A man walked with long strides down the ornate hallway. He was nearly certain that is was the private corridors of the family that once lived here. A think red carpet covered all but the very edges of the grey tiled hall, and immense crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. On either side of him were various glass vases and the occasional painting.

He came to a halt at one of the paintings. Depicted within it were two females. One older and the other much younger. The eldest appeared to be in her thirty's with dark brown hair and green eyes. She was fair as any mortal maiden, but she had wisdom about her. She reminded the man of one he knew, though he could not place the face. His eyes traveled over the pale grey dress to the carved sword that rested on her hip. Ah, that was it. The way her hand rested lightly on its silver hilt, as though she were waiting for something. She was in action and looks a fair bit like the Lady Morwen. Not exactly, and not alike enough to be related, but close enough to the queen of Rohan that at first glance you could mistake the two.

The girl beside her wore a black dress trimmed with pearls. Her raven's hair tumbled about her face. She was for all purposes, a girl one would despise upon meeting. He did not know if it was her heart shaped face or the unsettling grey eyes that reminded him of Godéad's. And that was when he realized it. He was looking at Godéad's long dead family.

He stared at the girl for a moment, saddened that if she had grown she would have been black as her father. He pitied her. He really did. With a sigh he continued along the hall, he had a job to attend to.

---&---

"The wind whispers silent words

That no one seems to hear.

The hunter stands among the herds

Filled with silent deer

The stars light a silent sky

A deep and empty black

They guide on wings that do not fly

Until they bring me back…"

-Hazle

---&---

Each morning a fresh sun would rise. Recovered from the previous day's trials. Each night the moon rose to grant the sun its rest.

That was the way of the world. All things, be they elf, human, or dwarf needed rest. And rest they were not getting.

The day before last Legolas had gone to find Aragorn. The day before last the human had slapped Elladan. Neither prince nor ranger had been seen since. They worked mostly in silence those days. None of them much had the heart to talk. Of the original five they had been two only remained in the mines. Glorfindel had been called off to serve a dinner and would be used as a personal slave.

They were all interested in how that would turn out. Sometimes they would tell riddles to keep noise in the silent mines.

As Lamaeneth walked over with another barrow of coal the edges of her frayed skirt tore even more. She stumbled, as all beings are wont to do when tired, and fell to her knees. She was down for only an instant. Ignoring the jeers and whistles of the overseers she continued on, watching where she put her feet. They could not afford a mistake now. Again she rose and emptied her cart.

She approached the overseer's and met their eyes squarely.

"I am due at the healing ward. I beg your leave."

"Leave granted," one yawned.

Lamaeneth walked up the halls, but she was not heading towards the healing wing. No, she was heading to the hollow spot Legolas had found days before. A hidden message had been delivered from him via Naerdor, so she had no fear of the man.

As she walked quietly towards the agreed meeting place (Legolas had said someone would be there) she pondered her options.

Stay where she was, as a slave.

Break free, return to Rivendell.

Or die.

She dearly hoped the second one would be the winner. She stepped onto the red carpet floor walking silently. A man stood ahead, a dark haired man.

"Aragorn," she nodded to him, showing no more respect then she would in Imladris.

"Lamaeneth, are you the one Legolas has sent?"

"What! You betrayed us how dare you…" she began but he shushed her.

"Be silent, Lamaeneth, it was an act. It earned me their respect, I swear it. Please, there is help, weapons to be gotten. Elves to alert and we need your help!"

"Tell me about this plan," she said, observing a painting of a horse.

"Come out," he whispered in elvish. Lamaeneth turned to examine another painting, one of a woman and a girl. A door to her left opened, and for an instant she was sure she saw the woman follower by a silver haired elf.

"Lamaeneth, meet Steelsheen of Rohan and Randir of Mirkwood," Aragorn said in greeting, nodding to the elleth.

"Ah, are you…?" as the elf spoke she indicated the painting, but now she could see subtle differences in the two.

