Sorry for the delay, but we had no school and therefore, no access to the Internet on Monday. We are terribly sorry and hope you aren't all too cross! So, without further ado is chapter nine!

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Ripples

CHAPTER NINE

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But for These Memories…

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Aragorn felt like everything was petrified for few seconds and all he was able to hear was his heart pounding in his chest. But then things quickly snapped back into the moment and he started as he realized that a large, aggressive and probably hungry spider was about to make a breakfast out of him.

Instinctively, the human sprang into action and dropped into a fearful crouch, muscles tensing as he held his sword in a prepared position, waiting for the first assault. To his dismay and mild confusion, the spider didn't appear to be doing anything at all. There wasn't even the slightest sound of the creaking of its legs, which would have been a signal of its movement.

Holding his breath, Aragorn painstakingly raised himself, feeling his vertebrae straighten one piece at a time as he became rigid, lowering his sword ever so slightly. Something wasn't right, that much was obvious. A spider of this colossal size and strength normally wouldn't have hesitated the slightest in attacking a victim –even playing with its food.

Aragorn swallowed as he thought it might have already eaten and couldn't help but wonder what had filled the creature up so much that it was not trying to trap him in its threads. Legolas was missing…. but no, that couldn't be true. He would have run across the body somewhere, because spiders only sucked the blood and life from a victim, not being able to chew.

A gurgling screech suddenly vibrated in the moist air, causing Aragorn to shudder at the grating sharpness of it. An Elf, he thought, might have covered his sensitive ears at the noise. Bringing his sword up once more, Aragorn backed up carelessly into a large runnel of water tumbling down from the cupping leaves. He was already soaked, so the gallon of water dousing his head and shoulders didn't make much difference.

All the same he stepped forward decisively, not wanting to make himself any less comfortable than he already was.

A hiss that bore the air of an old man's grumbling sounded through he rain and Aragorn could hear the creature bubbling and gurgling its displeasure at the rain. The man's eyes widened and he felt his jaw trying to drop as he thought he heard some understandable speech mingled with spluttering slurs as the spider was being poured down upon by the pounding rain. "Nasty rain….ack! …protecting scrumptious Elves and tasty little humans!" There was some more twisted wailing and Aragorn was stunned to the point of nearly forgetting is danger.

Of course Legolas had told him that the spiders could speak. But he had to admit he had only been half listening and had dismissed it as a joke the Elf was trying to play, feeling a little bit annoyed that Legolas was thinking he was so stupid. He had never supposed spiders had the intelligence to make comprehensible words though they appeared to have the smarts to organize ambushes that were highly effective ninety percent of the time.

But for all their intelligence and bulk they appeared to have one main weakness. The rain had never come down this hard in Mirkwood nor anywhere else, Aragorn supposed, and the spiders were not used to it and it bogged the more delicate parts of their structure down. Throwing threads at prey was useless because they simply wouldn't stick in this wet and their sticky pads on their clawed feet couldn't grip the branches properly.

This spider was old, Aragorn determined, and heavy, barely able to be supported by branches on a dry day and during this wet spell when the branches were weighed down with water nothing could hold. Perhaps the reason it wasn't attacking was because of the unnaturally heavy rain, but Aragorn wondered if the spider had taken a spill, damaging one of its legs in such a way it was impossible for it to hunt.

Deciding this was most likely true; Aragorn couldn't help but feel slightly giddy. After all, he no longer had the immediate threat of being devoured hanging over his head but his heavy heart quickly reminded him of why he was here.

Legolas was in dire danger and half of it was his fault. If only he hadn't let Legolas go alone…he should have been there, having his friend's back covered.

But he couldn't change the past, all he could do was try and compensate for it. Aragorn couldn't remember a time when he had ever been more frustrated except maybe after discovering everything his friend had suffered at the hand of the secret miners. Oh, he knew the Elf hadn't told him everything, not by a long shot, but he could read it in his eyes and in his movements. It had hurt at first how when he got close to him Legolas would step unconsciously away but he couldn't blame the prince.

To his bitter sorrow he realized that that particular incident and series of troubles was something that he couldn't never compensate for. He could tell that the Elf had been torn into pieces from the weeks spent in total darkness at the hands of people that were just about as wicked as orcs but slightly more intelligent. They had come up with very…inventive ways to hurt Legolas and force him to fight like an animal.

