Chapter 24

The Children of Ilúvatar

Distant cries disturbed Legolas' already troubled sleep– high pitched howls merged with hollow moans, screeches with sobs, some from his dreams, some not, and all indistinguishable from each other. Though his mind could not immediately comprehend what these cries were, they eventually succeeded in pulling Legolas out of his sleep and into the waking world, like sirens luring him out of the comfort and ignorance of deafness to reality.

"I think, Master Ereb, you ought to pay more heed to your wife's wise words and release Rómen 's 'little prize' or else I too shall have to keep my own little prize..."

Legolas tensed uneasily at these words. What terrible threats were these? The voice was eerily familiar – like an old companion…or enemy….

Reanur.

Legolas's eyes snapped open as he suddenly recognized the voice of this traitor and a flood of memories inundated his mind. But as soon as he bolted upright he was forcefully pushed down. The sudden force against him caused the elf's mind to lurch nauseatingly, and he shut his eyes again against the sudden onslaught of dizziness.

"An even trade. You release my prince, and I will return your daughter."

With a soft groan, Legolas shifted his weight and again tried to lift himself up. "What…what is this?" His soft, hoarse voice barely made its way from his parched throat.

"Keep him down!"

Legolas gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, but again, a forceful shove pressed him down. "Reanur? Reanur, what is this…Who is here?" he demanded, just as his head slammed into the stone slab beneath him.

As he began to drift back into unconsciousness, soft murmuring and the panicked scuffling of feet teased Legolas' ears with indecipherable words and acts. As the whispering and scuffling died away and the competing sirens of silence threatened to seduce Legolas back into his dreams, he finally decided to force his body to wake completely, this time determined to fight any force that dared to press him down again. Against the iron grip of unconsciousness pulling him in, he gradually pried open his eyes. After this tremendous feat was accomplished, he determinedly strove to push himself up, but a hand once again pressed his uninjured shoulder and forced him back down, making a mockery of his determination to remain upright against all forces.

"Shhh…. Be at peace TelerI will not hurt you," a nebulous voice, its unique intonations emanating from a land unknown to Legolas, murmured softly through midnight's thick veil amidst the sudden soft murmurings of the cavern in which he now lay.

Legolas stiffened with surprise at this new voice, having fully expected the other being with him to be Reanur after hearing his voice earlier. Confused, Legolas struggled to focus his blurry vision so he could identify this mysterious caretaker and attempt to locate Reanur. His muddled mind struggled to recall how much time had passed since he heard Reanur's voice. An hour? A day? A minute? Did he ever even actually hear Reanur's voice or perhaps this was all a dream? A frustrated groan escaped Legolas's breath as his eyes finally rested on the strange woman elf kneeling before him, gently wiping his brow. She was not beautiful as other elves were – no glow emanated from her pallid features besides the haunting amber sparks of her wide eyes. Legolas tensed and attempted to move away from her, but a soft hand on his shoulder again held him down.

"Stubborn Teler, will you not give up your fight trying to sit up? Do you not see it is rest you now need?"

Legolas furrowed his brows, but relaxed slightly as something in the elf's soft demeanor succeeded in tentatively gaining his trust. He marveled at her bright, pale hair and unusual yellow dress made of delicate linens, so unlike that of any elf he had seen before. He then quickly lifted his head as another grating voice spoke in a language he did not understand. Again, Legolas noted that this voice also did not belong to Reanur. Perhaps I did only dream that Reanur was here then? With a small gasp, Legolas's bright eyes rested on the same elf he and Aragorn had encountered their first day in the Rhûn – the one who had recognized his race immediately and scoffed cruelly at their plea for water or help. The same elf who later Rómen identified as Ereb. Ereb's eyes rested on Legolas, noting the young prince's recognition of him, but still continuing angrily in his own strange language.

"For innumerable turns of the moon I have wandered these lands, always to the border, but never beyond, for I know my place. I know the decisions those before me have made, I know the fate I have been born into and I do not fight it, I do not try to change it. I do not try to change the past nor do I fight the present or hope for a new future. My life is as it is." Ereb's hands nervously flew about him as he enunciated each sentence, his voice emanating in troughs and peaks.

