Night had fallen long ago. The moon was high in the sky; the sun had hidden her face hours back. Yet sleep had not been granted to Seregeth's two prisoners. An interrogation had been under way all day concerning the matter of the Prince's book, but no answers had been given. Legolas, though he had improved since that morning was still unwell, and spoke very little. Criltha stubbornly maintained that she knew nothing.
"How did you come by this book?" Seregeth snapped at the Elfling, for what seemed the hundredth time.
"Ada…"
"And how did he come by it?"
Legolas shook his head once – it hurt – and pulled the blanket tighter around his body. He was still slightly feverish, but the heat coupled with his natural ability to heal was combating it well. "I don't know," he sighed. "Ada just…just gave it to me."
"Without telling you where he got it?"
"No, it was a present." Legolas glanced down at Mellon, who lay subdued at his side. "It was a present that I promised to look after."
"Of course, if it belonged to royalty," Seregeth sneered. Narrowing his eyes, he folded his arms over his chest, and stared at the boy. "I may not be very well learned in lore and history, but I can tell you the names of kings of men and their dates. I can tell you where they ruled, who their families were, how they died, and so on and so forth. I expect that Criltha can also, and she is even less well learned than I. I find it very hard to believe that you cannot do the same for your own race. In fact, I do not believe it."
Legolas turned his face away with closed eyes, and sighed deeply. "Yes. You are right. I know who Thranduil is."
"I thought so. Now. Tell me."
"He is not a Prince," Legolas whispered. "Well, he is - a Sindarin Prince. But he is also… He is the King of Mirkwood."
Seregeth looked up, and arched an eyebrow. "Is he? Is he indeed?"
"Yes."
"And you know him, don't you? I can see it in your eyes," the man hissed. "You know the Elf who once owned this book; and damn it! You will not tell me! I will get it out of you, boy, before this night is out. Believe me."
"What if you are wrong?"
Seregeth curled his lip as he flicked his eyes across to where Criltha sat on her own mattress. "And that means what, exactly? How might I be wrong?"
"To my mind, it is no matter that Legolas has the book of a King or Prince or whoever this Elf may be," the girl replied. "Items such as this get passed around from family to family; they are sold for high prices at markets. I just think, with all due respect, that you are jumping to the wrong conclusions."
"No." Seregeth stared at the book in his hands for a moment, before shaking his head and throwing it at Legolas. "No, he is keeping a secret from me. I dislike secrets, and this one will not be kept."
With a venomous glare at each of his prisoners, the man turned on his heel and slammed through the door. A second later, the crash of another door was heard – Seregeth had stormed into his own room, like a child in a temper. Legolas was silent, staring at the floor. The sweat which had covered his body for most of the day was gradually dissipating, but he did not even notice the fading discomfort.
He had come close, so close to jumping to his feet and screaming, 'Thranduil is my father! You have captive the son of a King!' The man's constant flow of accusations and questions had been not just tedious, but wearying for the unwell Elfling; and all he had wanted was for the noise to go away. And now it had. Now it was silent, and perhaps his ill body would finally be allowed some sleep.
"You look better than you did earlier," Criltha quietly observed.
"Elves heal very quickly, even children. I do feel a bit better. My head still pains me, though," Legolas replied. "And I am tired. I want very much to go to sleep, and…and just forget everything that has happened."
"Maybe you can, in a minute."
"What?"
Criltha was silent for a moment, but then she moved from her own mattress to the Elfling's, and said in a low voice: "I knew who Thranduil was before you revealed that he is King of Mirkwood. I used to hear his name mentioned on occasion in my village – it is fairly close to your home. Your name, however, I have never heard. I suppose that is because you are but a child."
"I am not sure why you are saying this," Legolas said slowly.
"Because I know who you are. I am not entirely stupid, I can add up." Criltha shook her head, and let out a deep exhale of breath. "I have put two and two together, and come up with this: You are Thranduil's son. You are a Prince of Mirkwood, held prisoner here by Seregeth. Royalty."
