to impossible.

No, the south was the only open road. Elrohir suspected that the hunters had comrades in the woods, probably in a camp somewhere. And if that was the case, the camp would have to be in the forest to keep it from being detected. And, the elf thought, it would have to be at the outer rim of the woods surrounding Imladris. Or somewhere near the edge of the forest. Otherwise the chance of being detected by elven scouts was too big.

Elrohir felt that they were going in the right direction. He just hoped that they would reach the camp without finding anything, like the body of his human brother, for instance.

Elrohir sighed and lifted his head from the green and brown forest floor. He took a look at his surroundings and saw his brother's tense shoulders only a step ahead of him.

Elladan had his eyes glued to the floor, not even looking up as a low hanging branch grazed his cheek. Frowning at his brother's back, Elrohir noticed that his twin's shoulders were not only tense; they were as tight as a bow string.

Then, a sigh floated to Elrohirs sensitive ears, followed by a deep intake of breath. Suddenly, Elladan strode out faster, his jaw set and his eyes hard and determined.

Elrohir did not know if he should talk to his brother or not. He knew that his twin was blaming himself for letting the kidnappers enter Imladris. But it was his fault as well as his own. He had been there, too. And he had done nothing to stop the travellers. It was not Elladan's fault.

Elrohir contemplated the situation for a moment, and then decided to leave his brother alone with his thoughts. It would not help Elladan if he had to go through all of his self imposed guilt again. Elrohir knew from experience that his older brother had to deal with that himself. He would not accept any help.

Therefore, Elrohir stepped up beside his older brother again, and together they continued their quest to find and rescue their human brother.

xoxoxoxo

It was not fair. It simply was not fair. Turning onto his good side, the prince of Mirkwood sighed audibly, and then winced as he pulled the stitches the Lord of Imladris had put in his other side to close the wound.

Legolas was frustrated. He was not allowed to get up, or even sit up without help. He was aching, his head was fuzzy, his wound hurt and all in all he hated not being able to do anything to help his friends.

Legolas placed his hand over the wound on his side to stabilize it and to help the pain subside. It had been more than a day since he had been stabbed. It should not hurt that much. And he should not be in bed.

He was an elf and his healing abilities were better than that of humans. The archer had suffered severe wounds and been up and about faster than this. It frustrated him to no end. But, pleading with the healers had only served to get him stern looks and in the end one of the healers had threatened to give him a sleeping potion.

Legolas had not minded that, of course. He wanted to get up and do something, anything that might help his friends. He had argued with the master healer and finally the other elf had threatened to get the Lord of Imladris and let HIM give Legolas the sleeping potion. That had quieted the younger elf immediately. Not only did he not want to sleep, but more than that the thought of his friend's father made Legolas obey.

Elrond had enough worries at the moment. Not only was his youngest son missing, but his two other sons were out there. Alone. Two against an unknown enemy. These thoughts did nothing to lighten Legolas' mood.

Here he was. Proud warrior of Mirkwood, slayer of countless spiders and orcs, brought down by a simple stab wound.

Legolas sighed again. This could not be happening. Why were the Valar so cruel? All he had wanted to do in Imladris was deliver his message, have a few nice days with the twins, and, if he was extraordinarily lucky, meet Estel.

He had been lucky and had been able to meet with his human friend, only to loose him the same day. It was just not fair.

"Brooding, my young prince?" The voice sounded near his bed, causing the young elf to turn swiftly into its direction. Moving so abruptly was not a smart idea, as his side flared up in pain and he had to suppress a groan.

The archer had been quick to suppress the groan that wanted to escape his lips, but his pain must have been clearly visible on his face, because the next second, Legolas felt cool hands on his shoulders, pressing him gently into the soft pillows on the bed.

"Easy, Legolas. Your wound needs time to heal," said the soft voice of Lord Elrond.

Legolas settled himself into the pillows and looked up to the healer. "Aye, hir nin."

Elrond, feeling the depressed mood of the young elf, seated himself in a chair beside the bed. Trying to lift the elfling's mood, Elrond said in an amused voice: "It seems, my sons were not so wrong in giving you your new nickname."

When Elrond had thought that this would help Legolas´ mood, he was proved wrong. Legolas face darkened even more and his eyes narrowed, pain clearly visible in them. The prince sighed softly: "Aye, hir nin, they were right in calling me thus."

