Summerland of the Heart

by Elfriend

Post WotR, Legolas is called home to Mirkwood from Gondor by his father. Thranduil has fallen afoul of dark magic left in Dol Guldur. Legolas is imperiled and his friends go to his aid. Also Haldir. OC AU multi crossover Angst MarySue with substance

5. Summerland Chapters 24 to 29

Naeore Laerien (Summerland of the Heart)

Chapter 24:

Omen of Death

It had taken long to render down the blood of the sacrifices and make with it the thirteen massive candles that were central to the spell, but at last preparations were complete. It pained him to have to resort to so extreme a measure as a spell of this magnitude, but Thranduil was fighting for the future of the elves. Any personal sacrifice on his part must be endured for the greater good.

As the elven king trimmed the wick of the thirteenth candle and placed it carefully in the diagram he had drawn upon the floor an orc shambled in.

"Master, there is news!"

His lip curled in distaste and Thranduil wondered again whether it was truly necessary to use these creatures, but until the threat to the elves was past he would employ whatever tools came to hand. There would be time enough to exterminate these twisted beings, then.

"I gave instructions that I was to remain undisturbed, yrch!"

"But, my lord said you wanted to be told when them sent to dispatch the prince got here. They was ambushed, master, by elves come out from the Hidden Land! Only Griszilk and his lads made it. They never saw no sign of the prince."

"Of that much I was already aware. But elves set against me! This I do not understand." Thranduil paced, rubbing his jaw, "It matters not! I am prepared to do what I must. In time they will see…

"Have Griszilk executed and replaced. I cannot have servants that fail and flee! Now leave me and let it be known that the next to disturb me will be meat for his fellows tonight."

"My Lord!" the orc acknowledged and backed quickly from the chamber, closing the heavy door.

So motivated was the creature to put distance between itself and its master that it saw nothing of the two who were skillfully concealed in the shadows. When it had gone, the pair slipped close enough to observe the centermost tower of the keep through the murder hole in the door. What they saw was more terrible than even their worst imaginings.

Thranduil was completing a circuit within the round room, his maddened eyes and his jeweled torque afire in the flickering light of torches set in brackets upon the wall. He carried a bowl into which he dipped his fingers, and with his hand dripping thick and dark with blood, he traced a symbol upon the stone. Similar marks had been placed at intervals about the room, and this was the last. When it was complete, the torque around Thranduil's neck suddenly shone more brightly and there was an answering blaze in the symbols of blood until it seemed they caught fire and burnt themselves into the wall. When the flames died, the symbols were a faintly glowing sickly green and there was a sulfurous stench in the air.

Then the elven king looked up at the high windows as though to gauge the time, and moved purposefully to the stone table centered within the tower. About this altar a diagram of white chalk and many foul symbols had been drawn. Set at intersecting points in the diagram there were thirteen enormous candles of a strange and disturbing color, like rust. Hanging over all was a heavy brass gong.

Thranduil set the stone bowl in the center of the table, and held what looked to be a bit of rope over it upon his open palm. He mumbled some words that the listeners could not catch, and then he took what he held by an end and held the other to a glowing coal from an iron brazier set also upon the table. When the flickering torchlight shone upon it, it became clear that this was no rope, for it was glowing golden and alive, as it had before it was severed.

Nenuiel gasped, dismayed. Whilst she had treated her son's many wounds, it had not escaped her notice that a bit of his braid had been cut. And now Thranduil was engaged in some hideous rite using their son's hair!

With only one thought, Legolas's mother fumbled for the handle of the door – whatever was about to happen must not be allowed! But Galion seized her shoulder forestalling her and spoke urgently into her mind, "Look at the handle, my Queen, he has warded the room against intrusion. I do not know what would happen were you to touch it, for these arts my king uses are foul!"

And indeed an ominous light of spectrous green bathed the iron door latch. "Did you see, Galion? He has Legolas's hair! I fear what he will do! I fear what he has already done."

"Let us watch and listen, Nenuiel. We cannot stop him, but if we learn what he intends we may be able to counter it!" was Galion's response.

The bit of braid was smoldering and Thranduil knelt with it before one of the tall candles. Then spoke in a clear and terrible voice, "ghâsh agh burzum krimpûkhai…"

The queen moaned as the black speech seemed to pass through her, freezing her blood. Galion flinched, but forced himself to listen. Their purpose was to discover what Thranduil meant to accomplish, and he was determined to succeed; even if every syllable his king uttered was as a hammerstroke upon his mind. Then Thranduil lit the candle with Legolas's burning hair and the gong hung above the table sounded as though struck.

Suddenly it was as if the earth beneath them had become one gigantic echoing gong, it shuddered beneath their feet with a cavernous boom and Galion put a supporting arm around Nenuiel whose eyes were wide with horror.

By the third repetition of the spell and the third resonant quaking, Galion had worked out the meaning of Thranduil's words. One look at his queen told him that she had also divined the purpose of this evil sorcery. Her pale hands both clutched at her heart and she buckled at the knees, slowly sliding down the wall.

A fourth rumbling gong sounded and a fine powder of masonry filled the air. "I must get you away from here, your majesty!" Galion said, not bothering with mind-speech or even to keep his voice low, for Thranduil was all but bellowing the appalling spell a fifth time. Galion tried to help his lady to rise, but she was numbed with shock, so instead he lifted her and carried her, stumbling from the fortress as the earth heaved once more.

There was confusion all around the Hill of Black Magic with orc running in every direction. That is all that saved the fleeing elves, for the sun was a memory of twilight, now. This was orc time.

Into the woods Galion sped with the queen in his arms while a sixth quake shuddered, until he came to the place where their stricken people with their few hale fellows would seek sanctuary through the night. There he laid Nenuiel beneath a sheltering tree and wrapped blankets about her, for she was like ice. Chafing her wrists, he called to her again and again, until at last her eyes fluttered open and she spoke on an anguished moan, "Tûr nin údan sén nin!" My lord would unmake my son!

Then Nenuiel clutched once more at her heart and would say no more. The elves not anesthetized by the sickness gathered close, anxious to know what evil transpired in Dol Guldur and what was amiss with the queen. But Galion could offer them no comfort, for as the gonging continued seven more times, a dread suspicion grew in his heart. This was necromancy, and necromancy requires sacrifice. Thirteen candles had stood in the tower.

Thirteen candles for thirteen elven lives – elves that had lived for thousands of years. Immortal elves whose lives need not have ended – murdered by the hand of their king.

Ëarlinden, Vardasén, Eithelisse, Ortanemá, Únainië, Alphmorna, Isillúva, Luinëmir, Tiërandir, Auremae, Menelhenneth, Fimloth and sweet, fair Nimírië.

XXX

Even traveling in numbers, elves could travel like wind. They had sped through the day with the briefest of stops to ease the horses, and kept on until the last rays of the sun were visible.

Whilst the camp was being prepared, Haldir and Legolas strode the perimeter together as had become their habit, familiarizing themselves with its layout. But as they passed the horselines the air froze in Legolas's lungs without warning and he shuddered as icy fingers squeezed his heart.

Haldir halted when he realized his friend had fallen behind. "Legolas, what ails you?" he asked in concern when he saw the sudden pallor of his companion's face.

The prince's eyes were wide, "Evil!" he whispered. "Can you not feel it?"

But Haldir did not - not until the shivering echo of a gong followed the first guttural hiss of dark speech. Legolas gave a cry of pain and grief the depths of which gave Haldir pause, and crumpled where he stood to lie writhing upon the ground.

XXX

Meg was stirring the contents of a cook pot, when the fire began suddenly to dance in the windless night. Lord Elrond sat forward in alarm just as words of evil blew through the camp like an omen of death followed by a tremor that was as much heard as felt.

"What is that, my lord?!" Feia asked looking around as though for an approaching foe.

The spell sounded again, slightly louder now, and Elrond leapt to his feet, "It is Thranduil!"

"Legolas!" Gimli cried and was running in search of his friend before the second heaving shudder began. Feia with Elessar ran hard on his heels with Lord Elrond and Meg following closely.

The dark speech, loud enough now so that all the elves they passed were wincing and covering their ears, had come again and gone, along with a third resonant rumble when Gimli skidded to a halt, for Haldir shot out an arm to forestall him from interfering. The others were each halted in turn.

A sickly green mist surrounded Legolas who was pale and gasping; sheen of perspiration slicked his brow and his eyes fluttered and rolled showing whites.

Haldir warned, "Legolas has said that we must not…" But Feia was already pushing past his restraining arm toward her fallen husband.

"Do not let it touch you!" Legolas grated between pain-clenched teeth.

Then the foul spell came again and Legolas moaned, his back arching, heels scoring the earth. The unwholesome mist grew thicker and swirled around him. And when the fourth gong sounded he called out weakly, "Ada! úhen!" Father! not this!

Feia had frozen in place with both her hands pressed to her mouth. Her knees held her undependably, but Meg was holding her shoulders firmly and she leaned into her friend.

Elessar barked, "What can we do? Lord Elrond! What!?"

"Naught, I fear," the wise elf confessed as the earth heaved a fifth time. "This battle must be fought by Legolas alone."

"Can he beat it?" Elessar insisted, "What is the spell's purpose? Can it kill him?"

Legolas breath came fast and shallow, agony contorted his body and a continuous flow of tears streamed from his eyes and into his hair. When the sixth rumble came, he cried in despair, "Alphmorna!" And then the imperiled elf clutched at his heart with a groan.

"We will see whether he can beat it, for I cannot say." Elrond responded, frowning at Legolas from where he crouched beside the prone elf prince, just outside the thickening mist. "This spell is old and evil. I have not heard the words spoken aloud before, but I have seen the results of it. The Enemy used it to destroy elves' souls, so that he could twist and corrupt their bodies over time. This is how orc were made."

Elrond paused as the horror of his words took hold of his listeners and the seventh gong reverberated through the camp. Then he said, "It can kill him. It is meant to worse than kill him"

"Light! Oh, Light!" Meg whispered, but Feia only gave a long low moan and slid to her knees drawing her sister with her.

"Come on, Laddie!" Gimli cheered his friend softly.

Lord Elrond began a whispered chant, holding his palms out toward the treacherous mist. It may be that there was nothing he could do, but that would not prevent his trying.

The spell repeated an eighth time, a ninth and Feia wondered if it would reach an end, or if it would continue to wear away her husband's strength until none was left.