Legolas' eyes widened, and he stared at the girl in horror. "How did you…? But if you know, that means he must…"
"Calm yourself. He does not know, and I am not going to tell him," Criltha said. "But why is it so important that your identity is a secret?"
"Because if Seregeth knew that I was…am royalty, any terrible thing could happen. He could sell me to slavers for a high price. He could kill me and get rid of my body so that should my father ever realise that I was here, his wrath would not be incurred," Legolas replied, despair creeping into his voice. "Don't you see? It is safer for me that he does not know. Please, you cannot tell him."
"I have already said that I will not." Criltha stared at the boy for a whole minute, before shaking her head slowly. "Despite that, your secret will not be kept. Before long, I do not doubt that Seregeth will guess the truth, as I have. And that puts you in a dangerous position. A very dangerous position."
"I know," Legolas whispered.
"You need to get away from here," Criltha said in a low voice.
"Escape? But I… How could I? Seregeth would catch me, I know he would. He told me on my first day here that no-one escapes. He always catches them." Legolas shook his head vehemently, too panicked to even notice the pain. "No. I must stay here."
"Until someone comes to rescue you?" the girl laughed. "If that has not happened yet, it never will. Only you can save yourself."
Legolas looked out through the window at the dark sky, and sighed. "I do not know where I am. I do not know anyone here. I would only be taken prisoner again, but by someone else. And maybe they would treat me in worse ways than Seregeth does. He hurts me, but at least I have food and shelter. I suppose that in some ways, I should count myself lucky."
"What if…" Criltha fell silent again almost immediately, and looked away. "No."
"Go on."
"What if I escaped instead? You could help me to do it," the girl said slowly, staring at the wall with unseeing eyes. "I know vaguely where we are. I could get help."
"That is a risk," Legolas replied.
"But, for freedom I would be prepared to take it. All of my life I have been a prisoner, trapped by different men who wanted the same thing. I could never run," Criltha murmured. "I was always too afraid, because I was alone. But now there is another whose life is at stake. If I cannot summon the courage to escape for my own sake, I should be able to for yours."
"You will do this?" Legolas breathed, all pain and discomfort forgotten.
Criltha looked down at the Elfling, and their eyes locked. She nodded once. "Yes. Tonight."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Elrohir poked at the fire with a long stick, feeling a savage pleasure as the flames caught it, and burned it black. The fire, like him, was angry. Unlike him, it was venting its anger by roaring and cracking, hissing and spitting, wrapping orange jaws around the wood piled on top of it. He was just sitting in sullen silence, not talking to Elladan because Elladan would not talk to him; not talking to Glorfindel, because it was the seneschal who his brother had confided in.
He rarely felt the green claws of jealousy grab at him. In fact, this was one of the only times he could remember being afflicted with it. But it was unfair. He was Elladan's twin, they told each other everything. There was not one thing about his brother that he did not know, and there was not one thing about him that his brother did not know. But apparently that was all changing.
"You are not an Elfling, Elrohir."
The young Elf looked up sharply, and glared at Glorfindel through the fire. "Did I call myself one?" he demanded.
"No. But you are acting like one. You are moody and sulking. Why?" the seneschal asked softly. "Is it just because your brother wants to be alone?"
"No!" Elrohir snapped. "That is not it, I…I just… Never mind. You would not understand, I am sure."
"Very well, then." Glorfindel got to his feet, and started to walk towards the mouth of the cave. "Keep that fire under control."
"Why does my brother not trust me?"
At the small voice, the Elf-lord stopped. He looked back to Elrohir, and smiled gently. "What makes you ask such a question?"
"Something troubles Elladan, yet instead of coming to me, he went straight to you. Even after speaking with you, he would not tell me," the dark haired Elf murmured. "He has shut me from his mind, and no matter how I try, I cannot get through to him. Is it me? Have I done something to upset him?"
