Disclaimer: I love elves, oh yes I do! Hobbits, dwarves, and wizards too! But everyone knows they're Tolkien's. (I think)
AN: Sigh. My updating skills are highly awful. I do believe the word you'll hear most out of me is 'sorry'. I've heard a rumor that is kicking people off for doing review replies. Is that true? Bit lighter chappy, but still provoking. (I hope) Enjoy!
Observation: Ok, has anyone besides me noticed that Legolas never sits? You see him sitting in the Council of Elrond, in the Lothlorien boats, and on a horse (if you can call that sitting). Other that that, he's always standing up. Always! Sorry, it just struck me, and it's been bugging me. Thought ya'll should know, though I'm not sure why you'd care.
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"Ada, is something wrong?"
"Hush!" Elrohir admonished. "I don't know if I could stand any more bad news." He dropped a bunch of scrolls on a chair and left—presumably back to the library.
Elrond turned from the window, smiling at his foster son. It still tickled him to hear a young human call him Ada. But the smile quickly disappeared. "I am worried. I think, that hope is finally beginning to run out."
"That's not true!" Estel shot back. "We—"
"Have been doing a wonderful job. But I believe that we have done all we can. There is no noticeable similarities in the elves that survived, save one. They all responded clearly within 32 hours of the collapse."
The master or Imladris sat down slowly, eyes never leaving Estel's grey. "What I mean is, it has been nearly four days since the wound was inflicted, and 12 hours since the poison began to take effect. In that amount of time, one sentence had been spoken, and it was not clear whether he knew what was going on around him or not. If something drastic does not take place within the next 20 hours, we must be prepared for the worst."
Estel almost expected a roll of thunder to follow his father's words. But though clouds covered the sky, and whispers of the mourning trees filled the air, a thunderstorm would be long in the making.
Elrond sighed inwardly, wishing there was some way to soften the news. But he did not believe in giving false hope. If the worst did come to pass, the longer and harder the fall would be.
He dreaded telling the twins.
Estel sighed and got up to make his way to the kitchens, he always liked a small slice of cake when he was down. Pausing at the door, he remarked thoughtfully, "It seems strange—both twins are home and there has not been one single prank. Not that I miss it, but still…"
Elrond laughed gently. "It certainly is a break not to stretch my vocal cords. However, something normal would raise our spirits I suppose. And we need to keep them as high as possible. By the way, do not ever tell either of them that I almost wish they would get into trouble. I would most sincerely regret it."
Estel nodded, opened the door and stepped out. Heading for the kitchens, mind already looking forward to the comfort of chocolate, he completely failed to notice Elladan hidden in a nook, arms full of papers, a devilish smile upon his features.
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The Noldor looked up at the clock suspiciously. His sons had been missing for quite sometime. Nearly three hours to be exact. Long experience told him that was a thing to be feared.
Glancing at the bed quickly, (no improvement) he got up and moved cautiously to the door. It was securely shut, nothing balanced on top. Moving with the exceptional grace and speed of his kind, he threw open the door and darted out, diving in a roll and coming up against the far wall.
A passing servant looked surprised, but only briefly, the expression quickly changing to one of ill-concealed pity. Elrond knew it was pointless to interrogate the maid, but fell in step beside her all the same.
Coming close to the end of the hall, the maid entered a room to the left. Elrond continued toward the large deep fountain feeling slightly better. I am probably just being paranoid. If something has not happened yet, it probably never will. They may have lost track of time, or found some particular item of interest.
Letting up his guard, he walked faster, ignoring (or most likely unaware) of the things his brain was shouting out at him. You know better than that, that's just what they want you to think!
Halted by sudden misgivings, he turned back the way he had come, searching for signs of sneaking twins. And there was where he made the biggest mistake of all.
He took a single step backwards, intending to continue on his way. His foot entangled in the slim, almost-invisible mat of fishing line. The lines on either side tightened, effectively flinging him up and backwards.