Yes, it seemed the twins had been right to call him "Lornalas", "Sleepy-Leaf". He had been so foolish to enter into Estel´s bedchambers without knowing what would await him. He must have been sleep walking that night. Which probably had caused his best friend pain. Or even killed him.

Elrond saw how the prince's face darkened and heard the soft sigh escape Legolas lips. He is blaming himself, the elf lord thought. Oh, Elrond, you should have known that. He might not be a Peredhel, but he has the same illness that all of your family have.

Elrond sighed inaudibly. He should have know that Legolas was infected with the "It-was-all-my-fault,-even-when-it-was-not" illness. A good healer Elrond was, perhaps the best outside of Lothlorien, but against this evil illness, his powers would not help him.

All he could do was help Legolas heal himself.

Elrond bent down to the injured elf and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He waited patiently until Legolas' marine blue eyes found his own, and then, giving the elf's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, he said softly: "Legolas, what has happened, has happened. It was not your fault. You are not to blame. The twins do not blame you, I do not blame you and Estel surely is not blaming you. The only one that is blaming you, is you. Legolas, it was not your fault. The only ones to blame are the ones that took Estel and harmed one this family loves very much, Legolas."

The prince's eyes held the gaze of the elven lord for only a moment, then Legolas nodded curtly: "Iston (I know)." No matter what Elrond told him, Legolas would not believe his words. They were lies to calm him, nothing more.

The lord of Rivendell felt the prince shiver slightly under his touch. Squeezing his shoulder, he waited one more time until the archer's eyes met his: "Legolas, it was not your fault."

"Aye, iston." Legolas could not believe him. He did not want to. Blaming himself was easier than accepting that he had been powerless to do something.

"No Legolas, lasto anim (listen to me). It. Was. Not. Your. Fault." Elrond said, pronouncing each word forcefully, his hand still on the princes shoulder.

Legolas swallowed. Why was the Lord doing this to him? Could he not just leave him alone? Did he have to torture him even more than he already tortured himself?

"Legolas, saes (please). Lasto anim." Elrond's voice was soft, almost a whisper. Legolas felt himself tense under the healers gaze, but he was unable to avert his eyes. Was it truth he saw in Elrond's eyes? Aye, the lord of Imladris was telling the truth. He did not blame him.

Legolas sighed. He swallowed and felt the prick of tears at his eyes. He blinked rapidly to shush them away, but the more he tried, the more tears came unwilling to his eyes. Elrond was right. It was not his fault. He was not to blame. It had not been him who had hurt Estel, instead he had tried to help his friend.

But accepting this simple truth also meant that Legolas now had nothing to vent his anger and sorrow into. The scapegoat he needed was gone. Legolas needed something to concentrate on, to get his energy from, something, anything.

But there was nothing. He felt empty, and lonely. He missed his friends. He missed Estel. Estel had always been near him when Legolas had been injured. Since the day they had first met. Estel was his anchor to the sane world, his light in a world of darkness. But Legolas could not see that light now. It was gone, taken from him.

The young elf felt the elven Lord embrace him. He had not even realized that he had closed his eyes. When his friend's father had pulled Legolas into a comforting hug, the archer felt the tears spill over his cheeks. There was no way he could stop them. And he did not want to.

"Iston, hir nin." Legolas whispered into Elronds tunic. "Iston."

xoxoxoxo

"You have to eat something, Taran. You want to become tall and strong, don't you?" It was the exact 28th time that Estel had said that to the little child. And it was the 28th time that said little adan shook his head vehemently "No".

Sighing, Estel shifted the boy on his lap and took a deep breath. It had been late morning when Estel had woken. Well, he had actually been woken by a painful kick to his legs. Upon opening his tired eyes, Estel had found a tall man before him, holding some water and bread, together with a cup of milk and some fruits. The man had placed it in front of the ranger and then left without a word.

At the smell of the bread, Estels stomach had rumbled slightly, waking the little child that slept nestled near the ranger. At least they are not planning on starving us, he had thought.

Taran had eyed the food with big eyes. The boy had not eaten much during their long walk and naturally must feel even hungrier than the ranger. Estel was used to days without food or water, but Taran was but a small child. Children were always hungry. That was something Estel remembered from his own younger years.