"I will not betray a confidence," Glorfindel replied. He sat next to his charge, and touched a hand to his shoulder. "But I will say this: you are twins. You are closer than most siblings, and you always know each other's thoughts. You know when Elladan wants company, he knows when you want to be alone. You know if he is angry, and he can sense if you are sad. Surely if you had done something to upset your brother, you would have realised before now?"
Elrohir shook his head slowly as he poked the stick into the fire a little less aggressively than before. "I…I suppose so, yes. But he is upset, whether it was my doing or not. I only want to know why. Is that too much to ask?"
"Of me, yes. But not of him," Glorfindel replied.
"He will only push me away," Elrohir said quietly.
"Perhaps he thinks that he is doing the right thing. You will not know unless you try and talk to him. I-
Glorfindel fell silent as the other twin entered the cave from the dark outside. Elladan glanced over at the two, but spoke no words; although when his eyes met the seneschal's, he shook his head as if to say 'nothing'. Elrohir watched the exchange in silence for a moment, but as his brother picked up a water skin and left once more, he jumped to his feet and followed him determinedly.
"Elladan!" he called. "Elladan, wait for me. Night has fallen. It would be safer if you were not alone out here."
The other twin stopped, and turned with a strange smile. "I can take care of myself."
"I know you can. I just…thought that you could do with some company," Elrohir replied. "After all, you have been out here for ages with no-one to talk to. Do you mind if I stay?"
"Suit yourself," Elladan shrugged.
The two walked in silence for a while, not looking at each other, and caught up in their own thoughts. Elrohir's confusion had only deepened instead of being alleviated. At least his brother had spoken, but the voice had been so careless, so cold. That was not natural for the usually cheerful Elf. What had happened? Elladan's eyes were fixed on the black sky, and he seemed not even to notice that his twin was there. He was preoccupied with listening out for the blood curdling screams of the night before.
High up in one of the trees an owl hooted loudly, and flapped away through the branches. Elladan wheeled around with a sharp breath, his eyes wildly searching for whatever had made the noise. When Elrohir put a hand on his arm to calm him, he jumped, and pushed it away. His brother stared at him in both anger and worry; and he felt the sudden fear subside slightly, to be replaced by guilt.
"I…I'm sorry," he began softly.
"Sorry? You should be, because you treat me as though I am an enemy," Elrohir replied, his voice sharp. "I am not, Elladan. I am your brother, your twin. I am your best friend, yet I have not felt like it all day. You shut me out of your mind, you tell me not to bother you, you push me away; and I am supposed to ignore that?"
"I wish you would," Elladan replied quietly.
"Indeed. And, why would that be? What could possibly be so awful that you have to keep it from me?" Elrohir snapped. "Have you done something? Has something been done to you? Are you hurt? You have to tell me, because I do not know if my guesses are wrong or right."
"They are wrong."
"So put me right."
A silence hung in the air for a moment, before Elladan nodded once, and sat down on the grassy floor. Pulling at the green blades and letting them tickle his fingers, he explained everything to his brother, shivering slightly as he recalled all that he had heard the previous night. When the short story was over, Elrohir also sat, but he did not speak any words.
"What do you think?" Elladan asked after a while.
"I think that you should have told me before."
"I was afraid that I would only worry you."
"You worried me anyway."
"I thought that I was doing the right thing, I thought that I was protecting you. Besides, I did not want to spoil the trip for you," Elladan sighed. "In hindsight, I suppose that keeping it from you only made matters worse."
Elrohir smiled, and reached across to touch his brother's arm. "Never mind. You had my best interests at heart, so I think that I can find it within me to forgive you. But next time, just remember that nothing you say will be too much for me to help you with. You are my brother, 'Dan. Seeing you in any form of pain hurts me."