He landed in the fountain with a mammoth splash. Water sprayed everywhere, and to the gleeful pairs of eyes watching in the dark, it appeared that a large dark sea monster from the legends had surfaced.
Elrond wiped his eyes furiously and grasped for the edge of the fountain. His reaching fingers tripped another wire, and quite suddenly, the fountain, himself, and the immediate area was covered in flour.
A pair of giggling elves collapsed out of the shadows.
"Did you see his face, 'Ro?"
"Aye, I think we scared him this time brother."
Elrond stuck a finger into his mouth and wiped out some sodden flour paste. A crash to his left brought his attention to his foster son, plate, cake and fork at the boy's feet in pieces. The look of surprise was fast changing to one of delight.
Elrond quickly snatched the twins and turned, depositing them into the fountain. As they surfaced, still giggling, he told them that they would clean it up, not one of the servants. And then they were to meet him in his study in three hours time.
He called Estel to go into the prince's room and keep watch while he took a quick bath. As he strode down the hallway, he could not help but let a small grin take his face. He was most careful not to let anyone see.
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At about the same time the master of Imladris was flying through the air, Legolas shuddered slightly and turned to the right, his first movement in more than 12 hours. He did not wake. And his dreams, if that's what they truly were, became more vivid.
The mist parted to reveal an elf chained roughly to a tree, one of the few in the high passes of the Misty Mountains. Stretched out before him was a small orcan camp. If you could call it a camp, the elf thought dejectedly.
A place with rotting meat and the even greater stench of orcs sprawled out, snoring, dribbling and spitting does not make for a fine campingsite.
The elf turned his gaze toward the East. He worried for his kindred. Not for himself, not even with more cuts and bruises than ever, and several broken ribs, but for his homeland. They were in great danger, and they did not even know it. How could they protect themselves against such odds if they had no warnings?
Even the skilled warriors, though brave and dangerous, would not be able to hold off this army.
A large orc rose and walked/limped over to the elf, who noted with a small pang of satisfaction that the wound he had inflicted several days before had become infected. But on the outside, he was careful to keep his face blank. Experience at the hands of these creatures had taught him much. They would not hesitate to wipe the smile from his face.
"You. Look at me, you filthy pointy-ear."
The Mirkwood elf did so, thinking inwardly and indignantly, Calls me filthy! Look at him, with his oozing sores, skin that has not been washed in months, breath so awful it would fell a deer at fifty yards!
"That's right. Now. Are you going to be a good prisoner and tell me 'ow to get past those guards of the palace?"
The warrior remained silent, as he had so many times before, knowing what would come next, willing to endure if only to prevent the destruction of his people.
The orc scowled and reached for a many-pronged whip.
The pass echoed only once with a scream. The elf sagged against his chain, no longer able to hold up his head. Through his darkening vision, he saw his life-blood slowly darken the ground around him.
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Elrond pulled on a comfortable robe and exited his quarters. He headed toward the little room at the end of the hall. His thoughts and worries, which had dissolved with the comfort of a bath, began to trickle back.
He opened the door and was nearly bowled over by Estel. "Ada, oh good, you're here, come, I'm not sure what happened, well actually I am but—"
"Hush!" Elrond had caught sight of Legolas, blood slowly darkening the bandages on his side.
The healer moved forward quickly and began to undo the cloths. "Can you tell me what happened? Slowly? And intelligibly?"
Estel nodded, took a breath and began, knowing how important it was for him to get the facts straight. "It did not happen long ago, barely ten minutes. I was eating a replacement slice of cake that I made Elrohir go and get for me.
"I do not know whether he was dreaming or sinking into delirium, but he began to shake as if with fever. He cried out in his own tongue, but I could not understand, he spoke too fast and low. He twisted over and I had to pin him down, I was scared he might fall. Ada, he's very strong, he almost threw me off. I think he thought I was an enemy.
