A/N: Hello whoever has not yet given up on me! ;) I am so sorry it has taken so long (so much for 2-3 weeks….) Classes have drained me & when I finally do have time, my mind is always still so stuck on everything else that I can't get into the right "mode." Anyway, I know how annoying it can be waiting for an update, but I tried to make this a long one to make up for the delay… So here you go & hopefully the next wait won't be quite so long!

Disclaimer: I now know the legal consequences of breaking copyright laws and so I will no longer joke about this, nope, no more. This is serious business. Legolas, Aragorn, Thranduil, and Gandalf are not mine.  But Tolkien, wherever you are, you're more than welcome to my boys!

Chapter 14

Decisions

Aragorn awoke with a start to the cawing of black crows and the twittering of creatures rummaging through the skeletal forest for the scant remains of carcasses and twigs.  A nebulous, simmering mist hung over the syrupy lake, through which the hazy afternoon sun shone giving the water an eerie, slick glimmer.  Cursing himself both for dozing off in the first place and for the length of time he must have slept, Aragorn straightened and turned anxiously towards Legolas.

The elf lay peacefully next to him, eyes closed, and lost in a deep, serene sleep.  Aragorn carefully examined his shoulder and ribs to make sure they were healing properly and then searched the elf's face for signs of pain. But beside the fact that Legolas slept in the manner of humans rather than elves, with his eyes tightly shut, he showed no sign of strain or suffering in his smooth, relaxed features.  Aragorn could not help the twitch in his lips as he gazed at Legolas for the formidable archer now looked as harmless as a young human who had just spent the night celebrating with a little too much wine. Alas that it was not celebrating that had taken such a toll on the elf's energy!

Aragorn carefully tightened a ripped piece of his cape around Legolas' shoulder, taking care not to disturb the elf's sleep and noting the steady pulse in his slender wrist as he did so.  Suddenly, as he gently laid Legolas' arm back down across his chest, Aragorn's attention was diverted by a most unusual, most disturbing sensation. A rough tongue and foul breath tickled his cheek followed by a huff and a nudge and the crunching of twigs under a stumping hoof.

"What the devil…" he muttered as he swiftly turned and swatted at the intruding creature as if it were a fly. But his eyes widened when he discovered the identity of his audacious paramour.

"How in Middle Earth did you get here?!" Aragorn exclaimed. Thranduil's horse, Neila – the very one he had been riding – snorted and stamped its feet in response to Aragorn's rude welcome.  Considering how difficult it was for him and Legolas to climb down the cliff, Aragorn could not even begin to imagine how a horse, even one of Thranduil's impressive steeds, would make it down unless…

With a sudden queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Aragorn leapt to his feet and peered past the chagrined horse.  When his suspicion was confirmed, the queasy feeling turned into downright nausea accompanied by a loud groan.  Had they run but a hundred meters to the left, they could have descended a gentle hill rather than fumbling down a steep, treacherous cliff. Though charred remains of trees blackened the peak of the hill, the rain had quenched the flames before they had a chance to move further down and Aragorn could see the vague divide between the scorched, black remains of the fire and the general darkness and shadow that suffocated the rest of Mirkwood. Indeed there was not much difference at all between the burnt and non-burnt trees except perhaps the nakedness of the stripped, scalded trunks. "Curse this wood!" Aragorn gritted as he turned angrily around and again laid his eyes on his injured companion.

Angry at being so blatantly ignored by the human, the horse snorted and Aragorn frowned in annoyance. "Yes I know - you found a much better way down than we did. Congratulations," he grumbled sardonically.

The horse shook its head and then peered curiously at Legolas as if noticing him for the first time.  With a soft snort, it bent down and gently prodded the flaxen head with its snout. When Legolas did not respond, the horse huffed and nudged him again a little more aggressively. Frustrated with the continued lack of response, the obstinate animal neighed and proceeded to lick the elf's cheek and forehead, at first tentatively, but growing more insistent as the elf still did not stir.    

Aragorn cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms as the horse, like a small toddler trying to get his parents' attention, continued to grow more frustrated and more persistent.  It whinnied and stamped its front hoof as it drew closer and closer to a full-blown tantrum. Though at first amused by this sight, worry began to tug at Aragorn's mind as Legolas continued to remain perfectly still in the wake of the horse's flaring aggravation and childlike temper. With one long stride, Aragorn moved beside the horse and dropped to his knees, running a hand over Legolas' forehead and grimacing at the slimy horse slobber coating the elf's pale, clammy skin. This act the horse did not approve of however and with a forceful nudge, it shoved Aragorn aside in order to continue its own relentless prodding.

"Look, Neila, he is not waking up…" Aragorn began, but he stopped when Legolas stirred uncomfortably as the horse drew its warm, coarse tongue tantalizingly from his chin up to his forehead not missing his nose or eyelids as it did so. Encouraged by Legolas' faint movement, Neila grunted triumphantly and continued to fervently lick the elf's face.  Aragorn tried but failed to move beside the horse, and then in a farcical sort of tug-of-war, Aragorn continued to push the horse aside so that he could get a better look at Legolas only to be nudged aside himself by a powerful snout or sinewy leg.  Seemingly unaware of the conflict above him, Legolas continued to stir and groan as Aragorn and Neila fought for the so far non-existent attention of the elf. Finally, after much grunting and cursing from human and horse alike, Legolas' eyes fluttered open just as Aragorn received an especially powerful shove from the horse causing him to tumble out of the elf's sight.