Ten…eleven…Legolas lay almost still, now, though his chest rose and fell with each rasping breath. He was fighting for every one. The seething mist hung so heavily over him that it seemed it sought to smother him.

At each repetition of the spell, the words came louder and clearer until they might have been coming from everywhere, even from inside their minds. Many of the elves had fallen, clutching at their heads. But some, like Glorfindel and the son's of Elrond, who were able to interpret the words, sought out Legolas in his peril.

Haldir kept each of them back from his suffering friend. A twelfth repetition of the spell caused the afflicted elf to gasp deeply and choke as the evil green substance rushed down his throat. His body arched again as he struggled to expel it, gagging.

"Meg!" Feia cried, clinging to her friend's arms where they circled her shoulders.

"I cannot help him if I cannot touch him, Serafé!" Meg answered the unspoken plea.

Glorfindel sank into a crouch on the opposite side of Legolas from Lord Elrond and, mirroring him, also began to chant softly.

At the thirteenth gong, Legolas rolled shakily to his elbows and knees. Feia heard him whisper, "Nimírië…" But then he collapsed to lie unmoving, his limbs unable to support him. At that moment, the mist simply ceased to be.

Before Feia could move, both Elessar and Meg were crouching beside the motionless elf. Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel continued to chant softly for a few moments, but when they stopped an unnatural quiet settled over the encampment.

Elessar rolled Legolas over and his fair skin showed pale white - the fey light of an elf extinguished from him. Feia was immobile with dread, fearing confirmation of what her eyes were seeing. Gimli had taken Meg's place at her side. He tightened his hold on her and she relied wholly on the burly dwarf's strength.

"Meg…" Feia managed.

The elven healer had her lain her hand on Legolas's brow and she shook her head perplexed, "There is nothing to heal, and yet I sense injury – serious injury."

All at once, Legolas gasped and his eyes flew open – wide with horror and grief. Blinking rapidly his gaze flickered over his friends, his wife, and the high elven lords almost without recognition, but it seemed then that his thoughts ordered themselves for he curled in upon himself with a cry. The sound was distinctly elvish; an almost primal howl of grief, and it went on endlessly. Feia felt it tear a vast gulf between them, for she could never comprehend this kind of pain. Humans simply could not cope with as much.

When Feia had faced the loss of her home and her people, there had been times when she might have believed she were grieving each of her losses one by one – and perhaps she had been! To embrace the depth and breadth of her pain would have caused her to go mad! And so her mind and heart had healed one tiny piece at a time. Legolas's mind and heart were not giving him that option.

When the ululating cry ceased and Legolas lay winded and still, Lord Elrond said sternly, "Legolas!"

"Úpedo utuán marsi!" Legolas all but moaned. Do not ask that I remain!

Gimli caught his breath at Feia's ear, and she said shakily, "What can he mean?! What is he saying?" Gimli only braced her more firmly as she sagged into him.

"Yatiënna nályë, Thranduilsén?" What path will you choose, son of Thranduil? Elrond asked.

Elessar gasped at this tactic, for it seemed to him most cruel to persuade the elf to live by means of the burden of his birth. And yet, perhaps painful duty would work where the love of his friends would not. Love forgives. Duty is merciless.

The prince of the woodland elves was trembling violently. With enormous effort, he rose up on his arms and worked his knees under him. Haldir hated to contemplate what the exertion was costing his friend. He longed to lend a steadying hand, but sensed it would not be welcomed. Instead he crossed to his wife's side where she knelt, thwarted in her desire to give healing aid. She looked up at him mutely when he touched her shoulder, but she did not resist as he helped her to rise and guided her a few steps away.

Legolas had made it nearly to his feet, but he collapsed back to hands and knees and was forced to try again. As his legs gave way, Haldir saw Elessar make an involuntary move toward the fallen elf, hand outstretched, but then the king arrested the motion, allowing his hand to drop. When Legolas struggled up again, he managed a teetering step toward the dark fringe of the camp.

"Nályëian?" Are you whole? Lord Elrond asked, but Legolas ignored him and continued to stumble away. Legolas! Stumbling. Feia wanted to help him, she wanted to weep; she thought she might be sick.

"Legolas! Nályëian?" Elrond insisted.

Legolas paused, but would not meet Lord Elrond's eyes. "Nas unen!" the grieving elf whispered. It matters not!

Elrond moved in front of Legolas and gripped the woodland elf's jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Nályëian?!" Elrond demanded.

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed in a breath, "Thonden nae ore iënin ná otanet onin." The root of my soul is torn from out of me. Then, "Hiruvalyë e fimlain námarren na nwalme nin." But a slim thread remains to torment me still.

Turning away from the elven lord, Legolas added a whispered, "Maruvan." I will abide. And lurched away, coming up short when he saw Feia kneeling in Gimli's arms.

Feia felt her heart constrict when those eyes locked upon her and she watched as they flickered through emotions more rapidly than she could identify them. At last her concinnate said, "Return to Rivendell. Take the gate to Gwynedd…and close it."

The finality of that statement – of that order, caused Feia physical pain. But she straightened, letting Gimli's arm fall away, and then she stood and answered with remarkable calm.

"No."

Legolas flinched and closed his eyes. "You are not wanted here," he rasped. In the firelight, Feia could see that sweat drenched her husband, and his breathing was uneven. He did not appear capable of standing, much less walking, but he looked her in the eye and said, "Get out of my sight!" and with that Legolas limped into the darkness to be alone with his grief.

Chapter 25:

They Shall Have No Rest

As Feia stowed her gear, Elessar, Gimli and Haldir observed her silently. Meg however, had no trouble finding her voice.

"You will not truly return to Gwynedd," she was nearly convincing in her confidence, but she spoiled it by asking, "will you?"

Feia paused to give Meg her flat, expressionless gaze for a moment, and then returned to gathering her things.

Meg answered herself, "No! No of course you will not." Then she tried, "He could not have meant…He would not want you to go! Not forever." She looked at Haldir, "Would he?"

Then she answered herself again, shaking her head, "He is grieving, and injured. I could sense it, but I could not heal it." Meg's voice did nothing to disguise her professional affront that a thing she could sense as wrong would not submit to her healing skill, but she continued, "He is not thinking clearly – that is all. You are his concinnate, what he feels for you is powerful – but it is still new. With everything else…perhaps it is just too much."

Her pack ready, Feia slung it over her shoulder and stood. Elessar stepped in front of her, "It is too dangerous now for one person to travel alone! Take Gimli with you! Together, you will have a better chance of getting through. Go to Minas Tirith. I do not doubt that Arwen would be pleased to have a female friend with her."

Feia smiled slightly, "Befriending your wife is an honorable charge and one I should very much like, but you misunderstand my intentions, Sire. I am not leaving. And if I were, I would not take Gimli even if he would go. Legolas needs every bow, every sword, and," she smiled down at Gimli, "every axe. You cannot think that Gimli would leave him, now?"

"I would if it were to protect his heart!" Gimli said gruffly, "Your sister is right, lassie! The lad is not thinking clearly, speaking to you as he did. If you went away and aught happened to you, he could never forgive himself. And never is a mighty long while for his lot. I would leave him for that – for both of ye!"

Feia reached out and gently brushed the dwarf's craggy face. So dear! So dear he had become in the weeks she had known him – the more for his devotion to her beloved. "Thank you, my lord," she said and then turned back to the king. "But as I said, I am not leaving. He told me to take the gate and not return. That I will not do! But I can and I will honor his second request. If the sight of me causes him pain, then he shall not see me. I am moving my camp to where the pack animals are picketed and there I shall remain invisible."

"Not alone!" Meg said firmly, and began to quickly gather her own belonings. Feia waited. There was wisdom in holding one's tongue when Meg used that particular tone, since arguing with it was the next thing to impossible. And Feia did not wish to be by herself. She was not sure she could bear the gnawing loneliness within her and also be alone in truth.

When Meg was ready, the elven lady rose up on her toes and kissed Haldir's cheek, "Keep that troublesome elf safe, my love, for when he is sufficiently recovered I will want the opportunity to gift him with the rough side of my tongue!"

"Nás navelyë pedo, bereth nin!" It shall be as you say, my wife! Haldir responded with a slight smile and a bow.

It took little enough time to find an out-of-the-way spot, still within the encampment's perimeter, and build a small fire for their night's camp. But when the chores were complete and there was nothing further to do with her hands; Feia simply folded in upon herself. She drew up her knees, hugging them, and wept inconsolably.

Meg gathered her sister close and held her until, too exhausted to continue, Feia slept.

XXX

The sorrow of Lady Feia was painful to witness, and Haldir thought it unlikely that she would welcome her distress being overheard, so the elf moved as silently away from the ladies' fire as he had approached it.

He had sought his wife's camp so that he could mark where she and her sister could be found if anything were to happen, for he would see to their safety. Stopping briefly to inform a sentry on duty of the camp's addition, he headed for his own rest, but he found instead that his feet carried him in the direction he had last seen Legolas.

He came upon Elessar as he searched, and they fell in together without comment. The king's face was grim and set.

Haldir heard his friend before he saw him, for Legolas's breathing was still unnaturally labored. With his back pressed to a boulder, the starlight absorbed by his too-pale skin, Legolas sat in a posture that mirrored his wife's, had he but known it. His legs were drawn up and he huddled over his knees.

"Do not ask me to speak of it," Legolas said without looking up.

"Tell me, or do not," Haldir replied squatting easily. "I am not asking."

"Nor I," Elessar said as he leaned a hip against the rock.

They stayed that way in silence for some minutes, all three studying the stars. Finally Legolas said, "Has she gone?"

"Not where you would have her go," Haldir responded neutrally. This pronouncement was followed by another long silence, and from the corner of his eye Haldir watched his friend contending with the information. Then the elven prince shook himself.

"He means to obliterate my soul. He killed in order to ensure that he succeeded." His friends could tell that it was taking a supreme effort on Legolas's part to speak these words at all, much less in the almost level voice in which he delivered them, and so the Lórien elf and the king did not interrupt. Both sensed that there was more.

"Each time the spell repeated I saw him cut them down one by one. I could see their faces…and their blood. Thirteen!" Legolas shivered and his voice sounded hollow and hopeless, "My father murdered thirteen elves! They are dead because he wanted me worse than dead. They are dead because of me!"

