Well, here's chapter eleven, as promised ;-) Got to go get some of that turkey... -drools-
See chapter one for disclaimer. Reviewer responses... Oh, that's right, I'm not doing them this time (but I can't wait to try out the new feature they have on here!)
Chapter 11: Afraid of Nothing
"They're both missing!" Elladan practically yelled.
Dolenil flinched. Dinerion certainly hadn't chosen the best way to break the news. Coming right out and saying, "your brother and your best friend have mysteriously disappeared, and now are being used as hostages" was not the gentlest way they could have told the Sons of Elrond. Still, at least it was out now.
"But why didn't you send word?" Elladan demanded rather harshly.
"Forgive me, hir-nin, but―" Dolenil started.
"El, it's only been a couple of hours since Dinerion nearly died!" Elrohir interjected quickly. "Calm down. They've been doing their best in very difficult circumstances."
Elladan stopped immediately, the edge of his anger being replaced by a measure of guilt. "Forgive me, Dolenil… Elrohir's right. I know you've been doing everything in your power." He paced back and forth across the small room. "I am sorry for the unwarranted outburst, but what I feared so much has finally happened."
"What you feared, my lord?" Dolenil asked, puzzled.
Elrohir nodded sadly. "We received a letter from Acharndil―that is why we came so quickly. We'd hoped to reach Mirkwood and warn Estel."
"So what do we do now?" Dinerion spoke up in a small voice, still conscious of the outburst his last comment had provoked.
Elladan glanced out the window at the darkening sky and clenched his jaw. "It's nearly night, but I cannot even think of sleep now." They all nodded in agreement. Encouraged by the support, Elladan narrowed his eyes in thought. "Very well then. I think it is time we figured out the identity of this talented, and highly elusive, visitor we've been having."
Dolenil frowned. "How, my lord?"
A sly smile flitted across Elladan's face. "We go straight to the very best information source."
"And who would that be?" Elrohir eyed his brother furtively.
Elladan clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Not who, but where, muindor. Surely your remember all Estel taught us about taverns?"
Elrohir chuckled. "Ah, yes, why didn't I think of it?"
Unable to resist, Elladan said swaggeringly, "I always said I was the brains of the family." Moving on before his brother could react, he put his hand on the doorknob. "Come on, we've got an assassin to track, and precious little time to do it in."
"We are going to spend the evening…downstairs?" Dolenil hedged nervously.
Elladan's eyes glittered with amusement. "Downstairs? No, the common room here is much too tame and sophisticated for us to find the kind of scum we're looking for."
Dolenil tried not to show his alarm. "Tame and sophisticated?"
Elladan had to work hard not to smile at the elf's obvious phobia of taverns. "Oh yes, we're going to have to go right down to the real muck of this town if we want to get anywhere in our search."
Shuddering, Dolenil followed the other elves out of the room.
Elrohir pulled his cloak around him and shifted his hood further forward. Where they were going, it was better that their race remain unknown. Their keen hearing and their ability to be inconspicuous would be their greatest assets tonight.
Lost in his own thoughts and wonderings about what the night's conclusion would be, he kept his eyes on Elladan's back, following him instinctively. Dolenil, grim-faced, walked beside them with Dinerion. All of them wore their hoods far forward, casting shadows across their faces in the dim lantern-light.
"Well, here we are." Elladan said quietly, stopping so suddenly that Elrohir nearly ran into him.
They looked up at the crude sign swinging over the door of an even cruder building.
"'TheHairyDwarf'?" Dolenil read slowly, a rare smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"Don't judge a book by it's cover," Elladan said, giving Dolenil an admonitory look. He grinned mischievously. "It's bound to be different inside."
He was right. It was far worse inside. The open door revealed a room, overcrowded and squalid. Smoke and other, even fouler smells immediately greeted them. Somewhere in the wreaths of smoke, some intoxicated client was singing a song jarringly off tune. Even Elladan had to resist the urge to cover his ears and run back out into the night.
It took a great deal of effort to go beyond their first hesitant step into the doorway, but Elladan quickly recovered, taking a firm step forward. Elrohir and Dinerion followed on Elladan's heels. Dolenil, only through practiced self-control and sheer determination, convinced himself to follow in the rear.
It was easy enough for four, darkly-cloaked figures to slip through the crowded room unnoticed. They sat down at a table with the best vantage of the rest of the tables they could find, while still remaining out of the way, and tried to look inconspicuous. Unfortunately, there was no hope that they'd escape the notice of the innkeeper's all-seeing gaze.
He waded through the mass of people up to their table and cleared his throat nosily before asking in his gruff voice, "And what can I get for you tonight, gentlemen?"
Elladan searched his brain frantically for an answer. Memories of Aragorn's cool manner of dealing in taverns resurfaced just in time to rescue him. "We'll all have the house brew," he replied nonchalantly. To his relief, the innkeeper nodded and left.
Elrohir, glad for the protection his hood afforded him, couldn't help but smile at the way Elladan was imitating Estel. After the innkeeper had returned and left once more, Elladan handling the situation like an expert, he couldn't help but remark, "Strider would have been proud of you, El." Under the dark recess of his hood, he was sure Elladan was rolling his eyes.
After the short attempt at humor, silence fell over the small company of elves. Their nerves calmed somewhat as they acclimated to the stuffy room, and they began to focus their keen hearing, singling out different conversations.