Legolas narrowed his eyes at this tirade, unsure whether Ereb even realized he could not understand a single word of it. "What is it you speak of, Master Elf of the Rhûn?" Legolas whispered cautiously.

The woman elf remained stoically silent, carefully pressing a steaming cloth to Legolas's forehead as Ereb continued, his eyes shifting from Legolas to her. "He is a fool. He should never have come here. Why should one of the "chosen", one of the "accepted" come here other than to laugh at our fate? Or does he think he can save us? Ah yes, 'save the lost ones, those solitary rebels who know not what they do - show them the way, lead them to grace.' Look what he has done!"

The jingling of ivory jewels dangling from Ereb's belt accompanied his heated diatribe. "They are all fools! Those who call themselves children of Ilúvatar are as foolish as the Easterlings. Fighting, fighting, fighting. And for what? For power, that is what! Power over each other! Power to say 'it was I who chose the right path. It was I who followed the light and found grace as you suffer an ignorant, barbaric existence.'"

Ereb paused and fixed his cold gaze directly at the woman elf. "And that is the greatest mistake of all! The Valar did not choose them – they chose the Valar. And we did not. And there is no more to say of the matter. No one was right, no one was wrong, we simply follow different paths to the same goal – happiness, peace…Only they think happiness and peace can only be achieved with power over each other. Only if everyone is on the same path. That is why they are fools. I only wish to have power over myself. I only judge my own path, my own choices…We are pawns in their game! The madness of it!"

With these words, Ereb fell silent and considered the elf prince before him, who had continued to silently watch and listen to this speech with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. A shudder shook Ereb's body and he glanced nervously around him before leaning in close to the woman elf. "I say we carry him out to the desert now and be done with it. Give Reanur exactly what he demanded and be done with it. Let Reanur take this creature away! Surely he will only kill him later, but what do I care? Then we will leave – you, me and Lyrelle– we will leave this place, leave Rómen, live our lives alone and in peace…We will be outlaws, but we will be free...I have had enough of being enslaved to the whims of these power hungry tyrants! I will not allow us to be pawns!"

Though Legolas still could not understand the speech, his ears immediately picked up Reanur's name. It was not a dream. He must be here. With a start he struggled against the woman to raise himself completely. "Is he here then? Is Reanur here?" his agitated voice interrupted Ereb and caused the latter to release a frustrated sigh and turn away from the prince.

For the last time, the woman pushed Legolas down and ignored his question about Reanur. "We will do no such thing!" she violently hissed to Ereb, continuing the conversation in their strange eastern language. After dropping a stern glance at Legolas, ordering him with her eyes to remain prone, she gracefully rose to her feet and lowered her voice so that it was barely audible against the drips and scuffles of the cave's numerous leaks and rodents. Carefully, she looked pointedly at Ereb and continued so softly even Legolas's keen ears could barely discern her voice. "Yes, we will release him just as Reanur demands. But that does not mean we will release Reanur with him. Reanur will take no one away."

Again Legolas raised his head when he thought he heard Reanur's name, desperately trying to make sense of this scene before him.

Ereb raised his eyebrows and whispered back. "Saving your own child is not enough for you? Will you truly put her life at risk! No! I will not allow our daughter's life to be toyed with! We shall hand him over! Now!"

The woman's eyes flashed defiantly and her lithe body visibly tensed with irritation. "You are the fool then, Ereb! You want power only over yourself? Well enough, but you cannot keep it by disregarding the fates of others. Reanur is the pawn of Rómen who is the pawn of Alatar who is the pawn of Sauron. You let Reanur have his way, then you are letting all above him have their way."

Ereb's eyes darkened. "And is it Sauron you fear? I thought it was the Valar you were enslaved to…" he stated flatly, almost mockingly.