Haldir swallowed his alarm; he could no longer remain silent. "They are dead because Thranduil is mad!" He said emphatically. "How else could he have harmed you so grievously? The madness killed them, Legolas!

"It was in no way your fault, my friend!" Elessar added. "There is nothing you could have done to save them!"

Legolas dropped his head into his arms and kept silent for so long, Haldir feared that the woodland elf would speak no more. And there was more that Legolas needed to say, of this Haldir was sure. But finally Legolas stirred and raised his head.

"Ortanemá showed me how to fletch my first arrows," he said. "Tiërandir took me hunting when I was too young and inexperienced to be of any use. I watched him and I learned how to track and take the tree paths. Únainië sang to me when I was very small. Menelhenneth taught me how to read and write and instructed me in the history of our people. He taught Nimírië and me together, for we were raised together. We learned everything together, but my father cut her throat and she is dead! They are, all of them, dead!"

Tears streamed openly down Legolas's face and he made no move to brush them away. Haldir's eyes were also wet and Elessar's breath caught with grief. It was Tiërandir's example that the king had followed as well, when learning his woodcraft. He had met all of the elves that Legolas had named. Immortal elves.

"They would be greatly comforted to know that the spell was unsuccessful," Haldir said. "Were it me, my spirit could not rest knowing my life had been spent in order that another's soul might be unmade!"

"Then there shall be no rest for them. The spell will succeed. It is not yet finished."

Legolas's words fell upon Haldir and Elessar with an almost physical weight and they each gazed in horror at their friend. "But you fought it! Legolas, you beat it!" the king exclaimed.

"The first assault, only," Legolas answered. "Perhaps it would be better had I not," the elf paused again, and then his voice dropped to a whisper as he admitted, "I do not fear death, but this!…I fear this."

Haldir shuddered. Legolas should not – must not end that way! There had to be a way to nullify what Thranduil had done. But as his mind frantically sought an escape for his friend, Legolas spoke again, "I shall need you to rouse the camp at third watch. We may not tarry, for my time is short. If I am to fulfill my duty before the end, we will be required to travel by day and by night."

Haldir was sick in his heart, but he responded, "We will rouse the camp, Legolas." As he stood and made ready to go, however, Legolas said, "Elessar, Haldir, úpedo na hen!" speak not of this!

Elessar's voice was tight, "As you wish, Legolas." Haldir only nodded, unable to use his voice, and moved, his steps heavy, toward the camp with the silent king at his side.

XXX

Feia was not precisely hiding from Legolas. There was really no way that she could do that, for even with her cloak about her, and her hood drawn up, he would know her on sight. And with Yáviëlosse for her mount and Meghailin, who rode, (likely on purpose) with her mass of eye-catching curls uncovered beside her friend, Legolas would have to be both blind and not an elf to have missed her in the entourage. She estimated he might have remained unaware of her presence until two or three hours past first light, if that. But she did her best to stay out of his way and he seemed content to pretend for the moment that he did not notice her.

The quest had grown in urgency since last night. Feia knew that Thranduil's spell had caused the change, but still she had been surprised when Haldir came to them at the end of the second watch and bade them prepare to leave at once. Legolas, with Gimli behind him on Arod remained mostly near the front of his small army, but he had made a circuit at mid-morning to speak with each of his captains and to allow the other elves to see him. Elves are not inclined toward idle gossip, but the spell had disturbed them greatly and there was much quiet speculation.

If Legolas meant to reassure them, however, he did not succeed, for his face was drawn and pale, and his eyes appeared sunken, the flesh around them bruised with weariness. Feia's brief glimpse of him was enough to fill her heart with compassion for him. Hold on, edhel nin! She prayed silently. Oh, Light, Legolas please, hold on.

Late that afternoon, Rúmil, Haldir's brother, joined them with his force of Lórien elves. There were nearly one hundred and eighty of them. Legolas, with Gimli, rode in a tight group with his captains, Elessar, and Lord Elrond, while Rúmil was briefed on the current state of the quest. But when the combined army paused for a short rest and evening meal, Haldir and his brother joined the ladies.

When Haldir introduced his wife to his brother, Rúmil bowed over Meghailin's hand saying, "It is regrettable that I was unable to be there for your wedding day, my lady, but it fell to me to harry your pursuers. When all this is done, if the Valar protect us, we shall have long years to get to know one another. I am anxious to spend more time with the lady who could so quickly steal away my brother's heart!"

Rúmil had retained her hand throughout and his eyes fell upon the ring that had been Orophin's and which he had learnt, had begun Haldir's quest. He rubbed his thumb over the emerald, "It never looked so fair upon the hand of either of my brothers."

"Thank you, my lord," Meg responded with a slight blush.

"Save your charm for a lady who is unwed, my brother, and perhaps you may be as content as I one day," Haldir said.

"Mayhap you have begun a thing that will spread through elven-kind, Haldir," Rúmil responded, "for indeed, though our quest is dire, there is in you a core of untouchable joy which I could covet. Perhaps we have been wrong these many years to pass our time until we take to the sea in an ever changeless state of remembrance." The elf shook his head in silent wonder at his own words, for the thoughts that had prompted them did come upon him unawares. Then he said, "Shall I rehearse my charm then, on this fair creature who doth accompany my new sister?"

"I have no objection to being charmed, my lord," Feia said with a small smile, "but you would receive naught but practice for your trouble. My heart is given."

"A pity," the Lórien elf said bowing over her hand as well, as Haldir quickly introduced them. Then Rúmil added, "With the exquisite Lady Meghailin my sister, and the lovely Princess Serafé whose heart is given upon whom I may hone my skills, it could chance that I shall forget why I practice and remain instead a blissful slave to their untouchable beauty."

Feia's smile grew broad and seeing this Meg's heart warmed with gratitude for her outrageous brother-in-law. She curtsied, "My lord, I am entirely convinced that your charm requires no further rehearsal."

XXX

They rode through the rest of the evening and the night, stopping only of necessity to rest their mounts. By morning Gimli was exhausted, but the elves were able to take their rest as they traveled, and so they seemed as fresh as when they had begun, saving Legolas who appeared spent.

After breaking for the morning meal, Gimli hauled himself onto Arod's back with a fatigued sigh. "Are you ill, Laddie?" Gimli asked when Legolas failed to vault into place before him with his usual grace.

Legolas said, "I am weary."

"Hah, I have never heard you utter that word in reference to yourself in all of our acquaintance. When this is done, let us go and visit our friends in the Shire. Nobody knows how to rest and recuperate more capably than hobbits."

Legolas smiled sadly, not looking at his friend, "You only want to go to the Shire so that you can refresh your supply of Longbottom Leaf. I have noticed you are not smoking as much as usual! You must have run out."

"It's true, I wouldn't say no to a cask or two of Old Toby. The Gondorian pipeweed varieties are not the same, that's all," Gimli declared. "And if we're going to be relaxing, a good pipe is a fine way to take the edge off. Someday I'll persuade you to try it, and you will see."

"I think I can safely say that whatever happens, I do not see smoking in my future, my friend. You will have to peddle your bad habits elsewhere."

"Elves think they know everything!" Gimli complained good-naturedly. "It's a medicinal fact that smoking lengthens your life, not that you pointy-eared types care about that, of course."

"You can say as you like, since now you are immortal and there can be no proof of your claim," Legolas responded, but his heart was not in their bantering today and it showed.

Gimli enjoyed tweaking Legolas, especially if he thought it might help to lighten his burden for a time, but the elf did not seem up to it. Gimli sighed again. He had not seen Legolas look this terrible except on the night they had come so close to losing him. The night the ladies had healed him. "Laddie, could Lady Meghailin not aid you?" he asked seriously.

"No, my friend," Legolas said simply.

"What if…" Gimli was on dangerous ground and he knew it, but he had to ask, "What if she let her gift pass through Lady Feia. Could she not help you, then?"

Legolas stiffened noticeably, but he only said, "No. Not this time."

Gimli wisely let it drop, changing tactics, "You are pushing us hard. Do you have some knowledge that the plight of your people has worsened?"

Thirteen elves. Thirteen! "Yes, it has worsened."

"When will we get there?" Gimli asked. He had never become accustomed to judging distances from the back of a horse.

"Sometime tomorrow morning, I should think," Legolas said. Would it be soon enough? Legolas wanted nothing so much as to lie down and allow the end come. If his physical body ceased, perhaps he would not feel it when his soul was ripped out of him and unmade. Perhaps he would not. But he had to go on. If he could free his people – If he could just do that! – Then it would be worth the price of his soul.

And maybe their freedom would also be worth dying – no! worse than dying, with the woman who held his heart looking on. Why would she not go!?

"Gimli, do something for me," Legolas began.

"Anything you ask, Laddie," Gimli pledged without hesitation.

"If, when we get there, things go badly for me – keep her away," Legolas silently cursed his voice which betrayed him with a tremor. "Keep her away until it is over, and…and take care of her."

"What aren't you telling me, Lad?"

"Please! Just promise it, Gimli!"

"Alright, Laddie, I'll take care of the lass."

"And keep her away!"

"Aye, I heard you," Gimli said in a troubled voice. "I will keep your lady away."

Chapter 26:

Vessel with a Hole

Meghailin thumbed through the appendices of "The Lord of the Rings," trusting Linnêl to follow if Yáviëlosse changed direction or speed. Tolkien said very little about Thranduil and little also about the time that the Enemy had dwelt in Dol Guldur. And events already differed from the accounts written there by the great author, so something had changed along the way other than the arrival of two Alderaani ladies. Still there might be some clue within these pages that would help. It could not hurt to be sure.

Yáviëlosse whickered anxiously and Meg looked up in time to see Feia nod in her saddle. "Feia!" she called, snapping the woman back to wakefulness in time to keep her seat. It had been near thirty hours since they had slept and Feia was not skilled at elven techniques of refreshing herself in other ways. Meg kneed Linnêl closer to her friend and laid a hand on Feia's crown, working the fatigue banishing spell as they rode.

"Thank you! That is better," Feia declared. "I will not drop off my horse at an inopportune moment this time, will I?"

"Nay!" Meg laughed, "You are not so depleted as that! But I have been remiss! I should have worked the spell on you earlier; and not only you!"

"Gimli," Feia nodded, "and Elessar. The king is not quite an elf, whoever raised him. You are right! Ride up and see to them, sister. I will be well until your return."