"Wha…" Legolas stuttered hoarsely, but he clamped his mouth and eyes shut as the horse resumed its affectionate licking and nudging.

"Good morning, beautiful," Aragorn muttered dryly as he sat up and again attempted to shove the horse out of the way. Legolas frowned at this greeting for in his muddled, foggy mind, he could not place Aragorn's voice or the rough tongue on his cheek.  The sickening hung-over sensation in his stomach certainly did not help matters either. By the Valar! What situation have I gotten myself into now!  

Aragorn's lips bent into a small smirk when he saw the elf squirm uncomfortably, obviously disoriented and utterly unaware of what had happened, where he was or how he got here and what creature was now lovingly kissing his face.

"It was a beautiful night... Such a shame you were not awake for it…" Aragorn could not help teasing as the horse snorted lightly and moved on to the elf's neck, drenching him in its sticky drool. Legolas' frown deepened as the horse sneezed in his face before moving on to lick and drench his ear in its dribble.

"You certainly did wear yourself out though – slept nearly through the entire day!" Aragorn continued, his grin growing the more Legolas squirmed with uneasiness.

"You never do fail to surprise me Legolas…"

Suddenly, Legolas' eyes snapped open and the elf gasped in surprise at the snout inches away from his face. "A horse!" he yelped causing the horse to jump slightly and sneeze again in response, spraying Legolas with more drool.

"Aye! A horse!" the ranger chuckled lightly as he again attempted to push the stubborn animal aside.

"Aragorn?" Legolas closed his eyes again as the horse happily licked his brow and angrily kicked the ranger out of the way.

"No, that's Neila. I'm Aragorn," the human could not resist joking.

Legolas furrowed his brows and turned his head towards the ranger, cringing as the horse again drenched him in slobber. "Is there someone else here?" he asked when Aragorn's joke did not quite register properly in his baffled mind. Neila, neila… Is that one of Father's guards? Ai! I would not mind just going back to sleep!

"Aye, there's the horse…" Aragorn answered wryly.

Legolas grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut again. His head ached and spun wildly preventing him from making any sense of anything or even wanting to try.

"Then why do you tell me you are Aragorn? I know you are Aragorn." Legolas frowned and swatted at the irksome snout. "Ah yes, and this is Neila… Aragorn, why must you confuse me like that? Are all humans so insipid that…" Before Legolas could continue with his irritated rant, pain ripped through his shoulder. "Ai Valar!" he finally cried in hopeless frustration.

"Peace Legolas!" Aragorn breathed as his grin evaporated and he finally succeeded in pushing aside the horse to get a better position beside the elf. "It is only Neila and I that are here right now. Do you not remember anything?" he asked gently as he carefully adjusted the makeshift sling around Legolas' shoulder.

When only a groan answered him, Aragorn frowned and again ran his hand over the elf's cheek and forehead.

"Do not strain yourself Legolas. You are injured rather badly, but it is nothing that will not heal. We are beside a lake now, at the bottom of this cliff. Remember? We were lost… we were searching for Bratherond… and the fire…"

"Aye, I do remember, though I almost wish I did not…" Legolas caught his breath and opened his bright eyes, staring straight into Aragorn's own gray orbs.  "We are lost now Aragorn aren't we?" This was not so much a question as a forlorn declaration.

Aragorn sighed and leaned back on his heels. "Aye, though not as bad as I thought we were. I can at least tell which way is east now," he muttered as he eyed the late afternoon sun's murky glow above them.

"But we are separated from the others," Legolas stated flatly. "We do not know where they are."  Aragorn detected the worry that tinged the elf's soft whisper and he gripped his hand in response.

"I am sure they are fine Legolas. They would have escaped the fire."

"And the Orcs?" Legolas hissed, turning his fair head away from the ranger's eyes.

"And the Orcs…"

"And the storm, and this labyrinth, and the Nazgul, and this entire cursed, decrepit forest?" Legolas' voice rose in its frustration and doubt though he again had to stop as a bolt of searing pain burned his ribs.

"Legolas, peace…" Aragorn ordered as he steadied the elf by lightly grabbing his shoulders and pushing him towards the ground.

Legolas sighed angrily and struggled to lift himself.  Knowing he would refuse any instruction to remain still, Aragorn helped the elf to a sitting position.  After much fidgeting, Legolas finally situated himself in a somewhat painless position and he focused his clear eyes on their dreary surroundings. His listless gaze revealed no emotion until the horse shoved its snout in his face again suddenly reminding the elf of its presence.

"Aragorn! How on Middle Earth did Neila get here?" Legolas demanded as he pushed the snout out of his face.  Aragorn grimaced and motioned towards the hill, garnering no response from Legolas as he languidly laid his eyes on the gentle slope.  

"Ah, why does that not surprise me," he grumbled as he unconsciously rubbed his sore shoulder.

Aragorn sighed and turned his gaze from the hill to Legolas. The elf remained impassive as he scanned the hill and rested his gaze on the blackened remains of the forest at its peak.

"That fire certainly did some damage last night," Aragorn said as he tried to read Legolas' stoic expression.