"Nay. It is our own kind I fear," the woman sighed. She then straightened and coldness returned to her flickering eyes as she held Ereb's gaze. "I do not wish to play this game at all, but it seems we have no choice now Ereb. He is the son of Kings. With a flick of my knife against his throat I can start a war to end all wars. Or I can hand him over to one who will do this for me. You may only want power over your own being, but whether you will it or not Ereb, with this prince here, in the palms of your hands, you now have the power over all of these 'fools.' Will you start the war Ereb? Will it be you who galvanizes one King to send his armies into these lands? And then what will happen to your own peace and happiness? Your so-called 'power over your own being?' What power will you have then?"

She bent down again at Legolas' side and ran a hand over the uncomprehending elf's cheek. "We may not be of the Eldar kind, but we need not be as brutish as the dark ones either, Ereb. We are not Morgoth's creatures. We may still retain some will of our own and do what our hearts tell us is right."

Though Ereb frowned, he did not respond to any of this. He mulled over these words for several long moments and finally fell to his knees beside Legolas, dropping his hand carefully on the elf's forehead. "I do not fear the Valar, and you are wrong to fear them, for when have they paid any heed to you?" he whispered.

He then swiftly unsheathed his knife and lightly ran its ice cold blade against the elf prince's throat. "But I do fear war." Legolas' eyes met Ereb's and the two firm, regal gazes hiding parallel paths of pain followed by hundreds of generations behind them, locked in a momentary understanding.

Ereb pressed the knife to Legolas' neck causing the latter to freeze with a well controlled fear, though he made sure never to remove his eyes from Ereb's own chilly green orbs. "Perhaps you are right about this power we now have, though it is my belief war will now happen no matter what we do." As the woman held her breath, Ereb tightened his grip on the knife and his face twisted into a terrible sneer before he brusquely lifted the blade away from Legolas and roughly placed it back in its sheath. With an angry sigh, he turned and hissed softly to the woman. "You are right, Reanur will not have him."

Ereb stood up and walked briskly away from Legolas. "I will make sure of that. War will not start by my hands."

As the two elves continued to speak conspiringly, Legolas's bright eyes leapt from face to face, striving to make sense of the incomprehensible ancient language that flowed gracefully off their tongues, as sweet as a trickling waterfall, as archaic as the ancient Quenyan texts that lined the shelves in his father's library. He shook his head in bewilderment as the sudden sensation that he had somehow fallen out of the Third Age and into those shadowy times before even the First Age sent chills down his spine. He examined the woman elf carefully. "Her hair stole the birch tree's bark and her eyes' borrowed the maple tree's sap. She was both the oldest and youngest elf I had ever seen – a ship waiting to depart, but too frightened to leave the shore and so waiting for the ocean to take her in," he would one day tell his brother.

Cièdron would roll his eyes and smirk at his brother's musical whimsy. "Sometimes you are both the oldest and youngest elf I have ever seen, little brother. Lucky for you, I am always so old even when you are so young."

Legolas shook his head slowly at the memory of Cièdron's words, spoken so long ago, in a context he could not even remember now. How strange they should cross his mind now, even as he merely conjured up his tales of adventure to relate to his brother.

With a small cough, Legolas caught the woman's attention and with a curt nod to Ereb, she quickly kneeled at his side, this time allowing the elf to sit upright.

"We are not so different, you and me, young one," she murmured gently. Legolas' eyes widened in surprise when he realized he could understand these words as the woman had switched to the Common Tongue. "We are both in our own ways trapped. Let us hope we have not yet reached such a hell where those who suffer the same enslavement fight each other. Let us hope we do not forget our common beginnings despite our divergent paths."

Legolas cocked his head curiously and gazed inquisitively at the woman. "Does a mere difference in geography make our paths so divergent?"

A little startled at this strange question, the woman paused and raised a thick, arched eyebrow. "Yes," she answered matter-of-factly. "It does." Leaving no room to argue, and offering no further argument, the elf stiffly resumed her caretaking, and finished bandaging Legolas's shoulder.