Meg pressed Linnêl to run for her, and the mare quickly moved up the ranks to where the king and the dwarf rode with Legolas and Lord Elrond. "Your Majesty?" she said, holding up her hand toward the king's brow in offer. Elessar smiled and dipped his head so that she could reach him. He felt a faint tingling this time, instead of the cool shiver of healing, but when the lady removed her hand, it was as though he had slept deeply for a full night.

"Well, that was very effective! I thank you, my lady," the king said. "It is a useful bit of healing magic and I think I have grasped how it is done, is there aught else I should know?"

"Only that it is rest which your patients borrow from themselves," Meg advised. "Eventually the interest comes due, and then they must pay with many hours of sleep and a few hearty meals. That is all Sire, except what you already know – it cannot be repeated indefinitely." The king nodded in thanks and committed the technique to memory.

Meg then rode to Arod's side and Gimli, who had been watching and listening, nodded gratefully when she lifted her hand to his head. "Ahhh," the dwarf sighed in relief as the spell took effect.

But when Meg raised her eyes to meet Legolas's mute stare she gasped aloud, "My lord!" she cried. He looked haggard! An elf should not look thus, she thought, and automatically her hand went to his brow. But as she was began to work the spell he caught her wrist.

"It will do nothing for me this time, lady," Legolas said.

"It won't hurt either of us to try, my lord," she responded, and waited until he dropped his hand. Meg could feel the spell working, but also she felt the effects begin to drain away, as if Legolas were a vessel with a hole and his vigor was leaking out of him. He looked better, but she could see that he knew full well how very temporary it was.

"Thank you, my lady," was all that he said.

"My Lady Meghailin," Lord Elrond said, "Is that one of the texts of which I have heard, tucked there in your horse's blanket."

"It is, my lord," Meg responded, "Tolkien wrote a number of epilogues to the story which I hoped might offer a clue regarding our venture, but I have discovered that events diverge from what was recorded here from, best as I can ascertain, the wedding of the king and queen.

In fact, Lord Elrond, according to Tolkien you took ship for the west with the other ringbearers. Also it is recorded that Lord Celeborn did not, and yet it seems you have switched places. In regards to Dol Guldur, it is here reported that Lord Celeborn took possession of it and Lady Galadriel cleansed it after the War. After The Lady sailed from Middle Earth, it says that Lord Celeborn could no longer bear to remain in Lórien and he dwelt for a time at Rivendell, but then ruled a flourishing elven kingdom through much of the fourth age in Southern Mirkwood that became known as East Lórien. His demesne encompassed Dol Guldur.

Of Thranduil, very little is said. Only that he lead the elves in the Battle of Five Armies and repulsed an attack from Dol Guldur during the War of the Ring. It hints that he might have been guilty of a few excesses in regards to dwarves including the regrettable incident when Thorin and company were detained in Mirkwood. Lastly, he was given the charge of Gollum, but failed in that largely due to an over abundance of compassion.

I fear my research has been unhelpful."

"Perhaps not, my lady," Lord Elrond disagreed, "for you have given me something to ponder. May I look at the book?"

"Of course, my lord!" Meg handed the volume over.

"Do your epilogues convey any information regarding what becomes of the members of the Fellowship, my lady?" Gimli asked curiously.

"Things have changed too much for me to give you an accurate glimpse into your future, my lord," Meg responded. "The best I could offer you is what your futures might have looked like until they diverged at some point from what we know to be true in Tolkien's work. The man did not know he was channeling future events, so there is even the possibility that he may have made it all up so that the stories would have a sense of closure."

"Nevertheless, I admit to being curious," Elessar said. "Tell us what is written for our futures."

"Very well," Meg agreed. "Naturally we know that Queen Arwen shall give you a child, Sire. Tolkien says that she bears you one son, Eldarion, and many daughters."

Elessar's grin was full of wonder, and was, perhaps, a trifle smug.

Meghailin continued with the information provided about the hobbit members of the Fellowship and then she said, "Gimli and Legolas are the most widely traveled of the Fellowship, spending a good deal of time roaming about together, but they are also reported to have occasion for separate careers. Gimli is named Lord of the Glittering Caves and leads a group of dwarves in the careful nurturance of the beauty of the caves beneath the Hornburg, whilst Legolas leads a party of elves to assist in the reclamation of Ithilien."

"Lord of the Glittering Caves!" Gimli repeated in awe.

"Yes, my lord," Meg smiled. "It is your tale, master dwarf, which has always most moved me! You, a mortal who teaches an elf about bravery and about beauty, and rises above his prejudices to heal a long enmity with his love. This is Tolkien's last word on the Fellowship," she recited, "Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf." 1

"Well," Gimli said in a hushed voice, "Well!"

Legolas smiled gently. Gimli could not see his face sitting, as he was, behind the elf, but aloud the woodland prince said, "I cannot think of a more fitting reward for my friend than that."

"Well!" Gimli said again, and hastily rubbed at his eyes.

"You said that I was to have already sailed, but Lord Celeborn did not; and that he ruled the Southern Mirkwood?" Lord Elrond asked into the silence that followed.

"Yes, my lord," Meg answered.

"And Lady Galadriel was to have cleansed Dol Guldur?"

"That is correct."

"But instead Thranduil went to reclaim it. What did Thranduil not do that Lady Galadriel would?"

"My father is flawed," Legolas said very softly, "He wanted Dol Guldur to purge it of darkness, but also for the power possession of it offered. The Lady would have sought only to remove all evil from the place."

"So what evil did King Thranduil find which he did not, or could not purge?" Elessar asked.

"If we find the answer to that, we may discover the key to the spell which enthralls our people," Lord Elrond said. "You have helped with your research, my lady. Do not hesitate to share anything that may come to you as you ponder the question further."

"I shall not hesitate, my lord," Meg replied, bowing from her seat upon Linnêl's back. "With permission, my lords, I will withdraw to my former place in the entourage."

Legolas looked at her sharply with his heart in his eyes, then swallowed hard and turned away. The dark circles had begun to return; and his cheeks, which had gained color for a time after her spell, were already tinged with grey.

"Was there aught you wished to say, my lord?" Meg asked.

"Nay, my lady," the elf responded, "Wishing aside, there is naught I could say that would change anything."

XXX

That night, Legolas tripled the number of scouts sent out in every direction from the elven army. He did not want to lose the element of surprise, for the elves of Mirkwood, in their ensorcelled state, would make ready hostages. If the elven force came at the orc swiftly and elves were dispatched to protect his people, then perhaps no more would die.

He knew that was perhaps a fool's hope. They were riding into battle, some elves could die – but not if Legolas could stop it.

He had ridden with his captains again, after their brief evening rest, and a strategy had been agreed upon. They would camp for several hours after sunrise and plan to arrive at Dol Guldur at dusk. It would give the orc something of an advantage to fight by night, but Legolas remembered how spread out the woodland elves had been during daylight. With luck, at night they would remain closer together and therefore easier to protect.

The arrival of the war party would not be a complete surprise to the orc. They were almost certainly expected. But Legolas prayed that the creatures did not know when the attack would come, or how many were gathered against them. He refused to think of the orc as his father's army. They went to fight orc and save elves, not to do battle against his father and king.

That fight would be for Legolas alone. The more he considered it, the more he realized that he would have to go on by himself. He could not arrive at the front of an army and expect to ride directly to confront his father. And so, claiming that the spell had depleted him too greatly, which was true, Legolas attempted to cede leadership to Lord Elrond; but the patriarch of the elves refused, wishing to remain in reserve so that he could use his power to aid the elves. Command then fell to Glorfindel with Haldir as his second.

Elessar and Haldir knew full well what Legolas intended, though the elf did not care, so long as his friends did not interfere. Gimli also suspected something. Legolas could not lie to the dwarf outright and his faithful friend was meeting his omissions with considering silence.

He only needed time, Legolas thought. Time enough to confront his father and find a way to free his people, but time was slipping away along with his strength and his faith. He could feel them dwindling, all three, with every step that brought him closer to the Hill of Black Magic.

XXX

As had become his habit, every few hours Haldir dropped back to ride with his lady and her sister. And so he reported to them that Legolas had passed leadership to Glorfindel.

It was a matter of a moment for Feia to work out why. "He will be going in alone – ahead of the army! My lord, is he strong enough?"

"He is determined enough, my lady. That counts for a great deal," Haldir responded, and then he narrowed his eyes at her. "Do not attempt anything foolish, your highness! You could only hinder him and he would not thank you for it!"

"I am banished, my lord! His thanks are not a prize I am likely to attain. It is his life which is my concern!"

Haldir frowned, "His life is his to spend as he will, my lady."

"And is he likely to spend it, then?" Feia countered shrewdly. "Is he convinced the cost of freedom for his people is his life?"

"You do not need me to share my speculations in regards to what Prince Legolas is thinking, my lady. You are as capable as I am of guessing," Haldir declared. Preparing to go, the elf moved Hithui close to Linnêl in order to steal a moment with his wife.

Haldir took Meg's hand and kissed it, then held it to his heart. Meg squeezed his hand and said, "Cuioris anim." Stay alive for me.

Haldir smiled reassuringly, "Cuioris anim!" Stay alive for me! With that he rode forward again.

"Was it just me, or did your husband hie away with noticeable haste?" Feia queried.

Meg considered for a moment, and then her eyes went to slits, "I feel the conversation was becoming uncomfortable for him. He is hiding something from us."

"What could he know that you at least could not hear?" Feia wondered.

"Anything that you are not to learn," Meg responded. "Haldir would not ask me to keep a thing from you; rather he would keep it from us both. Or it is something he has been asked to hold secret from everyone. In either case I long to learn it, for I doubt not who did the asking. Your husband holds too much within him. I swear he looked, when I saw him, as though at any moment he might fly apart."

"He is stubborn! At his age, one would think he might have learnt the lesson that a shared burden is lighter."

"Perhaps it is not so surprising; the elves of Middle Earth have turned mostly within. They do not easily look outwards for aid," Meg reasoned.

"I believe I have had ample opportunity to detect that trait," Feia agreed. "Now, what am I to do about it? That is the question I must ask myself."

"What are we to do about it, sister," Meg corrected pointedly. "For you at least are capable of sharing your burdens, are you not?"

"Very well," Feia agreed, accepting her chastisement with good grace. "When the company stops in the morning, you and I must slip away and steal into Dol Guldur. I intend to do whatever I may to keep Legolas from being forced to take his father's life. There must be some other way to lift the spell!"