"You will make me blush," Elladan muttered. He raised his eyes, and caught his twin's. "Thank you, 'Ro. Your words mean a lot to me, although there was no real need to say them. You know that I feel the same?"
"Of course." Elrohir smiled. "Do you want me to stay out here with you? I will, providing we move closer to the cave where perhaps I will feel the heat of the fire."
As they rose and started the walk back to their campsite, Elladan sighed. "I hope… No, I don't know. There is a part of me that wants to hear the screams again, because if I do, I will know that my mind did not conjure them. But the other part is afraid to hear them. They pained my heart."
"If you hear them tonight, you will have no need to fear them," Elrohir said, with a gentle smile. "You will not be alone."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Criltha looked at Legolas in the lamplight, and worry flitted across her face. She shook her head slowly. "I don't know. I am no longer sure that this is a good idea."
"What? How can you say that? We have already planned-
"Hush, we do not want to alert Seregeth," Criltha hissed. "I did not mean that I am unsure of escape. I meant instead that maybe we should do it another night. You have not yet fully recovered."
"I am better than I was this morning," Legolas replied grimly.
"But we only have one chance," the girl said in a low voice. "Being here does not strengthen you at the best of times, but tonight you are weakened. If we fail, it is over. Remaining here will be our fate."
"I want to do this, whether I am still recovering or not. I have been here for what seems years, and what I want more than anything is to be free and with the ones I love," Legolas said quietly. He got to his feet, and made his way without a noise to the door. "If you want something desperately enough, you can achieve it."
"Wait." Criltha rose also, and rested a hand on the child's shoulder. She smiled gently at him. "Do not expect to be free by morning light. I will be as swift as I can in finding help, but you must prepare yourself for another day or two here."
"I can do that," Legolas said, defiance creeping into his voice.
The two prisoners looked at each other for a moment, silent messages of good luck and hope passing from eyes brightened with anticipation. Fear there was also, and doubt – that they would fail in their carefully thought out plan, and be back in the very same room in just a few minutes. Either of them could choose to back out, but neither would. If they did not at least try for freedom, they would never know.
Legolas was still; but then, drawing in a deep breath to calm the nerves that he could not help but feel, he turned the handle of the door, and pulled it ever so slightly towards him, so that it hung ajar. He rested his head against the wall, and peered outside with only one eye. It was dark in the next room. And empty. Good. At least the first part of their plan could be carried out with no disaster.
Seregeth was shut away in his own room. Seregeth was shut away in his own room. Seregeth was shut away in his own room. As he crept through the darkened cottage, taking care not to step on or knock against anything which could announce his presence too early, Legolas repeated those words in his head like a mantra. For the moment, he was safe. And strangely enough, now that the time had come for action, he was also calm.
The Prince lifted from the table the bowl of fruit which had sat there during his whole imprisonment; and carried it noiselessly to the front door. It was large and made of a crystalline material, and would definitely shatter upon impact. But that was good. It was soon to be thrown – hard – and it had to make noise. Lots of noise.
'Do it now,' Legolas told himself. 'Pretend that you are firing an arrow. Find your target: Seregeth's door. Concentrate… Line it up so that you do not miss. Hold yourself steady. Take a deep breath. Fire.'
And so he did. As soon as the fruit bowl left his hands, the Elfling whirled around and threw himself out of the front door. He heard a crash and the sound of shattering glass, and also he could hear pieces of fruit thudding like heavy raindrops against the floor. But he was already running, running as he had never run before, up the long stretch of grass outside the cottage.
The only sound for a moment was the whipping wind and his own barely audible footsteps. But then came what he had been waiting for: an angry shout from inside the cottage, and heavy footsteps upon the ground. Seregeth was following. That was good. Legolas forced himself to speed up – he had to get his captor as far away from Criltha as possible.
"Come back here, boy!"
"No, catch me," the child whispered.