"You will not stay here," Ereb suddenly interrupted, also speaking in the recognizable Common Tongue. A strange gleam lit his eyes as he glanced at his companion, finally revealing to Legolas a hint of the emotions that lay under his stoic facade. He then knelt by her side and to Legolas' growing surprise, began patching the torn, bloodied remains of his tunic.

Legolas glanced at the woman who watched Ereb – was she his sister? His lover? With another look at Ereb, he decided on the latter. A small smile tugged at his lips at this silent discovery as he watched her sternly observe Ereb care for him, daring him to say something she disapproved of. Even in these dark times, Legolas could not resist the subtle beauties of elven love and devotion, and to find these forces within these strange, perhaps even threatening elves before him, momentarily lightened his spirit. He then glanced again at Ereb and noted the previous animosity in his tense features had melted away. Legolas shook his head in bewilderment at Ereb. "I do not understand – what is it you speak of? I thought I heard…"

Legolas stopped suddenly as Ereb poured a burning liquid over a wound on his forehead, causing him to catch his breath in pain. "Women have much more sympathy for the enemy's children," he explained, ignoring Legolas' gasp as he carefully patted the wound with a warm cloth. "Lucky for you, she has convinced me not to cut your throat."

This comment caused the woman elf to join them and yank the cloth from her companion. "It is our duty to keep them safe from war, as we are elves not some barbaric Orc race," she said pointedly.

Ereb sighed. "There is no way to keep our children safe from war," he responded softly.

The woman gazed sadly at Legolas. "Then we ought not to have war," she whispered.

Touched by the emotion laced into her voice, Legolas again momentarily forgot where he was and how he had gotten there, and the mystery of these two elves. Suddenly, memories of his own mother gripped his mind – her soft voice warming even the coldest of nights, her gentle hands wiping away his tears and her silky hair in which he would hide from the terrors that taunted and abused their home. For a moment, Legolas could smell the familiar birch and lilac scents of his mother, feel her timeless glow and her infinite heartache that ate at her and finally stole her away from the enchanted woods that considered her one of their own.

Abruptly, Ereb stood. "Enough already. He must go now." He then motioned for Legolas to look behind him where a powerful dark mare stood, shrouded in the cave's dancing shadows. "You will ride her along the river. You can wear this," he said, removing a thick large cloak from his shoulders. "Keep the hood up always – mayhap all who might see you from afar will mistake you for me."

Legolas's eyes widened and he gaped at Ereb. "You would give me your horse! Why! Why are you doing this?"

The elf cocked his head and frowned slightly as he took in the rapid speech of the young prince – clearly he was not completely at ease with the Common Tongue. But it was the woman who finally answered. "We have children too." Legolas noted the pain that strained her voice and filled her eyes.

Ereb pulled Legolas up and though the elf faltered slightly at the lightheadedness that overcame him at the sudden movement, the rest the two elves had allowed him succeeded at least in somewhat abating the multiple pains in his body. Nevertheless, the woman quickly grabbed his arm and steadied him, running a swift hand over his forehead and face to make sure no fever or chill endangered his health. Though her hand neither met fever nor chill, her eyes still revealed deep concern and she quickly grabbed a small goblet as Ereb placed his cloak over Legolas' shoulders, pulling up the hood so that Legolas' face fell into shadow.

"Do not question your benefactors, young prince, just be grateful not all here agree with the likes of Rómen," he said sternly. "She is right – Rómen does not have children. Nor does Sauron or any of the agents he uses, at least not that I know of…I never wished to have any part in these wars, I only wished to live in peace, for my family to live …" As Ereb spoke, his voice grew in frustration and anger, but he was abruptly cut off by his companion who also had grown increasingly tense.

"You are right," she said in her own language. "He must go now." She pursed her lips and then remembering the goblet in her hands, she clumsily handed it to Legolas. "Forgive us for our haste… It is just that… Well, there may not be any more opportunities… Our time runs short…"

This time Legolas lay his own hand on the woman's shoulder and smiled gratefully. "I understand. But, please, I thought I heard Reanur…"

The woman narrowed her eyes and squeezed his wrist, bringing her face within inches of his. "Speak no more of that fiend," she hissed. She then leaned in even closer and brought her voice so low the drips of the cave thundered in comparison. "Your mind is not playing tricks - he is here and he plans on following you out of here."