Legolas narrowed his eyes and at first did not respond to Aragorn as he mulled his words in his gradually clearing mind. Then as a shadow crossed over his features, he responded in a dark voice, uncharacteristic of the lighthearted elf Aragorn had first met in the outskirts of Thranduil's realm what seemed like ages ago, but in fact was only a little more than a week and a half ago.

"The trees look better this way."

Aragorn started slightly and peered closely at Legolas, as if trying to determine if it was in fact Legolas who spoke these words and not some other spirit that had taken over the form of Legolas. "You do not mean that…"

"Of course I do Aragorn. I would like to see this entire forest burn." Legolas' sharp eyes softened when they rested on Aragorn. With a small sigh, his gaze shifted from the concerned face of the ranger to the trees that had escaped the fire's wrath only to remain the gnarled monsters they had already grown into.

"And then perhaps it can be reborn," he whispered.

Aragorn leaned back again on his heels and studied the elf.  The words were desperate, but they were not without hope.  Legolas after all had grown up in a world that was slowly slipping away, but in a reality that only hinted at its demise. Though no stranger to pain and loss, only now that he traveled into the gaping depths of the shadow's hold, could he even begin to fathom the magnitude of what they were up against. The bitter taste of reality now forced Legolas to accept that it would take no small sacrifice to win back Greenwood. When faced with such foreboding darkness, many find they have not the strength to fight it, to make the ultimate sacrifice if called upon to do so.  Given the choice, Legolas would stay and with his own flaming arrows light the fire to his home if that is what it took to purge it of the suffocating evil, instead of leaving these woods to slowly wither away. And even after the fire, Legolas would wait for the day the smoke cleared and green saplings sprouted through the ashes.  Few would make such a choice. Few had the strength.

"What do we do now, Aragorn?" Legolas interrupted the ranger's thoughts.

Aragorn pursed his lips and stood, pensively stroking the horse's mane.

"Can we drink that water?" he asked in return.

Legolas frowned and gazed at the thick, black ooze that supposedly was a lake. "Nay, it is poison. We cannot drink any of the water in these parts of Mirkwood."

Aragorn sighed and rummaged through the pack that had been tied to Neila's back. "That is what I thought. We are lucky Neila found us since she was carrying at least this one canteen. I believe both of ours are nearly empty." Aragorn paused and watched as Legolas shook his canteen with a faint sense of bewilderment and wonder glowing in his eyes.  He had seen this same expression on his brothers' faces whenever they were faced with a dire situation that resulted not from some sensational battle, but something much more dull and tedious such as lack of food. He even had a name for it – the "I forgot we could die of such trite, common annoyances" look.  Mentally, he noted the stages of this young elven shock – first the bewildered realization. Then denial.

"Aragorn, there is plenty of water in here – surely it could last us many weeks. This should be the least of our concerns!"

Aragorn sighed. Legolas may have been a dangerous warrior both in his physical ability and mental acuteness, but it was only natural for a young elf who had not yet the experience of older warriors to take for granted the basic necessities of life that even immortals could not live without. "It will last us a couple of days at best Legolas."

Then condescension.

"Well, perhaps humans need more water then, for I find it hard to believe an elf could not make this last for at least a month."

Aragorn rolled his eyes – he could practically mouth these words as Legolas spoke them, so accustomed he was to such haughty remarks during stage three of this elven realization of lack of invincibility. "Then make it last for a month Legolas. For it may just take us that long to reach the Celduin"

Legolas froze and gaped at Aragorn. "We are to go east then?"

Aragorn carefully studied the horizon and noted the different ways in which they could travel around the lake before answering, "Aye, we will go east."

Legolas put down his canteen and continued to gape at Aragorn. "But what about the rest of them? Should we not look for them? We will just leave them!?"

Aragorn gazed grimly at Legolas. "Gandalf would have wanted us to continue east. In fact, he will expect us to. I would not be surprised if he led the others straight to Dol Guldur. If he comes to search for us, he will search to the east, Legolas, not where we came from. It is our best hope."

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him and he gazed blankly at the lake and the forest beyond it. "But to not even try to find them…"

"Legolas, we will not find them. We could not find Bratherond when he could not have wandered more than half a league away from us! They are long gone now mellonin and we have barely enough water to sustain us should we lose ourselves completely in our search. We have no other choice. We must make to the Celduin."

A gleam of remembrance lit Legolas' eyes when Aragorn mentioned Bratherond. "Do you think the others ever found him Aragorn?" he murmured softly.

Aragorn looked down. The same thought had crossed his own mind – no one, not even Bratherond, could possibly survive very long by himself in Mirkwood. "We can only hope they did, Legolas," he finally answered.  Though he was not exactly fond of the surly elf, he hated to think of the terrible fate that awaited him should he remain lost in Mirkwood.

The two fell silent, lost in their own swirling thoughts. "Cièdron would have searched for me," Legolas whispered to himself, though Aragorn heard the words clearly.

"And Gandalf would have held him back," Aragorn reassured the elf.

Legolas closed his eyes and murmured what sounded like an elvish prayer. When he opened them again, he stared determinedly at Aragorn. "We will go east then."

Aragorn nodded and placed a firm hand on Legolas' shoulder. He frowned when the elf could not hold his gaze, dropping his blue eyes to the ground instead.  "Legolas?" Aragorn placed his other hand on his shoulder and tried to get the elf's attention, but instead Legolas slackened and again squeezed his eyes shut.