Therefore, the adopted son of Elrond had taken the bread and dipped it into the milk as good as it was possible with bound hands, and had tried to feed it to the child.

And now, Taran shook his head "No!" for the 28th time that morning. It was enough to drive Estel round the bend. Why was this child not eating? He was hungry! Estel closed his eyes, counted to five, took a deep steadying breath and opened his eyes again.

Good, round 29 then. "Penneth, saes. Make me a happy ranger and eat." To Estels surprise, Taran turned big eyes at the ranger, blinked, and then started to giggle with glee.

Uhm, right. What had he done? In his perplexed state, Estel actually looked behind him and at his sides, just to make sure that he and the boy were alone in the tent. Nope, no-one else around. Then it must really have been Estel that had made the boy laugh. But how?

"What is so funny, penneth, hm?" Not expecting an answer from the little adan, the ranger was even more surprised, when suddenly the boys arm flew up, pointing with his little fingers at the rangers face, his mouth babbling happily.

Estel's eyes widened at the scene before him and before he could help it, a chuckle had escaped his lips. That boy was incredible. But soon the merry chuckles of the ranger turned into harsh coughs as his lungs constricted and his throat ached terribly.

He coughed and coughed, trying to get the control over his breathing. His chest stood aflame and his throat hurt the same as the night before. Finally, many long and agonizing moments later, Estel could inhale once again without starting to cough.

He steadied his fast breathing and righted himself in his bonds. He had not even noticed that he had slumped forwards during the coughing fit. Oh my, he thought, that was not good. Definitely not good.

The ache in his chest and throat subsided slowly, leaving Estel drained of energy and shivering slightly. The low temperature in the tent did not help much. The hunters had given Estel a blanket, but he had wound it around the cold child to keep it warm, therefore leaving only a small part of the blanket for himself.

He sighed carefully. He was freezing again. The ranger closed his eyes for a moment and rested his head against the tent pole. Only a few moments, he thought. Just to get everything back under control.

As Estel felt a soft tug at his tunic, he noticed that he had nearly fallen asleep. Blinking away the tiredness, he looked down and was greeted by an anxious looking Taran. The boy eyed him with frightened blue eyes, the forefinger of his left hand in his small mouth.

Estel forced a smile onto his face, lifted the boy as much as possible and soothed him with soft words: "All is well penneth. Don't be afraid."

Taran watched him with his blue eyes that reminded Estel so much of his Mirkwood friend, and then the little boy turned his gaze towards the bread that the ranger still held in his hand. Pointing at it with his chubby hand, Taran babbled softly, whilst still looking at Estel.

Smiling, he lifted the bread. "You want this? All of the sudden?" Taran nodded eagerly. "Hm, well, penneth, do you promise me to eat it all? Without any further negotiations?" The little face screwed up slightly, but when Estel moved his hand holding the bread away, Taran spread out his arms towards the bread, nodding furiously.

The ranger could not suppress the grin that spread over his face. Children. Always hungry. But although he smiled at the child's antics, he could not deny the feeling that the little adan had only obeyed to eat the bread because of his coughing fit. It seemed the child was afraid to do something that could harm him or make him angry.

While feeding the child with the bread, fruits and milk, Estel talked softly to the boy, calming him and reassuring him that all was well. When Taran was finished, Estel ate the rest of the bread and drank the water. With each bite he took, his throat hurt more and even the water was not able to sooth his aching neck. The bread was not much and the water even less, but when Estel was finished with his meal, he had the feeling as if is neck had been ripped open by an orc, it hurt that much.

He just hoped that the cause for his discomfort was the last night's incident and not something more sinister. The healer in him told him that it could not come from the strangling, but he was not willing to listen. And truly, what could he possibly do?

xoxoxoxo

The sun was high in the sky, nearing the last quarter of its path, when a dark haired elf suddenly stopped in his tracks, his head crooked to one side, listening intently. Another elf, looking almost identical to the first one, stepped up to the other elf, eyes questioning.

Elladan just shook his head slightly, motioning his younger brother to be silent. He had heard something. A rustling in the leaves, a shifting in the green that surrounded them. He could not feel the dark venom-like atmosphere of orcs, but something was not as it seemed.