Legolas stiffened and reflexively reached for his knife – only to realize he had no weapons. As panic washed over him, the woman elf dug her fingernails into his arm and pulled him in until her eyes nearly merged with his own. "He will not follow you, prince." The words barely made it past her gritted teeth and Legolas almost wondered if perhaps this message had been conveyed by her determined eyes, so silently it had been communicated. She then moved away as Ereb shoved a bow, arrows and a knife into his hands.

"I will give you some food as well which you can safely eat when you can no longer see the Rhûn Sea," Ereb's gruff voice boomed after the hushed words of his companion. With a frown, as if disappointed in himself for taking any time at all to show concern for the elf, he took another look at Legolas's shoulder and tightened the bandages around it. He then handed him a small pack filled with food and a canteen filled with water. Legolas gazed curiously at this canteen as it was similar to the strange canteen Ereb had carelessly thrown to Aragorn in the midst of the desert –only this time it had water in it.

Legolas shook his head disbelievingly and grasped the elf's shoulder. "Hannon le, mellonin," he said softly. "If ever you wish to leave here… I will remember you… You will be welcome in my home."

The elf hesitated and then, to Legolas's surprise, smiled tentatively while shaking his head. "I do not belong in your world, Teler. I have not seen your light or followed the summons that have led your people to grace. Our fate is here…" An odd look contorted his features and he hesitatingly placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "When the stars fall from the sky, we will meet again. Until then we must remain under our own stars, our own lights."

Legolas cocked his head and considered this for a moment, his eyes glittering at the elf's words, for they easily could have been spoken by one of the elves of his own kin. "But do you not see? The stars here are the same as those above me. They shine differently, but they are the same."

The elf smiled, this time with more sincerity, and turned away. "Aye, they shine differently," he sighed. He then faced Legolas again and frowned when the latter did not immediately mount the steed. "You must go now Teler!" he said firmly. "You will not be given a second chance!"

The haunted expression returned to Ereb's eyes as he carefully backed away from the prince. Legolas turned to the woman who quickly averted her eyes. With a small bow in gratitude, Legolas turned and carefully mounted the horse. He then gave it a quick Sindarin command, expecting it to fly out of the cave and into the empty desert from which he came. But instead of listening to the elegant elvish commands the horse snorted contemptuously and remained perfectly still. Taken aback that a horse would pay no heed to his commands (after all was it not a gift of elves that they had the ability to command the attention of even the most hotheaded mares?), Legolas furrowed his brows and repeated his command while giving the stubborn creature a soft nudge with his foot. When the horse merely stamped its hoof in response, Legolas looked up at Ereb, his eyes betraying his confusion at this strange reaction from the horse. "This is a rather peculiar horse you have Master Elf of the Rhûn. Is she always so stubborn?"

Ereb, who had been too amused by the horse's devotion to her master to aid Legolas, released a small chuckle at Legolas's question. "She does not know your commands, I am afraid…" Legolas raised an eyebrow and bent in towards the horse's ear, rapidly whispering soothing commands that never failed to tame even the wildest of horses.

But just then, Ereb released a cry in the strange language he spoke earlier and the horse obediently broke into a sprint out of the cave, taking Legolas at least slightly by surprise. A moment later he dove into the night's dark abyss, fleeing the forsaken lands of the Avari under the watchful eyes of the sparkling sky.

Just as Legolas left the cave, a third elf stepped out of a shadowy alcove. The two elves regarded this third one and bowed their heads coldly, but respectfully. Reanur smiled sadly at the two and released a small child who quickly ran into the arms of the woman.

With a small cry, she fell to her knees, tightly embracing the white-haired child.

"Hannon le," he whispered as he sheathed a long dagger. "I will leave you in peace now...It took rather long for you to let him go – my mind wonders what it was you were speaking of for all that time. A shame I never could pick up on that strange language of yours… " Reanur muttered, as he casually turned away. "Should we ever meet again, you shall teach me some of it…"

Ereb eyed Reanur closely, his intense green eyes poring into his soul with a thousand daggers. "You will be leaving no one," he growled softly.