"Legolas!" Aragorn said more firmly this time as he lightly shook his shoulders.

"Ai, forgive me Aragorn," Legolas finally sighed. "I just wish I could somehow know they are ok."

Aragorn paused before answering, waiting patiently for Legolas to meet his gaze. When the elf finally did look up again, Aragorn slowly stood and pulled Legolas up with him.

"Do you really doubt their abilities so much Legolas?" Aragorn asked as he supported Legolas and motioned for the horse to come to their side.

"Nay Aragorn, I just…"

"Then do not assume the worst when the worst is not even likely to have occurred." Aragorn continued as he indicated for Legolas to mount the horse.

Legolas paused and looked dolefully at Neila. With a sinking heart, Aragorn realized his tactlessness – with his injuries, Legolas would have a difficult time mounting Neila, if he could at all, yet to put the elf in a position where he might have to admit this no doubt stung his pride.  But before Legolas had a chance to swallow his pride and ask for assistance, Neila lowered herself to her knees causing Aragorn to smirk and Legolas' lips to twitch with amusement.

"Well, if you insist, Neila, how could I possibly say no?" Legolas chuckled as he gingerly climbed on to the horse's back.                             

When Neila carefully resumed her full stance with Legolas steadily balanced on her back, Aragorn led the way around the simmering lake's borders, eyeing its festering surface with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity.  Legolas shifted uneasily as he too noted the churning, inky waters. Again he rubbed his useless shoulder and apprehensively fingered his knife.

"I think Mirkwood purposely hid that hill from us Aragorn," Legolas murmured as he nervously directed Neila away from the lapping shore.

Aragorn's features hardened as he too stepped away from the sinister ripples drawing lines on the beige, sandy shore.

"Aye. I wonder what else she is hiding from us."

* * *

"Why must you go?"

"Cièdron, please, you must forgive me…"

Legolas sat quietly in his father's throne and watched his brother anxiously pace the room in great distress.  Beside him, a woman with an uncanny resemblance to the tall, willowy birch at her side stood as still and observant as a young deer watching for predators. Vivid gray-blue eyes followed Cièdron as he marched across the room, wrenching his hands then running them through his long silky hair, and then throwing them up in grief and frustration. Her own hands, adorned with delicate jewels and golden bands, were folded calmly in front of her.  Sorrow clouded her features and dimmed the light that her kind typically exuded.

She was thin. Nay, not just thin – frail like a porcelain skeleton draped with a pale sheet of skin.  Legolas feared that if he were to reach out to touch her, she would collapse into a pile of dust so tiny and fragile her bones seemed. As he glanced at her slender hands, Legolas also noticed how each ring had been moved to a different finger – the gold band embedded with rubies that she had normally worn on her index finger, she now wore on her thumb and what was on her ring finger had been moved to her index finger. One ring, which he supposed no longer fit even on her thumb, she had placed on a thin gold chain around her swan-like neck. Legolas would not be surprised if she collapsed from the weight of that ring.  Cièdron had not noticed the rings and would have to strain his mind to remember them when Legolas told him about it later that day. "I was too busy focusing on my own distress to even notice that my mother was wasting away!" he lamented when Legolas described them to him.

Galeraen still did not move as her second youngest continued to pace and tremble.

"Forgive you… Ai! I would that you stayed instead!" Cièdron cried desperately. "What are we to do? For us all to be separated like this… Is it not enough that two of us must leave for Mandos' Halls? And now you and Eilesiá will leave as well? Why can we not all remain together?"

Galeraen stiffened at this and her eyes despondently dropped to the floor. Upon seeing how his words stung his mother, Cièdron collapsed to his knees and dropped his head in his hands and the majestic throne room fell silent. Legolas straightened in his father's throne and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of his brother and mother sinking into despair, yet still he remained silent for his own grief strangled his voice.

As softly as a leaf floating on water, Galeraen walked over to Cièdron and gently lifted his chin with her gaunt, cold hand. Cièdron shuddered slightly. His mother's hands were always so warm and soft and the sudden iciness surprised him.  He cursed himself at that moment for being so cruel to her. 'She is dying,' he thought. 'And I am only making it harder for her.'

"Nana, I am sorry… it's just…that we must stay here without you…"

"Shh… Peace Cièdron," Galeraen whispered gently as she cupped his cheek and gently wiped away the tears with her thumb.  "No one is forcing you to stay."

Cièdron and Legolas froze at these words.  They had both just assumed their parents had expected them to stay as their duty to their father and Greenwood, as the only children left of King Thranduil. The idea that they too could leave with the rest of their kin had never even crossed their minds and now the invitation lay before them like a locked door that now opened wide to a peaceful, glowing land.

Cièdron could barely find his voice after this revelation. "We could go with you? But Ada…"

"Your father would understand Cièdron." Galeraen's voice was as melodious and soothing to Cièdron as the sea itself and he immediately became entranced in the implicit beckon to sail away from Mirkwood.  They had a chance to leave this forest! They could leave with their mother and escape this evil!  

Legolas gaped at his mother and brother. "You are not seriously considering this Cièdron, are you?!" he finally spoke, breaking the spell his mother had laid upon her son.

Cièdron's attention snapped to his brother. "But Legolas, what have we left here?"