"If there is a way, we shall find it!" Meg promised.

1. Appendix B, The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

Chapter 27:

Oaths of Fellowship

Just as dawn's light became discernible to his eyes, Gimli noted a strange thing. Legolas, though fully armed, had discarded the armor he had been given to wear at Rivendell. He stood near the fringes of the camp with the hood of his Lórien cloak pulled up and as far forward as it would go. Elessar stood with him, and his armor also had been dispensed with.

The dwarf, knowing the workings of his friends' minds well, gasped in comprehension. Hastily checking to be sure that his weapons were all in place, he ran to intercept them.

"And where," Gimli huffed, skidding to a halt beside them, "do the two of you think you may be going!?"

"It appears I guessed rightly regarding our elven friend's intent, Gimli, and I have just caught him in the act of sneaking off to Dol Guldur alone," Elessar reported.

Legolas grimaced; minutes were speeding by. "I do not have time to argue anymore, Elessar. I must…" His voice trailed off as the earth shuddered with the sounding of a gong. The king steadied the elf as his knees buckled and he nearly fell. Legolas's eyes were round and dazed; he blinked several times, mastering himself. "A, Elbereth! I have no time!" he whispered.

"What is happening to you, Laddie? By the Lady, you are shaking!" Gimli had been concerned by the uncharacteristic and un-elflike exhaustion that seemed to have taken hold of his friend, but now! The dwarf was horrified at the implications of what he was seeing. "Is it another spell?" he asked, already suspecting the truth.

"It is the same spell, Gimli," Elessar said with quiet sadness.

"The same…but I thought…"

"I must go," Legolas interjected, his voice registering his anxiety, "Now! I must go right now. If I cannot dissuade you, then come with me Elessar, but we leave at once."

"Not without me you will not!" Gimli said firmly, planting the haft of his axe at his side.

"No!" Legolas answered, "Nay, Gimli, I need you to keep your promise. Please!"

Gimli made a sound like a growl, acknowledging that he was effectively blocked. "You had better come back! Both of you!" but the dwarf was not a fool, and he had reasoned it out. Moisture stood in his eyes.

Legolas clasped Gimli's shoulder and gazed into his friend's face before speaking. "If ever…" he began, but faltered at sight of the naked grief that the dwarf could not disguise and was forced to begin again, "If ever I had taken ship to the west, I would have been proud to have you with me, my faithful friend." And with that, the elf was running through the mist of morning with the king, who had transformed once again into a ranger, loping at his side.

Gimli felt a dreadful weight of sorrow and loneliness settle in his heart while tears leaked into his beard unhindered. How could this be? How could the Fellowship end this way? The dwarf stood alone while watching the place where his friends had vanished. So it was that he happened to spy a movement, which at first he took to be a pair of elven scouts, hoods hiding their faces, slipping from the camp. But if that were so, they were particularly short scouts, Gimli thought, squinting into the mist. And then one of them turned to look over a shoulder back toward the camp and from out of the loose hood a pair of beaded braids swung.

"Oh, no, my bonnie lasses," Gimli muttered. "I do not think so."

It took a few minutes to intercept them. Feia had her short sword bared in her grip while Meghailin held her bow down at her side with an arrow knocked. They were moving with care, but speedily.

When Gimli came upon them he was greeted by the points of their weapons, "Ooo!" he said and put his hands forward, palms out.

"Lord Gimli!" Feia exclaimed, lowering her sword, "However did Legolas manage to sneak off without you? He is gone, is he not?"

"Feia…" Meg said in a subdued voice, for she had seen the drying tracks of tears on Gimli's weathered cheeks. Feia looked at Meg and back at Gimli. Then she pressed a hand to her stomach, "Oh, Light, that horrible sound – it was…! He is not…?"

"Nay, Lassie," Gimli said, "He's gone off with Aragorn. But you are not wrong…about the gong. I am sorry, dear lass. Let me take you back to camp, now."

"I am not returning to the camp, Gimli," Feia said. "I intended to find a way to end the spell which holds the woodland elves, thus sparing Legolas the grief of patricide. Now I have two spells to unravel. Your aid would be welcome, but Meg and I are going on regardless." She stepped away as though to continue her mission, but Gimli moved in front of her.

"I made a promise!" Gimli had his fists braced on his hips and his long handled axe held crossways before him like the ceremonial guards who had once stood before King Bail's throne room on Alderaan. "He does not want you to witness his end, and on my word you will not!" Gimli finished.

Feia made a small wordless sound of sorrow in her throat and Meg stepped forward slipping her hand into her sister's. Gimli watched with admiration as Lady Feia drew strength from her friend. She spoke evenly when she said, "I have done what I can to respect my husband's wishes, Lord Gimli, if in my own way. He does not want me at his side where I belong; and so I will stay away – but I will do so at Dol Guldur where, with faith and luck I may yet be of some help to him!

That was only a single gong, my lord. There were thirteen to start it; let us proceed on the premise that we have twelve more before hope is gone. Will you help me, good Gimli, or hinder me? I have come to care for you, but I will fight you if you attempt to stand between Dol Guldur and me. Choose!"

The dwarf laughed ruefully, "Lass, if ever I doubted it, you have proven yourself a worthy match for the Lad. Then his expression turned grim. "All I desire is to find a way to wake us all from this hideous nightmare, perhaps together we may find a way. I am with you, so long as you understand; if we fail, I will not let you near him."

"Agreed," Feia said, "Now, let us run!"

XXX

Legolas and Elessar covered ground swiftly. They had been running for about two hours when they entered the Southern Mirkwood. It was a treacherous place at the best of times, and now there was the danger of orc roaming about, so both of them were vigilant.

Or at least Legolas was attempting to remain vigilant. The past hours had been a challenge unlike any he had experienced before. He would be running with his usual elven grace and economy of movement when, unexpectedly, his muscles would not respond as they should and he would stumble. Or he would be scanning their surroundings with his keen vision when suddenly everything would go dim and blurred. When they paused to check the ground for signs, Legolas's breath hitched from exertion. Sweat covered him, but he felt chilled.

They were three hours into their journey to Dol Guldur and nearly there when the next gong sounded. Legolas clutched a tree branch to steady himself, for the ground seemed to list like the deck of a ship at sea. Then there was another gong, followed immediately by another - doubling and then trebling both the vertigo and the pain. Swift, inky blackness stole away his consciousness and Legolas knew no more.

When he awoke, Legolas was laid out on the ground with Elessar leaning over him anxiously. The king pressed a dampened cloth to his friend's brow. Where are we? the elf wondered. Why is it so cold?

"Legolas?" Elessar's voice was taut.

"Nás ringwain." It is very cold. The sound of his own voice disturbed Legolas, for it quavered with weakness.

"You are ill, my friend," Elessar's concern was palpable. "You have a fever in your blood. That is why you feel cold."

Legolas focused on the trees around them. Mirkwood trees. Southern Mirkwood. Dol Guldur! "A, Elbereth, how long?"

"You have been out for nearly half an hour."

"Help me to rise!" When Elessar just stared at him, Legolas repeated, "Help me, Elessar!"

"Legolas, there have been six repetitions of the gong." Elessar said as he eased his friend to a sitting position. "I think you passed into unconsciousness around the third or the fourth."

"There have been seven, then," Legolas felt as though the earth were still heaving.

"Along with the first one earlier, aye," Elessar confirmed, as he pressed a water skin into Legolas's hands.

The elf drank deeply. It helped, but he felt…wrong. "I have to go on, Elessar," Legolas whispered, "I have no alternative save to lie here and wait for the end. That is no choice."

"Come Elessar, help me get him up," said a voice from the trees, surprising both the ranger-king and the elf. But it was Lord Elrond, who it was said, could conceal himself in a breath of air if he chose.

"My Lord Elrond, he is seriously ill!" the king protested.

"We all have appointments to keep. Legolas must continue."

"You have had a Foreseeing, my lord?" Legolas asked.

Leaning down to brace Legolas at shoulder and elbow, the high elf lord responded, "I no longer fully trust that ability, for I cannot fathom how what I have Seen may be. But the pieces are all in motion and we have no choice but to make our move."

"Cryptic," Elessar complained as he and the elven lord assisted Legolas to rise.

Lord Elrond merely raised a fine arched brow at his son-in-law, but Legolas said softly, "A trait of the very wise, my friend." With visible effort, Legolas managed to keep his feet.

"Ha!" Elessar disagreed, staying close. He was prepared to support his friend if need be, but attempting to mask his intent from the elf, "It is an elven trait! Ask my wife what she might like to eat for breakfast and before you know it she has you pondering the intricacies of frost patterns on the window glass, and you are never really sure in the end how that relates to food."

"It is a pleasant thing to have someone with whom to share the mysteries of nature, Elessar. Perhaps she was asking you to slow down and appreciate it before allowing your stomach to rule you," Legolas guessed as they began to move as swiftly as possible toward Dol Guldur.

"Then I suppose you are right at that, Legolas, it is a trait of the very wise."

"And also of elves," Legolas allowed, baring his teeth in a tight grin.

XXX

After the gong sounded just after dawn, Haldir had been visibly troubled. He soon learned that Legolas had gone, and that, not surprisingly, neither Elessar nor Gimli were to be found in the camp. Sometime later it was discovered that Lord Elrond had also disappeared.

Whilst Haldir met with the other leaders of their war party there had been six more repetitions of the gong. Seven of thirteen. It had begun with thirteen; it made sense, as such things went, that it would end with thirteen. Legolas was fast running out of time.

Glorfindel sensed the immediacy of Haldir's grief and began questioning him carefully. Before long, the high elf lord had guessed for himself what Haldir was not saying and why. Soon it was decided that despite the greater risk to the woodland elves, the elven force must move out sooner rather than late. Glorfindel seemed to believe that the outcome of their quest would be determined at the same time as the ending of the evil spell.

After Haldir had passed the word to his Lórien elves that they should make ready to depart at once, he sought his lady wife and her sister; but he did not find them. A rapid search of the encampment yielded no sign, and so he enlisted Rúmil to assist him. It was his brother who found Linnêl and Yáviëlosse tied to the picket line with the pack animals. Upon Linnêl's blanket had been pinned a letter with Haldir's name in a fine hand writ on the outside.