Reanur started and turned nervously. "Ah, but I must go to Thranduil…as Rómen ordered… you heard him….and now, with these changed circumstances.. I ought to watch over the prince also…as he returns…"

Ereb's eyes flashed dangerously as his hands carefully wrapped around the knife at his side. "I believe Rómen only wished for you to bring the prince's cape, not the prince himself –that agreement has clearly been breached…"

Reanur's eyes widened and he too grasped the knife at his side. "Rómen will kill me if he finds me here and the prince gone."

"And if you go, you will kill the prince and Rómen will still kill us. I have no desire that you be the only one to survive this ridiculous game."

Reanur opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden, scorching headache ripped through his brain causing him to drop his knife and double over with a desperate scream.

Ereb's eyes widened and the woman nervously pulled her child closer. "Ereb, he is mad!" she murmured in fear.

Slowly, Ereb walked up to Reanur and stood ominously over him.

"It returns! Ai! Ai! It returns!" Reanur cried as he writhed pathetically within Ereb's looming shadow.

Suddenly Reanur reached out and tugged desperately at Ereb's tunic. "You do not understand - it is he that forces me to do these deeds! It is he that guides my hand and poisons my mind!" Reanur frightfully sputtered. "You must forgive me my deeds, Master Ereb! You must! I know not what I do, but you must forgive me for I am fighting! I am fighting to do right against these voices…You see, I helped the prince – I kept him from Rómen , I saved him! And now I must go back – I must – it is the only way I can be saved. Thranduil….nay….Mithrandir, yes Mithrandir can save me! If I could hold out until then…hold out and ensure Legolas reaches…."

"ENOUGH!" Ereb angrily grabbed Reanur's collar and swiftly pulled him up with a jolt.

"I watched as Rómen cruelly brought down your own people one by one. I watched and did nothing. I watched as you and the others fell into darkness, betraying your own and I did nothing. Yes, you did help your prince, but I gather from your display here, you would not be willing to help him for long," Ereb hissed, his own face inches from Reanur's. "This game has gone too far. I do not care anymore whose bidding you do. I do not care about the voices in your head and I do not believe you when you say you can fight them. Nor do I believe this Mithrandir you speak of can do any good – I have seen what 'good' the Istari are capable of."

Ereb pulled Reanur closer and continued, "You demanded release of your prince – you received it. And now I demand that you let him live. He will not be used as Rómen's tool. I will make sure of that."

"Then you will help my people?" Reanur whispered as his body's violent trembling subsided slightly.

Ereb narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on Reanur's collar. "Yes. I will help your people."

Reanur's lip trembled and he gazed fearfully at Ereb. "How?" he breathed nervously.

With a smirk, Ereb slowly raised his dagger. "Tell me, Reanur, how do you bring down the perpetrator of such cruelty?" he asked, basking in this opportunity to turn Rómen's cruel and humorless riddle against him.

Reanur's eyes widened and with a gulp he fell limp in Ereb's grip. "Yes, I do deserve this," he whispered as he then closed his eyes against another searing headache. Forgive me Thranduil.

"You bring down his agents…"

I only ever wanted to serve you.

"One …"

Alas how fate had me carve my own doom.

"by…"

May Vána still pass my grave…

"One."

With one swift stab, Reanur fell limply to the ground in a growing pool of blood. Ereb then turned to the woman elf who hugged the girl close to her chest, shielding her from the gruesome sight.

"I fear the Teler will not be the only one in hiding this night. Mayhap your Valar will have mercy on us." Ereb quickly sheathed his knife and walked over to the other two. "Our time has finally come. Let us leave this world now, and escape these wars before they start."

TBC

I just want to give a quick thanks to the reviewers – I really, really did not expect a single one, so even just getting a few made my day and inspired me to press on. Dot, I do remember you! How wonderful it is to see you're still around! Thanks!