"We have Ada! We have Greenwood!" Legolas cried in disbelief.

"She is not Greenwood anymore Legolas! She never will be!"

"You do not know that!"

Galeraen straightened and squeezed Cièdron's shoulder. "My sons! Please, do not fight… not now, not on this day… I will not tell you that I prefer you to stay or sail with me, only that the option is yours and neither your father nor I will hold whatever decision you make against you." Galeraen let go of Cièdron and moved gracefully to her other son.

Legolas avoided her eyes until he felt her icy hand upon his chin. Startled, he instinctively laid his own hand upon it and squeezed it tightly as if he could somehow transfer the warmth of his own body to the cold, fragile remains of his mother.

"Nana, your hands are so cold!" Legolas' voice broke as he said this as emotions came crashing over him like a tidal wave in the wake of his mother's dry, empty stare.

Galeraen smiled at her youngest son's attempts to warm her chilled hand and she laid her other hand on top of his to stop him. Tears welled in her eyes, but did not fall, when instead of giving up, Legolas laid his other hand on top of hers and desperately tried to rub some warmth into it before  holding it up to his cheek, where his own hot tears finally warmed those lifeless fingers and palm.

"Legolas promise me you will not judge me so harshly. I am weak, my son, I know…"

"No… no, Nana, you are not…"

"I am Legolas. I am too weak for this world. I cannot live here any longer." 

"You should not have to stay here… you deserve better Nana…"

"I do not know what I deserve Legolas." Galeraen pulled away her hands and stared listlessly at what was left of them. She then laid them again on her son's shoulders and affectionately straightened his collar and wiped off specks of dirt that only a mother could see. "You have your grandfather's spirit Legolas," she finally whispered. "I know you will not come with me. I never expected that you would."

Galeraen backed away from Legolas just as Thranduil entered the room "Galeraen, it is time," he declared softly as his intense gaze fell upon each of his sons. Behind Thranduil, a tiny girl with eyes so dull and mournful she seemed more of an apparition than a real being, seemed to float into the room. Legolas' gazed sadly at what remained of his older sister.

Cièdron slowly stood. "You will stay then Legolas?"

                                             

Thranduil stiffened at this question. Though he knew his sons would have to make this decision, he had secretly hoped perhaps they would not even think of it. The king's heart skipped a beat when Legolas finally answered.

"Aye, Cièdron. I will not leave," the king's youngest son said softly, his eyes never leaving his sister. Cièdron followed his brother's gaze and for the first time in months, he noticed a soft glimmer in his sister's eyes as Legolas answered.

Cièdron's gaze lingered on Eilesiá for a moment before moving to his father and his mother.  His heart ripped at the sight of both of them. Such a choice lay before him now! How could he choose between going with his mother and staying with his father? His siblings in Valinor and his brother that would remain here, in Mirkwood?  He then looked again at Legolas, who sat tall and proud in his father's chair, appearing every bit the noble prince, yet all the same so young…. 'He would be so alone,' Ciedron thought and a flash of pain stung his heart when he noted the tears rolling down his brother's cheeks.

"I will stay too then," Cièdron finally declared.

Galeraen smiled faintly at her son's decision and Thranduil stiffly nodded his head. For the last time, the five of them stood in the pale, warm glow of Thranduil's hall.  Though Galeraen and Eilesiá physically appeared to be at death's door, their eyes both twinkled with pride and even some hope. Thranduil's hall may have only been an illusion of a dream that could not be, but a better world still awaited them and though their hearts bled, they knew they would all meet again soon.

 Later, Thranduil, Cièdron, and Legolas watched as Galeraen and Eilesiá disappeared into the forest with a long line of woodelves, beneath silken banners and mournful songs, lighting the entire wood with their eerie, sorrowful glow. Cièdron would never forget that frosty glow and those chilled hands. Ever since that fateful day, they haunted him in both his conscious and unconscious dreams...

"Cièdron!"

Merionè shook Cièdron's shoulder in an attempt to get the elf's attention.  Cièdron snapped out of his reverie and confusedly looked at Merionè.

"Cièdron! Are you alright?" Merionè asked, his soft, amicable voice laden with concern.

Cièdron blinked a few times before his mind finally adjusted to the sudden disruption of his thoughts. The warm, pale glow of the throne room dissipated into the frigid, dismal fog of Mirkwood and the vivid memory of his mother's musical voice gave way to the rough demands of Bratherond, the worried drone of Merionè, and the distant, sinister howling of wargs and Orcs.

"Aye, I am fine," he mumbled as he shook Merionè's hand from his shoulder.  

Bratherond cleared his throat. "You certainly did not look fine Cièdron… Are you sure you are ok?"

"Aye, I was just thinking," Cièdron whispered.

"Of what?" Merionè instinctively reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder again, but drew it back slowly upon remembering Cièdron's frosty response a moment ago.

"Of my mother."

Bratherond and Merionè both fell silent at this.

"And what she said to me and Legolas before she left," Cièdron continued. He looked up at the black, starving trees around him when suddenly a thought inexplicably entered his shadowed mind, driving out the lingering memories of his mother.

"That fire released them," he stated dully to the bafflement of Bratherond and Merionè.

Merionè raised an eyebrow and followed Cièdron's gaze, "Released who, Cièdron?"