"But then he stopped and seemed to become more aware of his surroundings. He did not exactly wake, or speak, but calmed and hissed something between his teeth. Something about Mirkwood… and blood."
Elrond finished cleaning the wound as Estel finished the story. "Strange… hand me that needle please, this needs to be stitched."
Something Estel had said penetrated through to Elrond's busy mind. Mirkwood… The elf he had sent, Iladri'on, should have already been there by now. That meant the king would be riding flat out to reach his son. How would he react to bad news? Would the king's joy turn into grief again? Elrond did not fancy telling the hot-tempered elf-king.
Estel was silent as his father worked, rubbing his arm where Legolas had grasped it hard enough to bruise during the incident. Thoughts whirled through his mind. It was all very strange…
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Iladri'on came back to consciousness slowly. Disoriented at first, he wondered why he was on the floor, not in bed and a great hulking creature over him. Hold on…
Memories came flooding back, his journey, warnings of the trees, Mirkwood's slaughter. He struggled to move, but his limbs were heavy, and his head ached.
The large figure bent down and swung the elf over it's back like a sack of potatoes. Iladri'on let out a silent gasp as the stench of the creature hit his sensitive nose. But what was it? A troll? But trolls were not bright enough to take Mirkwood by surprise.
Winding through the many passages of the palace, Iladri'on tried to make his cramped muscles do his bidding so he could get out of there, and back to Imladris. He succeeded only in irritating the creature (he could now see it was indeed a troll) and being shaken up and down.
Coming upon a spacious room, the troll dumped him unceremoniously to the floor and left. A hooded figure approached the injured elf. "Why are you here?"
Iladri'on shivered. This person's voice gave him the chills. He nearly backed down before remembering the many bodies that lay outside.
"What have you done? What harm have these people done to you?"
The person laughed, an icy sound with no mirth. "They are but the first. In time, all elves shall fall. My army and myself simply had an extra grudge against the king, so we came here first. Pity the fool's son is dead, I would have enjoyed killing that one."
Iladri'on's breath caught in his throat. Did this person have no idea? What army? How was the prince counted in all this? The questions and thoughts whirling through his mind gave him a pounding headache.
"You did not answer my question. Why have you killed them all?"
The figure had turned to leave. Now, he swung back, a note of reproach in his voice. "Come now, I thought elves were supposed to be smarter than that. Did I say they were dead?"
The half-Noldor's eyes widened. "N-not dead? But they were all—"
"Oh no." Iladri'on was sure that a grin was twisting whatever features this person had. "Compared to what I've done, death would only seem so sweet."
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AN: Sorry, I think this chappy is short…. The plot thickens. Don't kill me if I don't update for a bit, please, I'm going on a canoe trip down the Swanson the 18, 19 and 20. I'll try to get another chappy up before then.
I'm a bit nervous about doing the thanks, but I appreciate them so much, I'd really dislike my self if I didn't.
Deana: thanks!
NuEvil: heh heh, mad love for the cliffies! -pumps fist in air-
Romen: Love tree-talking, don't worry, more will come up soon!
Swasti: Thank, you, thank you very much. They're so much fun!
KerowynGreenleaf: Oo, you torture too? Must go read your stories… Thank you so much!
Kyo's Babe: Ya, Estel is Aragorn. I tend to refer to him a lot like that, but especially in this story 'cause he doesn't know about his past yet.
Darklink231: Torture… heh heh heh… ooo cookie! Yum! I know took me forever for this one too (hangs head)… oh well, better than quitting it right!
Arialas: -cringes- no, not quite out of mind… getting there… lol, out of everybody, you were the most indignant. Don't worry, I have plans for Mirkwood…
Aurehen: I don't mind weird. Hey, you're not weird, you're gifted. Cliffies are me friends… On your last chapter of TMDiaD, great job!
Ireth: well, if you continue reading my things (hint hint) I'm afraid you'll have to get used to them!