A half-hour passed.
An hour.
Each minute that ticked by seemed to compound the fruitlessness of their mission. A man, one table over, was making their job difficult, prattling on in a voice made high, no doubt, by too much liquor. Thankfully, the discordant singing had stopped, but the over-all din of the room was still confusing.
Elladan banged his fist down on the table. The noise went unnoticed, swallowed up in the cacophony around them. "This is hopeless!" he growled. "We don't even know exactly what we're listening for!" His eyes, which had been resting on his brother across the table, suddenly looked past him. A look of disbelief crossed his face. "No. It can't be…"
The three other elves at the table turned their heads slowly, trying not to attract attention. Elrohir was the first to see what―or rather whom―Elladan had noticed. The first word out of his mouth was uttered with identical surprise. "Dagron?" Perhaps they should have expected that where Acharndil was, Dagron was likely to be near, but still… The last they'd heard, he was still safely confined in the Strayton prison. To find him here, now, was an unpleasant surprise, to say the least.
Dinerion, who'd finally been told most of the story concerning Acharndil and his cousin, watched the coarse man with growing uneasiness.
A low exclamation of anger escaped Dolenil. "That monster, we should never have allowed…"
Elrohir cut him off, whispering fiercely, "Quiet! We must not alert him to our presence."
"Not alert him to our presence?" Elladan looked ready to spring. "Oh, I intend to do a lot more than that…" he said darkly.
"El," Elrohir put a restraining arm on his brother's shoulder. "don't be an idiot. Right now we need to follow him, not mutilate him. He's the best lead we've had all night! Don't ruin this chance to find Estel and Legolas. It may be our only one."
Elladan was still tense, and his eyes were glued menacingly on Dagron, but he nodded.
"If we ever survive this, Ada is going to ground me for the next decade."
Aragorn, who'd been dozing lightly, turned his head slightly to his right to look at Legolas. He gave his friend a strange look. "Where did that come from?"
"I'm not entirely sure…" Legolas smiled. "I was just thinking of the kind of reception we'll get when we return." He repeated resignedly, "Ada is going to ground me for the next decade…"
Shaking his head, Aragorn chuckled. "You always come up with the most cheerful subjects to discuss when we're being held captive, mellon-nín."
Legolas chuckled, and then silence fell for a moment.
"You really think Thranduil will ground you?"
It was Legolas' turn to look at Aragorn. "Definitely."
"Well, I'll be sure to come visit you."
"And where do you think you're going to be? Free to roam?"
Aragorn nodded thoughtfully. "You have a point there. Elladan probably won't let me out for a couple of years at least."
"At least," Legolas agreed.
"I don't see why they're always punishing us for getting into trouble; it's not like we choose to be in a perpetual state of captivity." The ranger sighed heavily, resting his head back against the pillar with a dull "thump" as he tried to east the stiffness brought on by being tied so long in one position. As he shifted his hands restlessly in the tight roped that held them, he suddenly felt something cold and sharp dig into them, and let out a muted yelp of surprise, quickly silenced to avoid attracting attention.
"What?" Legolas asked, straining to see the cause of his friends alarm.
Aragorn rubbed his pricked hand as well as he could with the other, looking sheepish and annoyed at the same time. "Nothing…Just a nail."
Their eyes met for a moment as they silently came to the same realization.
Legolas repeated the words meaningfully, "Just a nail?"
A knowing smile spread slowly across Aragorn's face.
It took much self-control on Elladan's part – as well as a considerable amount of restraint from Elrohir - to keep himself seated while Dagron dawdled away his time, minute after minute.
They all watched him drain his third mug, willing it to be his last. It was all they could do to keep from rushing after him when he rose, brusquely slapping down the money he owed the innkeeper before stumbling towards the door.
"Slowly…" Elladan said under his breath, as if to warn himself.
They wound their way through the crowd, trying to remain as inconspicuous in their exit as when they had entered. Elrohir paid the innkeeper on their way, without sparing the man so much as a glance, his eyes fixed on Dagron's retreating figure as he cleared the doorway. Elladan reached the door first, and peered out into the street just in time to see Dagron turn a corner to their left and disappear. He motioned to his companions and they slipped out into the night. They hurried down the street, their soft elven boots rendering them completely silent. Reaching it, they were once again just able to see which way Dagron turned.
As he continued to lead them through more alleys, and across more streets, Elrohir was careful to count the number of turns and keep a general bearing on where they were. His knowledge of the town might be limited, but it wouldn't hurt to try. No matter how all-important rescuing Estel and Legolas was, knowing where they were once they'd accomplished that just might be useful. Elladan seemed far from thinking about practical matters at the moment, so that left him to keep track.
Thankfully, he noticed that Dagron wasn't making his trail nearly as complicated to follow as he could have. Apparently three mugs of ale did nothing to accentuate the man's intellect or resourcefulness. If he didn't exactly make a bee-line for wherever he was going, he certainly didn't make more than half-a-dozen unnecessary twists. As far as he knew, those turns might just as much have been from a slight drunken confusion, as from any real cleverness.
Elrohir only hoped that Dagron wasn't lost, or leading them to some dank hole of his own. He feared that if they didn't find Acharndil's hideout soon, choices would be put before them they couldn't possibly make.
TBC...
NOW I will go get some turkey! -scampers off to the kitchen-