Morwen's eyes were a shade of darker green and her hair was curlier. The eyes of the woman in the painting were more of an almond shape than those of Rohan's queen. But they were close enough to mistake at a casual glance.

"Nay. And I thank all the Valar that I am not her. For I fear she met a bitter end, though of her daughter I do not know."

"Nor do I think she died pleasantly. Though she must have been loved, for this painting shows all her beauty," Randir said in response. For a moment they stood in silence, each looking at the next.

"The hollow is here," Lamaeneth began, tapping on the apparently sturdy wall. "If we can get weapons-"

"I can do that," Aragorn broke in meeting her eyes.

"Very well, Glorfindel and I can gather them on out way back down, I will be sure to do laundry that day."

"Glorfindel?" Aragorn asked; why would the elf be coming.

"Yes. He walks me to and from on occasion. I must go, but I have one more question…"

"Yes?"

The elleth's eyes grew cold and she appraised him, her face was hard, "Can we trust you?" she said finally.

"What?" Aragorn was surprised.

"Can. We. Trust. You?" she repeated slowly.

The question hurt, Aragorn didn't want to admit it but it hurt. It was justified, he supposed, after all he had done to them…

"Yes," he replied vehemently. "You can trust me."

The conviction in his voice stalled Lamaeneth but she now believed him. "Very well, may we put the plan in action tomorrow?"

"Yes," Aragorn replied.

"Very well, I must go to the healing wing. They may decide to check on me, but I shall see you then. If…if you come," she spoke the last part quietly before departing down the hall. Aragorn stared after her and turned back to Morwen and Randir, but the queen and the elf were gone.

He looked about him and set off; he had some business to attend to.

-

Caireth leaned over the elf, one finger trailing idly down his cheek, she could tell he was tired, but even so he tried to pull away.

"Tsk, tsk, my pet, you know better than to pull away from me, do you not?" he voice was oily and she moved so that her face was only inches from the elven one.

Legolas' cropped hair was not able to hide his features, so his anger, and yes, fear, were evident to the red-haired woman.

She ran her fingers over his lips, smiling as he pulled away; she remembered from her first meeting with the elf that he hated it.

Her methods of torture were more refined than those of her brother, she preferred mental to physical, and right now she had plenty of ammo.

"What is it my pet, why do you not call out for your pathetic ranger friend, why does he not help you?"

"I am hardly pathetic, Lady Caireth. But come now, it's my turn with the prisoner. And you should be helping your brother, so please, I will take over from here," Aragorn spoke from the doorway.

Caireth sighed loudly and left, smiling beautifully at Aragorn for a moment before she made her exit. The ranger knew she was watching however, he could feel her behind him. So even though it made his heart twist he ran his hand over the elf's cuts, digging his nails in at some points.

Her presence left slowly and suddenly Aragorn stopped, kneeling in front of the elf.

"Legolas, look at me, please," he begged, trying to catch the elf's eyes.

"Why, I do not wish to see the eyes of a traitor!" the elf hissed.

"Legolas please…I was...I had to. I could not risk her knowing what I was doing. It was a masquerade Legolas, and only a masquerade. You must believe me!"

"Am I to believe that when you refused my comfort, or when you watched your new friend torture me, that was a mask?"

"I wish it were so Legolas, but I…I cannot tell you that it was and is. I was not pretending those times, I truly meant it. I was...wrong, when I said it. I do not pretend that I wasn't, but please…believe me!"

The elf met his eyes cautiously, his heart hurt when he saw the human's face, he had watched Cairdor torture him, perhaps enjoyed it. But now…now? The elf closed his eyes and sagged against the wall, but he did not flinch when Aragorn gently brushed away strands of hair out of his face.

The door opened.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

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It's late, I know! Very late! I am SO SO SO SO SO sorry! (Hey, I DID try to post yesterday, but was down…didn't work. NOT MY FAULT!) The good news is, plans on the sequel are almost done. Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this (short) but sweet chappy.

And for the record, AiH I did not ruin your scene!