"The trees. Ai! What are we doing? This whole forest should just burn." A strange expression flitted across the elf's features. "Don't you see? It is not us who will ultimately save it, it is the Valar.  They will burn it just like they sent Beleriand below the sea ages ago and then a new world will replace it. Only it will not be our world," Cièdron finally turned and met the alarmed gaze of Merionè. "We do not belong here."

Bratherond gave Merionè a sidelong glance and then rode next to Cièdron. "Cièdron, this is our forest. Of course we belong here. It is not for the Valar to save for it was not they that lived here and cared for this forest. It was not they that ruled over her for thousands of years, who watched these trees grow, who made their home here amongst them!"

Cièdron dropped his eyes. "But we have lost so much…" His voice was barely audible, but it was so laden with despair, neither Bratherond nor Merionè had the heart to respond. Their own stomachs twisted with worry for Legolas and Aragorn and they could not pretend even for Cièdron's sake that that they had not potentially lost as much as Cièdron feared.

And so the three continued in a gloomy silence with no knowledge of the fates of their friends and kin, little hope in their own fates, and with the ever growing doubt that perhaps they did not belong in this world anymore - that perhaps they should have left years ago for the undying lands. 

Not surprisingly, it was Bratherond who brought the other two out of their melancholy trance when a tremor ripped through the trees.

"Did you hear that?" he demanded, his voice scathing and harsh against their solemn thoughts.

Cièdron and Merionè snapped to attention.

"Orcs." Merionè responded bleakly as the three mechanically armed themselves for battle.

The three elves barely had the strength or will to fight and their arms felt as heavy as iron as they languidly unsheathed their weapons. Bratherond gritted his teeth and quickly shut his eyes. When he reopened them, they were filled with the steely determination of one who would keep fighting through fires and storms, night after treacherous night. "Do not give up yet, Cièdron. The Valar are not here now and they cannot save us now."   

The Orcs descended upon them in an ambush.  Bratherond held off the brunt of the onslaught as the other two struggled against their own demons as well as the Orcs.

Cièdron strove to regain his strength, but found it difficult to convince his disheartened mind to react to the battle around him. When Bratherond noted the young elf's listless fighting, he rode to his side and beheaded his attacker as he yelled, "Cièdron! What are you doing?! Will you allow these monsters to overcome you! Will you give in so easily to those that murdered your brothers!"

Though this was not exactly true and both of them knew it, the words had the desired effect and the battle gradually inflamed Cièdron's anger and he thrust his sword into an Orc.  As the Orc reeled from the blow, he sniggered and caught Cièdron's eye.

"So we murdered your brothers, eh? Hehehe… That must have been fun indeed. Better off dead anyway, those fools. Probably did not last long against us! Probably begged us for mercy! Probably offered to turn you in instead, such treacherous creatures you elves are…"

The sniggering ended abruptly as the Orc's head was severed from his body. Cièdron's infamous temper had erupted and he mercilessly tore through the Orcs, ripping and severing already massacred limbs. Bratherond grinned at this as he too brutally pierced and stabbed one Orc after another.

Merionè however could not muster the same deadly strength. Why do you even bother now? his mind taunted against all his efforts. Though he yelled furiously and tore against the Orcs, not one did he kill. Despite his concentration and his anger, his aims always missed, finding arms instead of necks, legs instead of heart. As Bratherond's and Cièdron's  Orcs dropped like flies around them, Merionè's would get right back up and laugh in the elf's face as if they were giants flicking off the attacks of a hobbit. By the Valar! What is wrong with me?!

But despite the renewed efforts of Cièdron and Bratherond, they were also grossly outnumbered, and it was only a matter of time before the weakened elves were overwhelmed by the fierce Orcs.  Taken by surprise, Cièdron was violently knocked to the ground by the hilt of a sword against his head. As he squirmed against the throbbing pain that pounded his skull, the Orc leered mockingly above him.

"Well, well! These have been strange days indeed!" the Orc laughed as he mercilessly kicked Cièdron in the side causing him to gasp in pain. "Another pretty elf!" He snickered some more as he again kicked Cièdron's side and ran his sword against his arm, drawing a deep cut. "Look at what we have here guys! This one looks just like that other!"

Cièdron froze and gaped at the Orc. The Orc found this rather humorous and continued to taunt him. "That's right!  Tell me pretty elf! Do you have an equally pretty twin? Hehehehe… Oh he was a fun one, a fun one indeed…"

"You're lying!" Cièdron yelled furiously as he struggled to swing out against the Orc. "YOU LIE!"  But the Orc only continued to laugh hysterically as he drunkenly kicked him again, relishing the feel of the elf's ribs cracking against his boot.

Cièdron gasped and lurched. "No, no, no…" he repeated through the lump that gathered in his throat as the Orc continued to kick and beat him with the hilt of his sword.

"I treated that one the same as I am treating you now!" the Orc laughed.  "Only I did more! And he screamed even louder! It was wonderful! Hehehe…"

In truth, this Orc had seen Legolas and Aragorn, but beyond that the Orc's tale ceased to be true.  He had been one of the Orcs that chased after Legolas and Aragorn, but he never even got close to laying a finger on either of them. Yet even Orcs are not completely bereft of all intelligence, and upon seeing an elf that resembled Legolas so closely that he had to have been a relative, he immediately took advantage of Cièdron's lack of knowledge about his brother's fate and the love all elves seemed to have for their kin.  This lie was probably the Orc's best weapon against Cièdron.