Never before had he been this far up the field, mainly for fear that he would be hurt. But now, regardless of the pain in his head and the gathering dots before his eyes, he let his feet fly. The brook ran alongside him, wider and deeper than it was down by the cottage. The moonlight shone in it, and Legolas looked down. Reflected in the silver water was his own reflection, and a little way behind, Seregeth's.
"Don't stop," the Elfling breathed to himself. "Don't stop until he catches you."
But the chase lasted only a matter of seconds more. Legolas, despite his slightly weakened condition was agile and swift, but the mortal had long limbs, and they could not be outpaced by a child. When he deemed himself to be close enough, he jumped forwards and pushed his prisoner onto the ground. He went down also, but he did not rise. Instead he straddled the boy, and struck him.
"Let go of me!" Legolas screamed. If his voice grew hoarse and his throat sore, so be it. The diversion had to work. "Let go of me, you cruel and spineless torturer! Let me-
Seregeth grabbed his prisoner's head, and slammed it back against the ground. "What is the meaning of this?" he shouted. "How dare you?"
"How dare I? I dare because I wanted to, and you cannot stop me!" Legolas spat. "I wanted water – better water than that which you give me. It is like you – scummy and foul. No-one in their right mind would touch it. It would more than likely poison them."
"You insolent little brat," Seregeth snarled. "You have made a mistake, the biggest one of your life. You will pay dearly for it, you…"
The man's threats spilled like a waterfall; and although Legolas feared them, at that moment he cared not for them. His eyes drifted ever so slightly past his captor's left shoulder, and there was movement by the cottage. Criltha. She was leaving. As the girl stepped over the shallow and thinned stream, and disappeared into the dark trees, the boy breathed an inward sigh of relief, and looked back up at Seregeth.
"Do what you will to me," he hissed. "It does not matter any more."
"When you lie on the floor, broken and bleeding, you will not be saying that," the mortal spat back. He glared through blazing eyes for a moment, before rising and dragging the boy with him. "Come. You are going to learn a lesson. Another one."
"You are a bad teacher," Legolas sneered. Criltha had gone, that meant his part was over. But now that he had started rebelling, he could not stop. Five weeks of anger, pain and grief was spilling from him, and he was unable to halt it.
"Hold your tongue," Seregeth snapped.
"And if I do not?"
"I will cut it out."
As he was forced back to the cottage, Legolas pulled back his lips as a cat does, and stuck out his tongue with a hiss. "All that just to make me silent? Why? Do you have no more ideas? Have you run out?"
They had reached the stables. Seregeth suddenly whirled around, and grabbed the Elfling by the throat. He pinned him against the stone wall, his grasp cruelly tight. "I never run out of ideas, my child. You just have yet to see them all."
"Let go!"
"Am I hurting you?"
The man's grip tightened around the slender throat, his rough and calloused fingers rubbing painfully against the contrasting smooth skin. Legolas tried to cough, but it pained him greatly, and his eyes started to water. They were not just tears of agony, but tears of fear. He was no longer being tortured. He was being murdered. His captor was killing him.
"I…I can't breathe," he choked.
"I said I would silence you," Seregeth snarled. He held the boy against the wall for another few seconds, before jerking his hand away. "And so I have."
As Legolas hit the ground, he pressed a shaking hand to his sore throat, and rubbed gently at the chafed skin. He was fully aware of the sea-blue eyes staring down at him from on high, but he made no attempt to meet them with his own streaming ones, for he could not. Not yet. All he could desperately think was that the man had been strangling him; all he could wonder was if Seregeth was capable of murder.
"Get up," the icy voice commanded quietly.
The Elfling rose, feeling vaguely surprised that his shaking legs were holding him up. "What are you going to do?" he whispered.
"Do? Well, you and I are going to talk. In there." Seregeth pointed towards the cottage. "Go."