Haldir's stomach pitched queasily as his brother handed him the parchment. Rapidly he unfolded the letter and scanned the inside. Then, with a cry, Haldir vaulted onto Hithui's back before Rúmil could venture to ask what news the note contained. Placing a staying hand upon his brother's knee, he said, "Brother, you have duties!"

He had too many duties! Hithui danced nervously as Haldir struggled to find a way to meet them all. "They have gone off to Dol Guldur! Alone! There are two thousand orc waiting out there!"

"From what you have told me of your lady and her sister, Haldir, they have been doing this sort of thing regularly for some time," Rúmil said reasonably. "They are as aware of the dangers as we are. Surely they would not have gone were they not confident that they could get through."

When Haldir just stared at his brother mutely, the other elf sighed, "Very well, we shall ask the sentries if the ladies were seen, so that we will know when they departed. Perhaps they went together with Prince Legolas, King Elessar, and Lord Gimli."

"Unlikely," Haldir shook his head, "Legolas would never permit it. They went because of him, though, that much is certain. I pray that Lady Feia is thinking with other than her heart in this, and that my wife is not following only with hers!"

"Ah! So that is where the fair lady's heart dwells. Is Prince Legolas aware if her regard?"

"They are wed," Haldir answered succinctly. When Rúmil's brows shot up Haldir shook his head adding, "It is complicated."

"Such is the way with matters of the heart, brother. Let us discover when your lady left the camp, and then we shall decide where your duty lies."

Chapter 28:

The Hill of Black Magic

When the hateful gonging reverberated over and over until there had been seven, Meg watched her sister very carefully. Feia was alert and focused, and she made no comment regarding the spell, but she flinched with each booming echo and her face was a study of determination at war with grief. Gimli hoarsely whispered the count interspersed with words in the language of dwarves that might have been either prayers or curses. In the cadences of dwarven speech, it was difficult to tell.

They had been moving at a steady jog over the rolling plains, but now they were under the trees of the Southern Mirkwood and the going was slower. Shivering as her elven senses detected the presence of a generalized brooding malice that permeated the surrounding trees, Meg said, "Ware, friends, this forest is disinclined toward guests."

"Marvelous," Gimli muttered, "just once it would be nice to travel through a pleasant and accommodating wood."

"Dol Guldur's hold over this part of Mirkwood is stronger than even we thought," a voice said. It belonged to an elf who stepped into Feia's path so that she was forced to come to an abrupt halt. He was tall, even for an elf, and he had an arrow knocked and his bow half raised. "You will find little pleasantness and no accommodation ahead master dwarf."

The newcomer continued, "I confess I am confounded by the sight of a dwarf, an elven lady, and a woman traveling through the wood, when all I thought to find were orc."

Meg saw the nearly frantic impatience in her sister's expression, quickly disguised by what Meg tended to think of as the Mask of The First. It was an expression that was carefully neutral, while somehow radiating competence, assurance and authority. Then Feia spoke with a voice that matched the face, "We are clearly not orc, master elf and neither are you; so let us all lower our guard. We are not enemies. I am Serafé Organa Naberrie," then gesturing to her sister she said, "and this is Meghailin, wife to Haldir of Lórien. Our dwarven companion is Gimli son of Gloin of the Misty Mountains.

I had not expected to find a Mirkwood elf yet unafflicted by the mysterious spell that ravages your people. Have matters improved for your brethren?"

"Nay Lady Serafé, matters are grim and getting worse by the day," the elf said. He had lowered his bow, though he left the arrow knocked. "I am Suluin of Eryn Lasgalen. I am one of only nine who remain unaffected by the illness. Eight if you do not count the Queen who is badly afflicted by grief.

The appearance of Gimli son of Gloin, who is known to be Prince Legolas's friend, here in the Southern Mirkwood with obvious knowledge of our plight gives me hope that the prince yet lives and that help is forthcoming. That this particular dwarf appears without the prince causes me to fear that he does not and it is not. When last I saw Legolas, I had reason to doubt that I would see him again."

"Legolas has lead a force of elves, now under command of Lord Glorfindel, who await the fall of night to come to the aid of your people," Gimli said. "These ladies and I are attempting to discover the source of the spell which causes this…illness, and that which threatens your prince, for the lad's strength is failing."

"It is more than I hoped, and much as I feared," Suluin responded, laying a hand over his heart. "Those of us who remain hale amongst my people struggle to keep the others well and safe, and we are now so few that we do not venture far from them any longer; but this morning I felt compelled to slip away and come to this place. Perhaps I am meant to guide you – and yet I am reluctant to lead these ladies any closer to the peril that waits at Dol Guldur."

Meg stepped forward, setting a hand lightly on the elf's arm, "My lord, I am a healer," she said. "If I can find a way to use my skills to aid your people, I will; but I cannot help from afar. Lady Serafé is motivated by love to add her skills to the aid of the prince's quest and searches for a way for him to both succeed and survive! Your reticence to endanger us will not stop us from seeking Dol Guldur with or without your guidance."

"Then follow my ladies, my lord, but with care for these woods hold many dangers and Dol Guldur, toward which we journey, is a lair of great evil."

XXX

Galion hovered anxiously beside his queen. Nenuiel had not spoken and had hardly stirred in the days since the spell was cast against her son. But now, as one by one the enormous candles set in the central tower of the keep burned low and guttered out, the spell was reaching its end; and Nenuiel moaned fitfully with every repetition of the gong.

There had been nine. Only four were left before hope was gone for the prince and, Galion feared, for the prince's mother. The few others who remained to look after their ensorcelled people looked to Galion for leadership, but he had little to give them in the way of encouragement.

As the king's former aid waited at his queen's side, Suluin arrived and addressed him, "My Lord Galion, I chanced upon these folk who bring news for the Queen and an offer of assistance."

When the elven lord looked up, Meg was moved by the sorrow that was a living thing behind his eyes. "I am a healer, my lord! May I?" she said with a gesture toward the queen.

"By all means, my lady, but the queen mourns her son and healing will be of little use to her," Galion said.

Feia stood straighter at Gimli's side, prepared to protest, but Gimli was quicker, "Legolas is not dead, my lord. Your queen mourns him prematurely!"

Galion sighed, "The king has set an evil spell to unmake the prince's soul, master dwarf. Even now Legolas must suffer abominably. There is cause enough to grieve for him, and the time for mourning is almost nigh. Why do you come here – a dwarf, an elven healer, and a woman? What aid could you possibly offer?"

Feia answered, "My lord, I am Serafé Organa Naberrie. My sister, Meghailin, as she has said, is a healer; and this is Gimli son of Gloin, your prince's friend and companion. The elves of Rivendell and Lórien, lead by Lord Glorfindel, have gathered to come to your aid. We three are here to seek a way to end the evil magic that troubles you and threatens Legolas's life. Is there aught you can tell us which might aid us in this quest?"

"Come closer, woman!" It was the queen. Her voice was commanding and she had pushed herself up from the pallet upon which she lay so that she could look at Feia with a piercing blue gaze.

Galion turned in wonder to see Nenuiel awake and alert. "My Queen!" he exclaimed with relief, and then to Meg he said, "I apologize for my doubt, my lady! You are a healer of surpassing skill."

"My Lord I have yet to attempt a healing upon your queen. She is made well by her own strength, I deem." Meg admitted, sitting back on her heels. But Meg had been watching, and the queen's eyes had snapped open at the sound of Feia's voice.

Feia moved without hesitation to obey Nenuiel's command, and she knelt opposite Meg at the queen's side. Legolas's mother reached out and clasped Feia's hand firmly. It did not appear to Meg that the gesture was meant as comforting, though neither could it be called threatening.

They remained frozen that way while the queen of the Mirkwood elves studied the woman intently, and then suddenly Feia gasped aloud. Meg watched her sister in puzzlement as Feia's cheeks first went pale, and then bloomed with red. A swift smile began to spread across her sister's face but as quickly slipped away. Then Feia dissolved into helpless tears, throwing her arms around her husband's mother. The elven queen froze, her expression registering consternation, then all at once she returned Feia's embrace, stroking the woman's hair almost tenderly.

In all of their lives, Meg had never seen Feia as emotional as she had been in these past days. There was more than enough cause, and yet it still surprised her. But as much as Meg wanted to blame Legolas and his coarse handling of her sister, she could not help but feel compassion for the suffering elf. No, it was not Legolas's fault. Feia had opened herself fully to love for the first time since Alderaan was destroyed and that could not be wrong, whatever the consequences. Even if the consequences were tears like this - tears that made Meghailin's heart ache in sympathy, for her sister sounded as though she were being emptied of hope.

Gimli, Galion and Suluin were all looking on with varying expressions of startlement. Then Nenuiel set Feia away from her and gave her a slight shake. Feia immediately did what was necessary to master her emotions and by the time the queen had turned to address the others, Meg's sister had the Mask of the First firmly in place.

"Suluin," Nenuiel said in an authoritative tone, "Gather our afflicted brothers and sisters and keep them close. Be alert for elven scouts. Lord Glorfindel will wish to know where we are before he attacks. Keep your weapons hidden near to hand! This is the time when we may be called upon to protect our defenseless people from the orc at any cost. We must not allow them to become hostages!"

The Queen's sharp eyes fixed on her son's dwarven companion, then, and she said, "As for you, Lord Gimli, the spell which my husband cast against Legolas continues in the central tower of the keep. As he incanted the spell, Thranduil lit thirteen candles. When all of the candles have burnt out, my son will be no more." Gimli moved as though to go at once to the keep, but Nenuiel held up her hand to forestall him, "the king has set wards upon the perimeter of the tower and the door glows with a green spectrous light. Do not touch it, nor attempt to break it down whilst the ward remains."

"But how shall I remove this ward, my lady?" Gimli asked, with a grimace of frustration.

"I believe that the power to create the ward came from a golden torque which my husband has habitually worn since he first came to Dol Guldur," Nenuiel explained. "I have replayed the scene over and over in my mind and I am convinced; the torque is an instrument of power and of evil. Thranduil does not remove the ornament night or day, but it may be that I can find a way to see it off of him. If I can destroy it, I do not doubt that it will end the spell under which my people suffer, and it should also open the sealed door to the central tower. That shall be my task."

The Queen stood, smoothing her skirts with a graceful hand as though she had not spent the last days in a state of semi-consciousness, but was only just rising from an afternoon nap. "You must go to the tower and be prepared for when the defenses come down, master dwarf. Lady Meghailin may attempt to revive my people with her skills, if she so chooses. The Lady Serafé will remain here with our few hale elves to guard her."