It had been a long time before Legolas had been able to fire his bow because his chest wound would reopen each time and his strength was no longer adequate. Aragorn supposed that might be another reason why Rána wasn't dead and the shot hadn't gone clear through his upper chest. This most likely meant that Legolas' chest wound wasn't fully healed as the Elf had proclaimed a day or so back.

Aragorn was jerked form the past back into the present as the spider let out a defeated howl of rage and frustration. Cautiously, Aragorn backed up, hoping he wouldn't run into another of the hideous arachnids. If he was lucky they had deserted the elder spider completely and the clan had moved on otherwise he might find himself in serious trouble.

Still keeping his sword and body in a defensive stance, the ranger quietly slipped into the brush. Once having the sense he was out of danger and there were no hungry eyes on his back, the man sat with a thump to the ground, feeling defeated, lost and alone.

After all, he didn't know his way around Mirkwood, at least not well enough to know where everything was in the dark. Covering his face with his hands after he set his sword beside him, Aragorn couldn't help but feel helpless. He had no idea where to go and he had no one to turn to. Legolas wasn't by his side and it was his fault. The twins were trying to help Erestor get himself back together after meeting his mortal enemy and so they hadn't come.

The only thing he had left to do was look for Voronwë, but what if the Elf was dead and he wasted valuable time searching for him? Legolas could be dead by then! The Valar alone knew how they planned to do that! But if he didn't find Voronwë and give himself the chance to ask where Legolas could have been taken then he was probably going to waste more time trying to find the Elf.

He remembered that when Legolas had ever wanted to see the layout of the forest (not that he ever got lost in his own woods, of course) then he would climb one of the highest trees that stretched above the canopy, shading his eyes from the sun to find the Old Forest River, which ran South from the palace. It had always acted as a flawless guide.

But with these torrential rains Aragorn wasn't sure he would be able to climb that high, for the first time admitting that he didn't possess the skill of the Elves when it came to traversing above the ground. And there was the risk of getting struck by lightning not to mention the strong winds. But he didn't have time to waste waiting on this storm to cease, it could go on for days and he only had hours, if even that.

Having no other reasonable choice, Aragorn rose to his feet and then bent down, picking up his sword and sheathing it silently. Gazing up into the darkness he grimaced as lighting broke through the dense canopy of trees somewhere in the distance, illuminating the forest with a momentary and eerie glow.

That was all he needed as his trained eyes settled on a large trunked and aged tree, one that had been here long enough to out grow its fellows. Unfortunately there were no branches close to the ground though there was a smaller tree growing directly under one of the higher and thicker boughs of the tree of choice. This younger tree also had applicable climbing branches that could easily be reached.

Pelting over to the two growths of vegetation, Aragorn stopped at their trunks, wondering exactly how he was going to do this without breaking his neck. There was not that many options, he concluded as he felt along the smaller tree's trunk and reached up to grasp a branch so he could swing himself up onto the thicker boughs. To his disappointment the branches were slippery and hard to handle. Pulling himself up onto the first sturdy looking branch, the human balanced, keeping a steadying hand on the trunk and reached up for another branch.

A few more minutes and quite a few branches up and the ranger didn't know how he had done it. He was at an ideal spot to shift over to the larger and more prominent tree, where the branches crossed paths and intertwined with one another in a twisted and nearly grotesque fashion.

Wasting no time, the ranger reached across and grabbed the thick bough of the other tree, trying to support himself as he made the perilous transition. It was covered in a rough bark that bit slightly into his hands, causing him to recoil at first before he realized what it was and placed his hand back on the limb once more. Bringing a leg over, he managed to get halfway across.

This was encouraging and before he realized it he was over and onto the other tree, making his steady ascendance. It was a whole lot higher than he had bargained for and he decided that looking down was not going to serve him too well in this situation. True, he had never blanched at heights before, but these circumstances were rather unconventional and more dangerous than he felt comfortable with. Challenges were fun when the stakes were only humiliation and the minute risk of a broken arm.

