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Chapter Thirty-One

Ghost Hunt

It had been a long three days. Legolas paced the room irritably, angry with himself that he had not gone to the trial, nor witnessed or received conformation of the elf-slayer's demise. He wasn't sure yet which was bothering him more. He had gotten satisfaction for those whom he had loved...but why would the tension not leave his body? Why would the medallion not leave his haunted mind? He paced his room again, glancing every so often out his large, single window out to the city and the forest beyond.

He absentmindedly fingered the medallion where it laid on his chest. Yes, Faerlain and his mother would get the justice they deserved. He scowled at the mystery Saronedhel had left behind...where she had gotten the medallion...and what had she done to Faerlain to get it. He would find out someday...somehow. But the answers all seemed to evade his grasp, and the more he thought on the puzzle, the more frustrated he became.

Turning swiftly, he exited his room and made his way to the dining hall. It was early as of yet, but, as usual, he found Aragorn seated and already eating. There was a troubled look on the human's face, a question of uneasiness as he nibbled aimlessly on a piece of bread. The elf seated himself across from his friend and watched with slight amusement as his friend jerked from his stupor back into reality.

"Sleep well?" Legolas asked as he shifted his position in the chair, glancing briefly at the human's untouched meal. Aragorn shrugged, the uneasiness seeping back into his rugged features.

"What's wrong?" He asked, concern evident in his voice at his friend's unusual behavior. "Are you well?"

"Fine." Aragorn replied, he paused, set the bread on his plate and clasped his hands before him, elbows on the wooden table. "Haven't you found it strange that no one has reported Saronedhel's death?"

Legolas tried to shrug the troubled thoughts that clouded his own mind on the subject. "I was not present at the trial...they would have reported directly to my father."

"But would no one say anything? Is justice kept that quiet in Eryn Lasgalen?"

Legolas frowned, the thoughts drifting back of their own accord. "Then you've heard nothing either."

"No one has. No report has been given...which I thought was required after any sort of punishment."

"It is...but as I said-"

"I know... it's your father's business. But wouldn't he share that information with you? He knows you were connected to this case. Besides that, why would he conceal it from you and the whole of Mirkwood?"

No, the pieces were not fitting in at all. Legolas felt a fit of uneasiness curling inside of him and he instinctively clutched at the medallion. Surely Saronedhel must of been executed...there had been a company of twenty of his warriors. Twenty against a weak human woman. The odds were impossible. "I don't like it." He said grimly, trying to think of a way to solve the riddle.

"Neither do I. But what do you propose to do about it?" Aragorn asked, looking at the elf for answers to the unsolved puzzle.

"I'm not sure."

There was a sudden commotion in the kitchen across the hall and the voices of the elves within suddenly grew to a nervous pitch. Legolas stood sharply, listening for the reason of their uneasiness. A servant girl came running out in the direction of the main hall. Legolas intercepted her with a quick jerk of his hand and she stopped, staring at him through wide, blue eyes.

"What has happened? What is the reason for all this fuss?" He demanded, gazing intently at her.

"Forgive me my Liege." She said hurriedly. "The city is in an uproar-she had struck again!"

"Who? Who is she that you speak?" Asked Aragorn, coming up to stand next to his friend.

The young elf maiden's eyes darted between them with a look of bewilderment on her face. "Do you not know my lords? She...Gwenél! A band of warriors had gone out hunting and they found eighteen more victims!"

"Eighteen?" Legolas exclaimed in astonishment.

"Yes-on the outskirts of the forest. They are being brought in now. But that isn't all. Those found were the very ones supposed to execute the elf-slayer. The head executioner's axe is bloody...but the elf-slayer's body is no where to be found."

"What will you do?" Asked Aragorn quietly that night.

It was true, the rumors. Gwenél had indeed struck again, and had harmed eighteen of Mirkwood's warriors. Legolas sighed, shook his head, this was becoming far too difficult now. They had gone immediately to see the warriors. All had suffered from the same illness, the amnesia, slight insanity and weakness. None could walk. It was strange, very strange. And even as he had walked into the room where frantic healers darted between the numerous warriors, he could not help but notice a certain smell in the air. Faint, yes, but still noticeable. Sweet and soft...gentle...he was stirred out of his meditations by a sharp jerk to reality. This was no ghost. Well, no ordinary ghost anyway.

Gwenél was real...and she was a danger to his people. A danger that needed and had to be stopped. "I think we have only choice mellon nin."He said, his voice cool and collected. "I think we're going on that Ghost Hunt after all."

Sorry for the long delay, school has been unbearable (nearly anyway) and I wanted to finish my other LotR story so that I could concentrate on this one. Updates are coming! I promise you! Just give me some time and don't worry, I'm not leaving this story out to die. :)

Thanks to all who reviewed and to Kiann for betaing!

TO BE CONTINUED...