Meg looked to her sister in anticipation of the protest she was sure would come. Gimli was also peering at Feia expectantly and had his breath held. The woman drew herself up; giving every appearance that she would not disappoint them. Neither of her companions knew what to make of it when instead, Feia only nodded reluctantly and then settled in to wait.

"You must be the one to help him good Gimli, for I may not." Feia said, and her voice held all the anxiety her cool façade disguised.

Gimli bowed to his friend's lady, promising, "If I can find a way to aid him, I will though it cost me my life!" Then the dwarf was away.

The queen was also gone, leaving Galion with Feia and Meg. But immediately, the elven lord bowed himself out of their presence in order to assist with the gathering of his people. When he had gone Meg looked at Feia with wide eyes. "Sister, you confound me!" she exclaimed. "What possible reason could you have for your capitulation with the queen's request?"

Feia smiled slightly at her friend, "I heard no request. Was that not a command?"

"Queen Nenuiel may not command you," Meg disagreed. "You have sworn your oath to the King of Gondor."

"It is not my oath to King Elessar, but my connection to her son which concerns the queen of the Mirkwood elves."

"But however could she know about that?" Meg queried, mystified.

Feia shivered as she recalled her first encounter with her mother-in-law. The intensity of the elven queen's scrutiny had been unsettling. And then Nenuiel's voice had demanded inside her mind; "Are you aware that even now you carry my son's babes within you?" Feia had been completely unprepared for it. Legolas's children! There would be two. She was Alderaani; there were always two. And they were growing inside her right now, gaining strength and life even as their father's slipped away. It was the bitterest possible joy.

Feia did not even realize she was crying again until she had been drawn into her sister's arms. "Feia, you are frightening me!" Meg said into her sister's mind.

"Extend your healing sense, Meggie, and you will understand." Feia took Meg's wrist and laid the healer's hand upon her abdomen. Meg blinked at her wonderingly, and then reached out with her healing awareness.

When the tenth gong shook the earth, Meg and Feia were already weeping in one another's embrace.

XXX

With Elessar and Lord Elrond, Legolas crept toward Dol Guldur one painful step at a time. The elf had managed to shake off much of the effects of the eighth gong after a struggle of several minutes. The ninth had taken much longer, and Legolas was unable to continue at all until Elessar slung his friend's arm over his shoulders and put a supporting arm around the elf's waist.

Lord Elrond left them soon after that, slipping into the trees and away; but not before giving his parting instructions, "You must get him there, Elessar, and in time. Do not fail!" And then he was gone.

Elessar stared at the place where the elven patriarch had been and then he took a breath on a sigh. When he glanced at Legolas, the elf's eyes were hollow with exhaustion and his jaw was clenched against pain; but he shifted his weight off of his friend and took a determined step forward. In a stumbling walk they covered the last distance to their destination.

They were amongst the trees surrounding the bare hill atop which stood the monstrous structure where the Enemy had once dwelt, when the tenth gong dropped the elven prince as though his legs had been cut from under him. Elessar attempted every conventional method he knew, but he could not revive the stricken elf, who thrashed and muttered but would not wake.

Legolas recalled that there was something that he must do; something for which he alone was responsible, but he could no longer recall what it was. Elessar was calling to him and he desperately tried to respond to his friend, but the elf's voice would not obey him. Then the dreams came and seized his mind, trapping him in a labyrinth from which he could find no escape.

Legolas's fever was far too high and the king worried. "Naurim! naurim…" the elf murmured restlessly, and Elessar said gently, "I know you burn, my friend."

Seeking the nearest covering brush, Elessar dragged Legolas beneath it and then disguised the tracks that they had left. It was the best that he could do. Lord Elrond had said that he must not fail. And so he had no choice but to enter Legolas's mind and attempt to aid him, though to do so would leave them both vulnerable.

Settling to the ground beside Legolas, Elessar placed a cool hand on the prince's brow. Almost the king could wish for the spell to be complete so that his friend would finally find peace! But there would be no rest or peace for Legolas, only a hideous and painful ending.

Ruthlessly, Elessar thrust the thought aside and centered his thoughts, breathing deeply. Legolas had permitted his human friend to touch his mind before, and Elessar had found it to be a serene and beautifully ordered place. But what had once been smooth protective shields were in ruins, and the king was entirely unprepared for the churning chaos he encountered within. His very presence seemed to cause pain, for Legolas tensed at the intrusion, groaning.

"Legolas?" the king sent, trying to find a way through the confusion. All at once he found himself standing high atop a cliff over-looking the sea with Legolas at his side. The elf was silent, his arms crossed over his chest. The scent of brine filled Elessar's nostrils and he could hear the call of gulls and the crashing of waves far below. He watched his friend, but the elven prince stared out over the water. Finally Legolas said, "Cairn nin ná nórren." My ship is burning.

Elessar looked out to sea and there he saw an elven craft sailing away west. At first it seemed an illusion created by the sinking sun that the ship was in flames, but then he saw the smudge of smoke rising in a column from the floundering vessel.

When the king looked back at Legolas, the elf lay on the ground and they were somewhere else. The elven prince's wrists and ankles were bound to stakes driven into the earth. He was naked to the waist and covered with the evidence of cruel torture. Darkness had fallen, but Legolas's torment was lit by the flames of a great bonfire. A tree had been ripped up by its roots and packed all around with dry brush set aflame. As Elessar watched in horror, the scene altered so that now his friend was secured to the tree and he was burning. Weakly, the elf raised his head, "Nás Lôren?" Is it a dream? And then Legolas screamed.

The sound of Legolas's agony reverberated through Elessar's mind, nearly driving him from the link; but he held on. When his inner vision cleared, the king was in a strange round room. The bodies of several elves, their throats cut, littered the floor. More elves stood impassively watching as Legolas wrestled desperately with an elf Elessar recognized. It was Fimloth the Metal Smith, a craftsman of Mirkwood.

The two elves battled with intensity. Legolas held a stone blade already slick with blood, and blood covered him, but soon Elessar realized that Fimloth was struggling to plunge the dagger into his own throat, while Legolas fought to keep the weapon away from the elven smith. Finally the prince was pulled off balance and he cried out in grief as his own hands thrust the knife home, killing the other elf. Legolas sobbed helplessly, lifting himself off of his fallen kin, only to have Eithelisse, an elf whom Elessar remembered as a skilled performer of epic poetry, step in and seize his prince's hands.

In no time, this new struggle was over and the dagger was buried in the elven bard's throat. Legolas's face was twisted with horror. He pulled the blade free with another cry and fell, sliding on blood. There was blood everywhere.

Then a beautiful elf maiden came and sat beside him, heedless of the gore. She brushed the elven prince's cheek with long graceful fingers.

"Nimírië," Legolas said, tears sliding down his face. "I did not mean to kill them."

Slowly the lovely elven lady lifted Legolas's hand, which still clutched the dagger, and it seemed that she meant to gently take it from him. But instead, with terrible deliberateness she guided his hand, slitting her own throat.

Legolas pressed his fingers to the fatal wound but the maiden's life pumped between them. "Elessar, aid me!" the elf said urgently, acknowledging his friend's presence there with him for the first time.

"She is dead, my friend," Elessar responded. "You cannot save her! But neither did you kill her. You did not kill any of them."

They stood in the wedding grove at Rivendell. Legolas waited beneath the swaying garlands where he had witnessed Haldir and Meg's vows, while Elessar watched from the edge of the clearing. It was twilight and it seemed that they were alone, but then through the trees Feia came walking. She wore her exotic white gown with the moonstones, one swaying over her navel on its chain. Unlike the day of the wedding, however, her hair hung loose saving her queues connate and her feet were unshod. She was smiling and she continued across the leaf littered floor of the clearing until she stood facing Legolas.

"Nalyë ore nin, Feia," the elf said. You are my heart.

"Im ná leië oialë, Legolas," Feia responded. I am yours forever.

Legolas kissed her then, enfolding her in his arms. But suddenly Feia sagged against her concinnate. At first, in confusion, Legolas gripped his wife's arms and tried to help her to stand, but finally he was forced to lower her to the ground. Protruding from the lady's chest was the stone dagger. Blood made a ghastly contrast to Feia's white gown and her eyes were wide open and staring.

Elessar winced as Legolas keened in grief so profound that it nearly rent the elf's failing mind asunder and the king's with it. Elessar was plunged into chaos once more.

There was no way to get his bearings in the maelstrom of Legolas's fevered dreams, and Elessar began to fear he was as lost as his tormented friend. He called with his mind, over and over, "Legolas…Legolas!" But visions and sensations flashed past him too quickly to grasp. Then, as if from afar, he heard the maddened ranting of Thranduil.

He stood in the shadows at the edge of another clearing. It was night, and orc were all around, but they did not heed him. Legolas hung from his bound hands as the prince's father beat him viciously.

Elessar's friend was limp against the tree to which he had been tied, and was hardly responding to the cruel cuts of the leather thong that the elven king flailed without mercy. Equally pitiless were the words that flowed like venom from Thranduil's mouth, "Nalyë ben-adar!" You are fatherless! "Nainú uindole!" I lament that you were ever born!

Legolas whispered a denial from Elessar's side "Naiú elyë, Ada. Naiú elyë!" It is not you, Father. It is not you!

They stood together and watched as the beating and the ranting went on and on. The elf observed his memory without further outward sign. Then Queen Nenuiel came walking through the firelit clearing to the trees, and stood before her son. "You alone can end this, Legolas. You alone…" And she handed him a knife set with three large gems.

Legolas sank to his knees as if the weapon were a burden of incalculable weight. They were high on the cliff again, overlooking the sea, and the sun's disc had sunk half beneath the horizon. Of the elven ship there was no sign.

The elf's shoulders shook with silent sobs. He held the evil knife across his open palms as if unsure what to do with it. And then he moaned, "Uva hen amarth úváni onin?" Will this fate not pass from me?

With a harsh sob, Legolas turned the knife's point to lie against his own heart. Elessar gasped and knelt at his friend's side, urging, "Na veronwë, mellon nin!" Be steadfast, my friend!

"Estel ná firith," Hope is faded, Legolas whispered. "Ûrnya ná peleth!" My spirit is broken!

"Estel nanen cuioren! Mí maië Eru ná ûr leië ortane." Elessar said. Hope is in living! In the hand of God is your spirit lifted up.