Legolas obeyed. He walked slowly into the small building, and stood in silence before the dead fire. Staring at the blackened pieces of wood and paper, he heard his captor disappear into the bedroom on the left hand side, and re-appear a few seconds later. But he did not turn. That would prove to be a mistake, though, as he learnt when a searing pain flashed across his shoulders.
He spun around with a cry, and stared in horror. "What are you doing?" he breathed. "What is that?"
"This?" Seregeth looked down at the many tailed black whip that lay in his hands, and smiled slowly. "This is what happens to little boys who make trouble."
The cruel device snapped across Legolas' chest before he had a chance to move away from it. Its sharp edges ripped through his thin tunic, leaving red welts across his tender skin. Some of the lines started to bead with blood. Tears pricked at the child's eyes, but he blinked them back; and with his head held high, stared defiantly at his torturer.
"You are brave." Seregeth flicked the whip against the small body before him. "I know grown men who would cry over this." Another assault. "You are determined not to let your tears flow." The many tails swept through the air again. "I wonder. From who did you inherit your stubbornness and pride?"
Legolas thought of his father, but said nothing. Of course he wanted to cry. Any child would. But he could be as brave as Thranduil, he knew that he could. He had done it so many times before. The Elven-king of Mirkwood would be too strong to shed tears for this, and his son was going to be no different. The Prince ignored the blood on his chest, but the pain would not go away as easily.
'It hurts, it hurts,' he screamed silently. 'But no. Think of Ada again. He is the bravest person that you know; and if you cry, that would be weak. No son of his would cry before someone like Seregeth. Do not be weak.'
But it was getting increasingly harder to keep up the display of strength. The mortal was relentless in the punishment; and every lash of the whip seemed to contain just that little bit more cruelty than the last. As he struggled to keep his balance, Legolas could not help wondering if even the bravery of his father would be able to hold out for much longer against such agony.
"You are in pain. So much pain," Seregeth murmured, pausing for a moment to watch in morbid fascination as crimson droplets fell down the boy's lacerated chest. "But I am not going to stop. Oh no. I will continue with this until I receive two things. Firstly: your tears. Secondly: I want to know everything about the Elf-king of Mirkwood that you are not telling me."
"You will be waiting a long time for both," Legolas said through gritted teeth. But deep down, he knew that to be an idle threat. He was close, so close to breaking.
"Wrong answer." Seregeth raised the whip high above his head, and brought it whistling down to assault his victim's shoulders. The force of the device and pain it left sent Legolas to the ground, and although he struggled to get back to his feet, more lashes against his side rendered him incapable. He curled in on himself like a ball, protecting his head from the cruelty. But the rest of him was left without defence.
"Tell me what I want to know, and I will spare you," Seregeth snarled.
"No."
"Tell me."
"Never!"
Tears spilled from Legolas' eyes as the blood leaked from his multiple wounds and lacerations. His whole body was shaking with fear, pain. His bravery was no more. His strength had been beaten from him, and Seregeth was fully aware of that. He knew just how close he was to breaking his little victim, and he was not going to stop now.
"One out of two is not bad," he said, pausing to wipe some sweat off his brow. "But I do not settle for just one. So, tell me. Tell me what I want to know."
"Ada," Legolas whispered.
"What did you say?"
"Ada."
A feral growl escaped Seregeth's lips, and he kicked the curled up and shaking body with a booted foot. "Your 'ada' is precious to you. He is all you speak of. But do you think that you are precious to him? If that is so, why has he not come for you?"
"You don't understand," Legolas sobbed. "I didn't mean that-
"Of course I do." Seregeth picked up his whip, and trailed it lazily over the Elfling's cheek. "I understand more than you do. Your 'ada' hated you, and when you disappeared from Mirkwood, he rejoiced."
"Don't say that," Legolas whispered through sharp gasps of breath. 'It isn't true.'
"Then, what is the truth? Tell me, boy. Tell me everything," Seregeth snapped.