Soon he had reached the top and his breath was stolen away at the magnificent scenery. Sighing with satisfaction he took in what he rarely got the chance to see, the vastness of Mirkwood forest. It was truly beautiful from above. The sight lifted his spirits just enough to allow a weak smile to sneak onto his face.

What was even more magnificent, he realized as the rain beat on his face and shoulders, trying to shove him back to the ground, was the storm. He had never seen clouds like these before and they were amazing. He felt as though he could reach up and grab one but the fact that stretching his hands out might attract lightning coupled with the reality that he was seventy feet off the ground kept his hands where they were –clinging to the braches for dear life.

Good grief! He wondered. Could you drown from rain alone?

Blinking, Aragorn looked around and spotted the Old Forest River churning and gurgling its way South as the rains swelled its waters to levels of flooding in the lower parts. He had last seen Voronwë near the river and he prayed that the Elf hadn't drowned. He didn't think he could bear that.

Once again the message left in his friend's blood crossed his mind again and his heart stung. A bright and literally blinding light flashed right before his eyes and everything suddenly became unnaturally hot. The air seemed to throb and he felt himself letting go of the branches and then falling, falling…

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The Elves lead by Lostiâ had managed by some strange 'grace' to find a relatively large and unoccupied grotto only about a quarter of a mile away from where Legolas' mother had fallen, where they planned to reap the sweetest revenge. The cave had a sandy floor and was dry except for a small nook towards the very back where the light didn't reach, or so Arandur had said after he was elected to play the role of scout and bring back information concerning the wellness of the cave.

Now standing outside it after being bodily yanked from the horse by his hair and bound arms, Legolas felt a thrill of fear running up and down his spine and causing him to feel sick. He couldn't take this; he really couldn't, not after Farlost and certainly not after Calmir. It was asking too much, even if Aragorn or his own father had asked it of him.

Looking at its yawning entrance with wide eyes and pressed lips that formed a thin white line, Legolas unconsciously took a step back only to feel his uncle's hands on his shoulders, the fingers pressing into the joints so hard that it hurt and the captive prince jerked away in pain. His eyes never left the mouth of the cave as he looked beyond it at the towering and overbearing walls that leaned in on you when you went inside and were beneath them. Once inside Legolas just knew there would not be an escape and his uncle still had to make good on his promise.

He felt torn into pieces like a worthless piece of paper as he watched the other Elves cautiously filing in, not liking the idea but not having any reason to outright loathe it or fear it. They still walked as though they expected the grotto to come down on their heads, but other than that they didn't appear to be overly distraught.

Legolas felt like he was going to be sick as his stomach clenched and his throat constricted as his uncle began to prod him forward towards the imposing and yawning mouth of the dark grotto. In his heart, Legolas wanted nothing more than to resist and struggle as his footsteps took him closer to the place he dreaded nearly more than any other place, but he couldn't bring himself to subject his pride to those levels of vulnerability. He saw the daunting entrance to the cave getting closer and closer and with shock he found himself taking steps towards it at his uncle's urging.

Rána was watching him with an intense stare, barely within the shadows of the stone and mud walls. He seemed to be a bit impatient as he saw his friend forcing Legolas ahead of him at a relatively slow speed. Water splashed around the related Elves' feet as they sloshed through the deep puddles forming from the dousing rains that had saturated every conspirator as well as their captive.

In moments that had gone by way to fast, Legolas found himself beneath the imposing walls of the cavern as they leaned in on him, making his heart beat faster and his mind back track, slipping into darker memories that were trying to claim him. Closing his eyes, it was beyond his power to disguise or hide his anxiety and Legolas swallowed down a lump forcing its way up his throat and he tried to suppress memories of Calmir and his cruel attention.

Lostiâ shoved him uncaringly over into the arms of Arandur and his Elves as he stalked over to Rána with an intolerant and agitated face with his eyes voicing his opinion of the situation almost entirely. "How's your little wound, Rána?" he asked, glancing inconspicuously over at Legolas, who was being held by his upper arms on either side by Arandur and one of his friends.

The dark-haired Elf barely grimaced but it was clear he was hiding most of his discomfort. "It isn't as horrible as I thought it would be." Holding Lostiâ's eyes he searched them curiously as he ventured, "why?" Rána wasn't sure he approved the sly and malicious glint coming into his companion's eyes, turning them frosty.