Legolas allowed the jeweled knife to tumble from his fingers, and he buried his face in his hands. "Im daedelos e Alya úhiruva nin," he said. I fear the Holy One will not find me. But when Elessar sought to beseech him again, Legolas forestalled him saying, "Útar nainië nanin, Elessar! Maruvan." Do not despair of me, Elessar! I will abide.

Tentatively, Elessar held a hand out toward his friend. With only the slightest hesitation, Legolas reached out and gripped it, and together they opened their eyes beneath the sheltering brush within sight of Dol Guldur. Legolas was drenched with sweat. The fever had broken.

Chapter 29:

Appointments to Keep

Thranduil was restive. As the spell that he had cast came close to its conclusion, he felt the weight of the deed upon his heart. He could not regret doing what he must to save the elves but, he reasoned, a father could mourn his son; even a son who had betrayed his people.

Thoughts of his son lead to thoughts of Nenuiel. How long had it been since his queen had stood beside him? Time seemed to have little meaning anymore, but surely it had been long. Where was his wife? Stirring himself from his melancholy ruminations, Thranduil decided that he would seek her out. It would be comforting to grieve for Legolas together with his lady.

His people had something of a camp within the trees. He had not been there, but he knew of it; and so when he did not see Nenuiel amongst the elves who wandered in the clearing before the fortress, Thranduil set his feet in the direction of the camp.

XXX

Had she waited too long, lost in despair?

Nenuiel forced herself to move slowly and with apparent aimlessness as she emerged from the trees to cross the open space between their shelter and the hulking menace of the fortress. Absently she noted that Suluin and the others were quickly and discreetly gathering her people in as she had instructed. Perhaps there was hope for them after all. Perhaps there had been hope all along, but she had failed to see it.

If they had acted immediately when she had reasoned that the torque might be the key, perhaps there would even have been hope for Legolas. But now! Now they were nearly out of time. Time she had wasted in grief.

The woman had been a revelation. When the strange lady had begun speaking, Nenuiel had felt her attention – which had been locked in a state of sorrow, suddenly captured. Serafé Organa Naberrie the woman had named herself; a strange name. And then she had spoken Legolas's name, and her heart had been there in it.

Nenuiel had needed to physically touch her. The queen could hardly trust her own mind in these mad days, and she had needed to verify what her ears had perceived. Nothing could have prepared her for what her questing mind had found at that touch. Somehow between the last Nenuiel had seen her son and now, Legolas had wed. He had wed a human who was also immortal and he had fathered twin babes. And there was no doubt that this Lady Serafé loved him. The woman's heart had been laid bare to Nenuiel; there was no guile in her.

And she was strong. Yes, the lady had broken down when Nenuiel revealed to her that she carried Legolas's children. If she had not, she would be cold indeed, with her husband so close to death. But she had mastered herself quickly. Lady Serafé had obviously come to Dol Guldur, subjecting herself to danger on Legolas's behalf. And so, she was also brave. And yet she had reluctantly submitted to Nenuiel's command to remain at the camp. She had agreed for the sake of the babies, and that was prudent – and loving.

Nenuiel decided she had no choice but to like this strange woman who was her daughter-in-law.

The queen's features remained mild and impassive, despite her tumultuous thoughts. She saw no orc watching and sensed no eyes upon her, but she would take no chances. If she appeared anything other than one more elf afflicted by the spell, she could jeopardize her mission.

It came as a complete shock, then, when a strong hand gripped her upper arm like a vice and a voice hissed in her ear, "Come with me quickly, Nenuiel."

The queen did not speak, but allowed herself to be lead back into the forest. Only when they were a cautious distance beneath its sheltering boughs and she was assured that no orc hid nearby did Nenuiel speak, but she kept her voice low, "What are you doing here, Lord Elrond? I was told that Lord Glorfindel leads the elves who will assault the orc."

"He does, Lady," Elrond agreed. "I came for you. You and I must not intervene in what will happen in the next minutes. Our interference could shift the balance, which is delicate indeed. There will be work enough for us to do when it is over."

"You have had a Foreseeing? Elrond…my son…?"

Elrond shook his head regretfully, "The Foreseeing was not clear to me. Whether Legolas will survive this day, I cannot say. For the moment, he perseveres to do his duty; functioning on will alone. Though when last I saw him he had little enough of that left."

"And what of Thranduil?"

"We must wait and see, Nenuiel. Wait here with me and we shall see."

XXX

Haldir rode at Glorfindel's side with Elladan as they listened to the report of the scouts returning from Dol Guldur. He had work to do, a duty to his people as second in command of the elven force that was soon to assault the Hill of Black Magic, and by The Lady, he would grit his teeth and do it.

Rúmil had discovered a sentry who had noted the departure of the ladies just at dawn and Haldir had found a scout who had seen them together with Gimli heading into the trees of the southern Mirkwood. There was no way Haldir could have caught them up. Their fate was in the hands of the Valar.

But he did not have to like it.

"There are some few Mirkwood elves yet unaffected by the evil spell, my lords," the scout reported, "perhaps a dozen; probably less. They have had some warning of what is to occur, for even now they gather the afflicted elves together. There is a camp within the trees where they take shelter at night. It is due north of the fortress, not quite half a league into the forest. That is where they will be."

"Thank you, Lorthron," Glorfindel responded evenly. "Let us send your brother with fifty elves to keep our Mirkwood kin from harm, Haldir. If they circle round and travel in twos and threes, we may yet keep secret that we mount a major assault."

"I shall instruct him, my lord," Haldir agreed.

XXX

Suluin and a handful of other elves began to guide their brethren into the camp where Feia and Meg waited. When Galion ushered a shuffling elf into the clearing, Meg asked him, "My lord, what is the name of this elf? I would attempt to heal him, if I may."

"His name is Brewain, lady," Galion responded. "He is a master weaver." The elven lord regarded the vacant expression on the artisan's face before saying with both hope and doubt, "I wish you success." Then Galion bowed and glided again into the trees.

Brewain only looked blankly at Meg when she spoke his name; nonetheless, she introduced both herself and Feia and requested permission to perform a healing upon him. He made no response whatsoever, nor did he respond when she laid her hands upon his head. In moments, Meg was deep in healing trance.

Feia was stretched tight as a bowstring with tension. It was maddening to be here and yet unable to do aught for Legolas. But knowing now that every risk she took upon herself endangered their children; Feia's ability to aid her husband was effectively thwarted. She could not even assist Meg in her healing efforts!

Unable to be still any longer, Feia stood and walked the perimeter of the camp. It was unnerving to see elves in this state. Elves do not get sick, yet these elves were seriously ill. Legolas was ill…and dying. Feia wrapped her arms around herself in an unconscious attempt to find comfort, but there was none. She needed a miracle – several miracles; and so she occupied her mind in prayer that the Light would be with her husband and with their friends.

And so it was that she had no warning when an arm encircled her waist roughly and a blade was pressed to her throat. A voice grated, "Edainriel nae Fennas!" Lady of the Gates!

Thranduil!

XXX

Thranduil was determined to find his wife, but she did not appear to be in the camp. He had nearly circled the perimeter when his eyes fell upon a stranger – a woman deep in her own thoughts at the edge of the camp. One look at her face was enough to drive the idea of finding Nenuiel from his mind.

Thranduil knew that face! It was the face of his vision – the face of the bane of elves. Pulling a dagger from his belt, the king of the Mirkwood stalked closer. He would kill her, here and now, and her threat to his people would end.

Or would it? What damage had she inflicted already? She was tied to his son. Had she come here with Legolas, then? If his son were here, he would be seeking a way to stop the spell that would end his existence. Then together, he and this woman would sentence his people to a slow fading death – an inglorious end for an old and honorable race.

Thranduil made a quick decision. The lady would come with him to the fortress and she would be a shield – a hostage to keep Legolas at bay until the spell had finished its work. Not much longer, now! And then Thranduil would kill her and there would be an end to the evil fate his Foreseeing had presaged.

XXX

The elven king's grip on his orc army must be a fairly loose one, Elessar noted. Oh, they had seen orc. They had killed a few, hiding the bodies as they could; and they had seen signs of many more. But there was little to indicate that any formal sort of watch was being kept. Orc were lazy by nature and hated the daylight. Could it be that all the orc were hiding from the sun's face?

It made Elessar nervous. Thranduil had battle experience. He must be mad beyond reason to harbor two thousand orc without enforcing discipline.

Legolas crouched beside him as they studied the broad open clearing that stood between them and the fortress. There were smoldering fire-pits and orc refuse scattered all over the open space, with a few rough sheds and rickety lean-tos. An elf and a ranger could easily disappear in that! Or the elf could if he were not trembling with fatigue, shock, and pain.

"If there are orc out there, they are few," Elessar whispered to Legolas, who nodded.

"Orc or no, time is my worst enemy," Legolas answered, "We must chance it, and without delay."

Elessar stood and offered a hand up to Legolas. It was a measure of how far gone the elf was, that he took the hand without hesitation and leaned upon Elessar's strength heavily in order to rise.

Together they slipped through the nearly deserted orc camp. There were some few orc, snoring in their blankets or hiding inside the sheds and speaking in rough voices. Were there not so many elves living near, Elessar and Legolas might have been given away by their scents, but as it was the orc seemed to be going out of their way not to notice anything that would require effort on their part.

In no time they sheltered in the lee of the long flight of stone steps that ascended to the main gate of the fortress. Even here, where sentries might be expected; there were none. Though their passage across the fields had been fairly easy, Legolas was winded. He squatted, gasping and spent.

"I am going to investigate," Elessar murmured. "Surely there must be guards! Wait here, Legolas."

The elf only nodded, almost vaguely, and leaned back against the cool stone.

XXX

Gimli reached down and cleaned his axe on the rough fabric of the garment the orc sentry was wearing. It had not been particularly alert, this one, and its neck had been half-severed before it realized that it could probably have been doing a better job.

The dwarf dragged the dead guard into the shadows at the inside of the heavy gate that opened into the fortress, and then he slipped silently toward the central tower.

His chief concern had been accidentally bumping into Thranduil. An elf, even a maddened elf, (perhaps especially a maddened elf) would be a bit more of a hindrance than a lazy orc! But Gimli reached the door to the tower without incident, and there he saw the sickly green light he had been warned of.

All he could do now was wait, and hope. Hoping became more of a challenge as, just then, the eleventh gong sounded.