Elrohir, alarmed by his brother's behaviour, took a look at their surroundings. For hours they had walked southwards, and were now near the centre of the forest. The trees stood deep and loomed over them, their branches thick and old. The leaves were of a dark green, and the dense foliage hindered the sun from shining upon the ground. The branches swung in the soft wind, the leaves creating a whisper among them and small feet could be heard running under and in the underbrush.

The twins had often ventured into the heart of the forest; they knew the wood by heart. But at the moment, neither Elladan nor Elrohir were interested in the antics of the forest. Moments before it had looked welcoming and normal, but now the trees seemed to close in on them and the tiny feet running on dry and dead leaves made the twins uneasy.

No, something was not right. The trees were too silent. They did not talk as they usually did.

Simultaneously, Elladan and Elrohir drew their bows and notched arrows. Something was coming towards them. It was not orcs, the trees would have warned them. It was something else.

As if on command, both elves turned around in the direction of a snapping branch. Whatever it was, it was right before them. So they waited for the enemy to show himself.

Little did they know that another enemy sneaked up on them from behind.

xoxoxoxo

After Elrond had left him to his own thoughts, Legolas had come to terms with his situation. He was injured, right, but he was not useless. Perhaps he could not run as fast as usual, or climb as swiftly as he normally was able to, but he still had his wits.

And as well as he knew the twins and Estel, they would need him sooner or later. Placing a hand on his injured side, Legolas sat up slowly, wincing with the pain it caused. Even as painful as it was, the elf was determined to carry out his plan.

When he had been alone with his thoughts, the prince had come to the conclusion that he would not stay in bed. His mind had come up with a plan faster than Legolas had thought possible. He had to admit, it was not a very good plan, but it was a plan nevertheless.

Wincing again, Legolas pushed himself up further and let his left leg dangle over the side of the bed. It was soon followed by his right leg and then by the rest of Legolas' body. As the archer's bare feet touched the floor, a shiver crawled up his spine. The floor was cold and made him wince again.

Slowly, very slowly, Legolas put his whole weight onto his unsteady feet, for a moment balancing between falling back on the bed or face first on the floor. Then his legs stopped wobbling and Legolas let out a sigh of relief. Good, phase one of his plan had been completed.

The prince walked slowly around in the room, giving his legs back the strength they had lost over the last few days. Then he stumbled back to his bed and lay down again, and started to think about phase two. That would be more difficult to accomplish.

How was he to get his clothes and weapons without being detected?

xoxoxoxo

Dagnir was pacing in his tent. Normally he didn't pace, it did not suit a captain like him. But today, after all that had happened, he could not help it. They had hunted down their prey, yes. They had sneaked into the elven city, had taken the child and returned unscratched to the camp.

Balling his hand into a fist, Dagnir's thoughts returned to the ranger. That cursed human. Dagnir was not pleased to have the human in his middle, but on the other hand, he knew the advantages that having the ranger gave him.

Nevertheless, that ranger meant trouble. The sooner the deal was done, the better.

Turning to his small table, the captain stopped his pacing and bent over the letter that he had written in the morning. It was short and formulated unmistakably. As soon as the sun had set, he would send one of his men to Bree, to the family of the child.

Or more precise, to his father, the boy's father. Dagnir´s face turned into a frown at the thought of the man. Oh, he would love to see the man's face when he read the letter. That would be a sight to behold. It was such a shame that Dagnir could not deliver the message himself. Facing his old enemy would have been a great pleasure. The captain had known the child's father for years. They had been comrades, soldiers, and even friends. And then, his friend had betrayed him. Him!

Cold anger rose in Dagnir's chest. His eyes narrowed dangerously and his hands were balled into fists. Oh, his old friend deserved to suffer; he deserved to be in pain. He had to pay. And he would pay dearly for his betrayal.

Dagnirs balled fist came up and crashed onto the wooden table, making the furniture tremble slightly and toppling over the ink bottle. The black substance spilled over the table, only to drip drop over the edge onto the floor.

Dagnir did not notice it. His mind was caught in old memories, in times long gone. His soul matched the inky blackness on the table.

Soon, he whispered, soon you are all mine.

End of chapter 6

Tbc asap…..

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