Lostiâ let his eyes fall pointedly onto Legolas' knees before he gave a nod and an Elf behind the prince dealt a smashing kick into the back of the captive's knees, forcing him abruptly to the ground with a grunt. Legolas winced as he felt the stone covered ground bite through his leggings at the knees, bruising and scraping the skin, causing it to smart.

"About how much pain are you experiencing, Rána?" Lostiâ asked as he stepped by his nephew, who was glaring up at him with an inquiring expression as he tried to guess what devilry his uncle was conjuring up.

Rána shook his head despondently as he said, "it can be a bit intense at times. Right now it is only burning a little." Lostiâ was acting strangely, even if it wasn't an entirely new experience, and it had become disconcerting.

Lostiâ took a brief moment to ring some water out of some of his hair, before he glared down at Legolas. "Did you hear that Legolas? You caused Rána pain." Sighing over dramatically, the elder Elf clicked his tongue in a mocking chide. "I meant to only take my revenge but you have been misbehaving and poor dear Rána needs some compensation." He gestured with his eyes pointedly to the dark-haired warrior that Legolas' had accidentally shot.

Legolas noticed that Arandur along with the other Elves had stepped back a pace leaving him alone before his uncle's feet. Legolas knew that Lostiâ was just looking for an excuse to beat him or worse and he couldn't help but feeling faintly sick. "It was an accident," he tried to explain pleadingly as his bad feeling steadily ascended.

Lostiâ's eyes seemed to suddenly light up with a threatening flame and he gripped Legolas' chin in his hand, pinching it tightly as he held his nephew's head up. "Well everything has a consequence princeling." Before Legolas could pull free, the silver-haired Elf yanked the gag from his mouth, causing Legolas to make a face at the abrupt movement.

He jerked his head away roughly, not at all liking this turn of events that he had known were destined to go this way from the very start. His eyes took on a steely look as he set his jaw and drew a deep breath. "You don't have to be this way," Legolas attempted to reason as he pushed aside the leering feeling of the cave walls coupled with fear of his uncle's wrath. "It isn't worth it. You will be killed for this."

"Legolas," Lostiâ replied coldly, staring at his nephew in twisted amusement. "I won't let them kill me. I'll kill myself first. You, however, will die before me and after I teach you a few lessons." Legolas diverted his gaze and turned his head away, not appreciating the cutting attention.

He knew there was no way out of this, but he just wished he were wrong. His heart was sinking as the weight of the anticipation of the pain pulled it down. Licking his mouth's corners that had become chaffed from the gag, Legolas sighed inwardly.

Rána's voice cut through the air as he complained. "I am soaked, as is everyone else. Before we deal with our guest, I suggest we light a fire and get a little more…comfortable?" His opinion was promptly repeated and backed by three other sopping Elves, including Arandur.

Lostiâ grit his teeth, lowering his ambition a notch and deciding that unless he wanted a mutiny he might want to encourage the lighting of a fire and the drying of clothes and hair. Anyway, it did sound desirable and he doubted that as far south as they were anyone would notice a little light. It might attract some…disruptive and hungry insects and arachnids though, but they could live with that. The cave didn't look overly difficult to fortify.

Nodding his consent, Legolas' uncle glanced down at his nephew and then his eyes landed on a particularly dark and insolated corner. There was a leak where the stone had split from freezing and thawing, causing the corner to be dank and cold, creating the perfect place, in his mind, for shoving his captive.

Gripping Legolas tightly by the back of his neck, Lostiâ forcefully shoved him to his stomach on the ground, pinning him there until he set his foot between the prisoner's shoulder blades. Grinding his heel painfully into Legolas' spine, he began to untie the bonds that had been tied off using a special knot he had come up with ages ago that was impossible for one to untie if they hadn't seen it tied. Anyway, the ropes were too close to Legolas' skin to sever them properly.

Legolas writhed on the ground in quiet panic for a moment and then froze as he felt the blood rush back into his hands, causing him no small amount of pain as his fingertips' nerves began to feel once more. Hissing in a sharp intake of breath, Legolas tried not to show the aggressive discomfort he was experiencing.