The Elfling looked up, and stared through wet eyes at the loosely held whip. "You meant it," he murmured. "When you said that I would be broken and bleeding on the floor, you really meant it."
"I did," Seregeth replied, his voice like velvet. "And I can do worse if you do not speak soon."
"I will tell you the truth, because I do not think that the ending to this story will change, no matter how many chapters are left. If I keep silent, you will kill me. But if I talk, you will kill me sooner or later," Legolas said softly. "Why should I delay what is inevitable?"
"This is not what I want to hear," Seregeth snarled.
The child touched a hand to his chest, and when he raised it to eye level, it was bloody. He stared at it, and said in a low voice: "It is my father's name in that book. I am Legolas Thranduilion, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, and heir to the throne."
There was silence. Seregeth gazed at his victim, the expression on his face one of mixed emotions. He seemed unable to decide whether to laugh scornfully at the Elfling's statement, or swear violently and kick the wall. In the end he opted for neither. He simply raised one eyebrow and said: "What?" He sounded calmer than he felt inside.
"I am the son of the King," Legolas said quietly. "That is the truth. So I will swear before all of the Valar. And maybe you are right. Maybe my father does hate me. But even if he does, he will still be searching for me. He needs an heir."
This time, Seregeth did swear. He sank into one of the chairs at the table, and rested his head in his hands. He was muttering fearfully to himself, but Legolas did not listen. Holding a hand against his bloody chest, and breathing deeply to try and ease the pain that coursed all through his body, he sat up slowly. Some of his wounds stretched, others thinned, but it all conceived equal amounts of suffering. And still the red liquid fell.
"You claim to be the Prince of Mirkwood," Seregeth said after a while.
"I do not claim. I am," Legolas replied wearily.
The man shook his head as he stared at the prisoner. "There is no reason for me to believe you. After all, what proof do you have that you are the son of this King? None."
"I would have thought that the book is proof enough," the child answered.
"Even if you are telling me the truth this time, do not think that it changes anything. Of course this punishment is nothing compared to what you will receive for keeping such a secret, but it will not change anything. There are only three people who know that you are here. I am one of them. Amarth is another. A friend of mine is the last," Seregeth said. "None of us will reveal your whereabouts, should an army of Elves come asking."
"No, I don't suppose you will." Legolas dabbed gingerly at his wounds with the material of his ragged and torn tunic. "But at least now you know. That is what you wanted."
Seregeth opened his mouth to reply, but then he paused, and looked towards the door of the Elfling's room. "What is Criltha doing?" he asked softly. "Why has she not yet stuck her nose in to interfere in my business?"
Legolas swallowed, but he said nothing as the man got up and went to the door. He sat in silence, expecting to hear a roar of rage at any second. But there was nothing. Why? This was not natural. He had thought that the man would be furious, but it was not so. Seregeth re-appeared a few seconds later, a strange smile upon his face as he looked down through glittering eyes at his captive.
"So," he said quietly. "She has gone."
"Yes."
"And you helped her?"
"Yes."
"Where has she gone?"
"I do not know."
Seregeth's smile widened, although the light in his eyes was angry as he picked up a cloak from a peg by the door, and threw it around his shoulders. "Very well. I am going to search for her. If I do not find her, I shall return. But I shall not be alone."
"What do you mean?" Legolas whispered.
"You will see."
……………………………………………………………………………………………...
Thank you all for your reviews, they mean a lot to me! I'm not quite sure what to say here because I'm really hungry – it's 10 in the evening and I haven't eaten nearly all day, and I'm really desperate to find some food!
I'm on Christmas holidays from college now, so although I have lots of assignments to do – one being that I have to observe my cats' behaviour for a minimum of six hours! – I'll also have more time to write.
The next chapter will be up on…well, Sunday is Christmas Day, isn't it? So I'll try and put the next chapter up on either Christmas Eve or Boxing Day.
Off to find some food now!
Misto
x-x