Merionè meanwhile struggled to calm his own mind and focus on his battle. Why do you fight? Just let them take you…You will be released then…

"No!" he bellowed, but no amount of yelling could guide the elf's swings – it was as if something inside of him held him back and froze his arms when they swung to deliver their mortal blows.

Suddenly Merionè felt the tip of an Orc's sword against his neck. Defeated, he dropped his arms to his side and backed up, but the sword only pressed harder with each step back.  Relishing his victory, the Orc grinned and yelled triumphantly. 

"You fools! You cling to an unraveling rope and fight for an illusion! These woods are no longer yours!"

He then laughed terribly as he contemptuously held Merionè's gaze. "But you are the most foolish and delusional of them all!" the hideous creature whispered so that no one but Merionè could hear. He then leaned in so close Merionè gagged on its pestilent breath.

The Orc stared straight into Merionè's watery azure eyes and began to giggle frightfully as if he had just discovered a forbidden treasure in those two mournful depths.

"Ah, yes, I know you elf." He continued to laugh as he drew his dagger tantalizingly across Merionè's neck.  The Orc stopped at the edge of his throat, and Merionè braced himself as he suddenly felt the sharp tip press into his skin, slowly drawing blood. "You cling to no rope at all, for you have long since cut yours!"

Then, to Merionè's surprise the sword stopped, leaving only a scratch on his neck. The Orc laughed terribly as he lowered his dagger. "I think I'll let you live!"

He then turned to the others who were but seconds away from killing Bratherond and Cièdron. In the Black Speech, he yelled, "Leave them! There is no need for us to kill them!" 

Then he turned back to Merionè and with a wink, the Orc continued in the Black Speech, "They shall find their own doom without us."

Bratherond and Cièdron did not understand the Black Speech and they cringed, thinking it surely must be instructions to behead them. But when the Orcs grudgingly pulled away their swords they reeled in surprise. Bratherond, who had been standing, collapsed to his knees in relieved shock. Cièdron, who had been prone on the ground, raised himself to his knees and writhed in pain as he confusedly watched the Orcs reluctantly follow their captain, who continued to laugh terribly after ruthlessly kicking Merionè in the stomach and knocking him to the ground.

Panting, Bratherond stared in astonishment at Cièdron, and then allowed his gaze to linger on Merionè.  As he grasped his stomach, Merionè slowly rose to his knees and with a face contorted with pain, shock, and downright fear, he avoided Bratherond's questioning eyes. In silence, the three remained as such for several long minutes. The forest watched silently, as if she were actually relishing in the pain and confusion of the elves.  Though grateful to still have their heads attached to their necks, Bratherond and Cièdron were not so naïve to assume this had been a gesture of mercy on the part of the Orcs. Rather, foreboding descended upon them more powerful than ever like a sudden heavy veil. The captain's mocking laughter resonated in their ears and they suddenly felt as helpless and lost as ever, completely at the mercy of what they now fearfully realized was Sauron's forest.  The Orc was right – southern Mirkwood had long since been severed from the elves. They were no longer fighting to protect her. They were fighting to reclaim her. But until they did, they were nothing more than trespassers in an evil realm.

Bratherond gaped at Cièdron and Merionè and finally spoke. "What do you think he said?"

Cièdron grimaced and shook his head unknowingly. "I do not know Bratherond, but I am willing to bet it was not an admission of defeat to us, or a friendly 'welcome to Mirkwood.'" His voice quavered as he fought against the lump in his throat and searing pain in his arm and ribs.  The Orc's words about Legolas echoed in his mind, yet he could not believe it. Or could he? Ai, Valar, please let it be a lie!

Bratherond snorted. "Welcome to Mirkwood indeed," he muttered. "I fear their mercy more than I fear their ruthlessness. For I know these creatures are not capable of mercy and if they let us go now, it is only because they have a much better way to kill us later!"

Stunned, Merionè raised his eyes to Bratherond and Cièdron. "You did not understand what they said?" he breathed in surprise.

Silence ensued for a moment as Bratherond and Cièdron looked confusedly at Merionè.  Bratherond raised his eyebrows and studied Merionè closely, before he replied carefully, "Nay Merionè, we did not hear the Orc captain's words."  He then narrowed his eyes and held Merionè's gaze steadily. "Did you?"

Merionè gaped at Bratherond and opened his mouth to reply, but then changed his mind and returned his gaze to the ground.  Bratherond's eyes widened and in a sudden movement he leapt at Merionè and grabbed the elf's shoulders.

"You understood him! You understood the Black Speech! How?? How did you understand him? What did he say Merionè?!"

Merionè closed his eyes as his mind spun and lurched and nausea overtook him. The Black Speech?! He did not even realize the Orc had switched over from the common tongue to its own black tongue, as he had understood all his words so naturally. Nay, this must be a ruse! This cannot be! Then I have been wrong! Ai, I have been terribly wrong!  Suddenly his thoughts came in the laps of waves and the cries of seagulls.  I was wrong… I was wrong...

"Do not go on," he finally whispered, completely forgetting Bratherond's questions.

"What!?" Bratherond stuttered in surprise.