He had to admit that he was mildly confused as to why his bonds were being removed and swirled his eyes upward to try and get a look at what his uncle was doing. Obviously he wasn't overly worried about an escape attempt, which Legolas knew was impossible anyway because he still felt slightly groggy from the loss of a good percentage of his blood and the knock on the head.

Settling to rest his face in the dirt because he was too tired and frustrated to do anything else, Legolas closed his eyes, shutting out the image of cold stone that surrounded them all. If he didn't have to look at it he felt slightly better, though it really didn't do anything for the circumstances.

Suddenly he found himself being grasped by the back of his tunic and being assertively flipped over onto his back so he was looking up at Lostiâ and beyond him, the daunting ceiling of the cavern. Blue eyes wide in surprise, the prince tried to squirm backwards, out of reach, but his uncle curled his fingers around his shirt collar and pulled him back. "If I were you, Legolas, I would first of all, stop trying to get away, because it isn't going to work and secondly, be very quiet."

Legolas remained quiet and stopped trying to wriggle free, staring up into his uncle's belligerent eyes. Lostia mistook this for compliance and grabbed one of Legolas' arms and wrapped the rope ceremoniously around the wrist before starting to take the other when Legolas yanked his arm free and used his feet to propel himself backwards, kicking his uncle in the chest.

He managed only to get around three feet between himself and his captor before he was swiftly pounced upon and pinned to the earth by his neck. Lostiâ pressed his fingers even further into the younger Elf's throat, trapping Legolas' inhale in his lungs and keeping fresh air from entering. He watched as Legolas strove to gulp down air and then stopped, as he understood it was useless. "You just insist on getting under my skin, don't you?" snarled the elder Elf as he observed Legolas' face turning an interesting shade of red and his eyes seemed to swell as moisture gathered on their surface.

Legolas winced in surprise as he felt the sharp contact of a hand across his face. Trying to draw a breath he became panicked as he realized it was impossible and the blows were still falling in rapid succession, causing his face to burn. Tasting hot and salty blood in his mouth as it dribbled from a broken lip, Legolas tried once again to inhale sharply and felt terror grip him again, determining that his breathing was still unworkable.

His mind was slightly addled from the oxygen deprivation and he shut his eyes to try and shield them from the powerful blows. All his senses had ceased working save for his hearing, but the only thing he could perceive was the pumping of blood through his ears and the throbbing of his racing heart.

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Elrond walked quietly and slowly in the darkness of the many corridors of Thranduil's vast palace. He had tried to sleep for several hours and nothing was working. He felt guilt in his heart for letting Estel go alone to see if Legolas was all right. He hadn't heard from either of them and his heart was troubled greatly at thinking both of the youths were lost.

He had been pacing the way he was now for at least two hours and sitting and thinking for at least one. He had the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that they were both in serious trouble. Estel should have come back, he knew the human may be careless once in a great while but he was sure that if he was able Estel would come and give him a report on what had transpired.

For the first time in a long time Elrond felt scared. He felt scared of losing the boy he had raised from a toddler and loved like a son. Estel was one of his sons and he felt terror gripping his heart as he thought of losing him as he knew Thranduil would feel terror if he knew the danger Legolas as in right now.

It was a cold feeling that made a sweat start on his palms. Estel was getting on to being an adult in human years, being in his early twenties but he still should of never had to go and look for Legolas alone like that. A young human was a reckless human. A young Elf was a reckless Elf. In Elrond's mind the two were not always a good combination.

Deciding that Thranduil should hear of this if he didn't already know, Elrond began his way towards the Elvenking's bedchambers, not taking the time to wait for a servant. A bright flash of lightning revealed his path to him as he went, causing odd shadows to dance on the walls and on the floor.

TBC….aw, well, there will be worse cliffies to come….but not too much worse! Aragon is falling, falling and nobody is there to catch him…and as for Leoglas….mauahahahahahahaha! Poor Thranduil is also going to have a very rude awakening as well! Please review! Pretty please! Thank you! We are dying to hear what you all think and look forward to reading your reactions to this chapter and, as always, constructive criticism is most welcome!

Review responses for chapter eight will be mailed as soon as possible. If you haven't gotten a review responseand you wanted one, let us know, because our e-mail is acting strangely and generally being stupid. ;)