Suddenly, Merionè's eyes snapped open and he violently shook off Bratherond before jumping to his feet.

"Do not go on!" he cried to the two other elves. "This is a mistake! This was all a terrible mistake! I was wrong! You cannot go on! Leave these woods! Leave and go home to King Thranduil! Tell him the warriors are doomed and have always been doomed! Tell him Sauron will attack! He will attack with forces from the East and if he can he will attack from within through his lies and treachery! Tell him I was wrong!"

Bratherond gaped at Merionè. "By the Valar Merionè! You are not making any sense at all!"

Merionè closed his eyes again as he strove to push out the seagulls and ocean breezes in order to focus his panicking mind. "Tell him Sauron and his followers never truly release their prisoners."

Cièdron remained deathly still and quiet as Bratherond shook his head and repeated, "You are not making sense Merionè... You want to return? So soon? You would give up so easily?"

"Nay! I will not return! I cannot return." Merionè stared sadly at the ground which seemed to switch from dark moss to soft sand. "Forgive me, Bratherond, Prince Cièdron. I have made a terrible mistake. You both must go back. I will go on alone."

"We will not go back!!" Bratherond yelled suddenly as he jumped to his feet. "Have you gone mad, Merionè?! I will not allow you to go on alone and we will not give up so early!"

Merionè gazed fearfully at Bratherond, "Nay, Bratherond you do not understand…."

Bratherond's steely eyes flashed with determination. "What did the Orc say, Merionè?" he demanded.

Merionè paused before answering firmly, "He said we shall find our own doom."

Bratherond considered this for a moment, mulling the words over like an empty threat. "Aye, well, that is perhaps what they would think. They are so confident in their control of Dol Guldur and of our weakness to the Nazgul! Well, we shall prove them wrong. We will go on. We cannot allow such words to frighten us!"

Cièdron, who had been watching the two elves fearfully, finally stirred. "Nay, Bratherond, I do not believe that is what the Orc meant," he murmured as his gaze rested on Merionè.  Bratherond's attention snapped towards Cièdron who with trembling hands, fingered and toyed with Legolas' knife.

"Bratherond is right..." Cièdron whispered shakily. "We will go with you Merionè. You shall not suffer this alone."

Merionè gaped at Cièdron. "No, please, I beg of you…"

"Do not beg anything of me Merionè!" Cièdron bellowed suddenly. He gripped Legolas' knife and raised his head, laying his eyes resolutely on Merionè.  Merionè stiffened as he found himself the object of the gaze not of a frightened, young elf, but of a proud prince who had inherited his father's fortitude and sense of duty. Not knowing what had suddenly come over Cièdron, he staggered slightly in the wake of his order, almost believing for a second it was Thranduil's voice he had heard. "Prince Cièdron, please, this is folly, you do not understand…"

"Haven't I already told you, do not call me 'prince'?" Cièdron scolded quietly as he stood unsteadily and sheathed his brother's knife. "There will be no more discussion of it Merionè. I understand you perfectly."

Cièdron looked straight into Merionè's eyes. "As Bratherond said, we will not give up so easily. They think we will find our own doom? Then so it shall be. We will find it. Mayhap we will find theirs as well."

TBC

Yay! I finally finished! And now to catch up on the million of fanfics that have been updated during this past month of hell, I mean, *ahem*, law school…

Alexa: I'm sorry for the delay! I guess I underestimated the amount of free time I'd have. Yeah, I think it's safe to say those three are in trouble…Thank you so much for the review!

Dot: Thank you so much! I think I was in a weird mood when I was writing all those similes. A little too much wine perhaps?

Ecri: Thank you! I'm glad that chapter worked & had someone's heart beating fast! ;)

Elven Ice Angel: Thank you! I'm never quite sure if I can do angst… I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Fliewatuet: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it so far!          

Gwyn: Errr…. yeah, apparently I was kidding about 2-3 weeks…. (eek)

Hypercaz: Thank you!

IrishQT:  Thanks!

KAKYU33: Yes I hate cliffies also. Well, except when I'm the one writing them.

LOTRFaith: Thank you! I hope you didn't get too impatient…

Nikki: Thank you!

Pernauriel: I am continuing… slowly, yes, but I am…

RainyDayz: "I won't be happy if you don't post soon" *tereza looks guiltily at the calendar & the last update date on her story* Oh my… time certainly does fly… I hope you're not too unhappy with me!

Randomramblings: I like that name… thanks for the review!

Sirithiliel: Thank you!

Smile the Great: awww, Bratherond's not *that* bad…. Ah well, that's ok that you hate him ;) I have to say, it is rather fun throwing Legolas off a cliff.

Snowy1909: Thank you!

Symian: I'm finding it very hard to find nice places to end… I don't think I will in fact until I'm done with this story! And even then it may not be a nice ending…

Tainted Fortune: Thank you!

Thundera Tiger: Thank you! Please, don't apologize! I understand completely as I barely have time anymore even to keep up with my reading, let alone reviewing!  As always, your reviews are a pleasure to read and I appreciate it very much.

Viktoreja Rose:  Umm… did I say 2-3 weeks? Oh hahhaha, silly me… isn't that funny how time just flies by? *tereza slinks carefully away…*

WeasleyTwinsLover: Yes, I hate school as well. Hopefully the first month has not been too bad for you!