Disclaimer:(Cries mightily, but the result remains the same) I do not own Tolkien's universe, and I would much appreciate it if I didn't have to keep saying it. It brings me down from my cinnamon roll buzz.
AN:(Edited 5 April, 2010) Two months? (looks at calendar and dies of shock, therefore disappointing all outraged readers who want to have the pleasure of killing me) I can't believe it's been over two months! I think I need a brain transplant… Ya'll have probably forgotten the chappy before this… I am sooo sorry. Amin hiraetha! (which is of course, 'I'm sorry' in Sindarin). Please read and review… and I'll update faster. I swear!
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Legolas made his way swiftly to the dungeons, moving so fast and carelessly that the twins grew nervous. After all, the palace was now home to a number of orcs and Valar knew what else. It would not do for the prince to be beheaded by a waiting creature simply because he didn't look where he was going. They moved to flank him but found themselves being left behind as he continued, now running full out.
He fell heavily to the ground suddenly as he passed an open hall, and Elrohir stifled a cry before it could escape, fearing that he had been shot. But no, he was back on his feet again in an instant, backtracking to he hallway and ducking inside. They could hear his panicked breathing as he stumbled forward, and fear flooded their hearts. What if this was all a trap? What if they were too late? What would become of Legolas then?
Legolas turned left again and stopped. Here was the entrance to the dungeons. He entered without hesitation, and the twins followed, peering into the doors as they passed. Many of the cells held elves, alive, but unconscious, and they did not pause to see their condition. The main concern was for Thranduil.
Elladan reached the far wall and was about to declare that the king was not in the cells, but a flash of golden hair stopped him and help his firm attention. He knew of only two elves with hair that exact shade, and one of them was desperately searching the other block of cells.
"Thranduil!"
Legolas was at his side in an instant, peering through the gloom to spot the figure lying on the floor. "Ada!" he shouted, finally spotting the limp figure lying against the wall. "Ada, wake up!"
He rattled the door violently, but the heavy wood was firmly latched in place, and his efforts were in vain. Fear washed over him, threatening to overwhelm his senses. His ada was in there, dying. Dying. And all because of him. Tears welled in his clear blue eyes, born of frustration and breath caught in a hitch, and he slammed his fist against the door.
"Move."
The voice was so commanding that Legolas complied immediately, perhaps from habit from his years in the Mirkwood patrols, perhaps because the voice sounded so much like Lord Elrond's. He staggered to the side, suddenly realizing just how futile this whole thing was. He was barely aware of Elrohir gently but firmly grasping his shoulders, steadying him. What had he been thinking? What could three elves do against Lúthien and her magic? She had an army of orcs and several trolls at her disposal; what could they do against that? Why had he insisted on coming here? If his ada was dead, what would happen to him?
Elladan stepped forward and drew his sword. Raising it high, he brought it down with a flash of its treated blade, and the lock fell to the floor. Legolas was at the door immediately, wrenching it open with shaking hands. The wood creaked in protest but gave, and then there were four elves in the cell.
The prince dropped to his knees, breath hitching in his chest. "Ada?" he inquired, voice trembling like a frightened child. He took his father's hands in his own and noticed that they were very cold. "Ada, please, wake up. It's me, Legolas. Ada, please?"
Elladan and Elrohir knelt and watched with bated breath. The wood-elf king looked to be dead already, and only the faint rise and fall of his chest revealed that he was alive. He was pale, nearly translucent in the flickering torchlight. What was not pale was streaked in dirt and dried blood, and the robes were in tatters. His inner light had faded to nothing, and this was perhaps what frightened Legolas the most.
He eased down to sit cross-legged, and gently lifted his father to lie in his lap. His slim fingers combed through the king's lank blonde hair, so similar to his own, as he pleaded for Thranduil to awaken.
In the eyes of the twins, Legolas was a child again, lost in the corridors of Rivendell and calling helplessly for his ada. Gone was the fierce determination that characterized the elf-prince as a warrior, gone was steel will that had conquered a deadly poison. No more did his face harden into a look of a strong spirit. Instead, it was all replaced by a look of such pain that Elrohir had to look away. Legolas looked lost, unsure, something that hadn't graced his features in many centuries.
Elladan scooted over to place a hand on Legolas's shoulder. The prince did not respond, other than a slight shudder that racked his frame.
"Legolas…"
Legolas did not look at Elladan; indeed, it was unclear whether or not the blonde elf had even noticed the elder twin's attempt. "Ada… please wake."
Elladan had never heard so much sorrow in three little words.
Thranduil shifted slightly and Legolas bent his head, whispering so silently that Elladan and Elrohir could not hear. They caught sight of two tears rolling down Legolas's face, leaving glistening tracks through the dust that coated his face.
The elven king brought his arm up with great effort to stroke Legolas's cheek. Tired blue eyes forced themselves to flutter open, focusing hazily upon his sons face. "Ion-nin?"
"Ada!" Legolas exclaimed, heart moving steadily upwards to lodge in his throat. "Ada, stay with me! Don't die, ada, please?"
"Legolas… it cannot be. You are dead."
"No! No, Ada, it was all a misunderstanding! I am right here, I can't be dead!"
The king's hand fluttered dismissively. "Tis but a dream…"
The twins looked on in silence, watching as agony spread across their friend's fair features. They longed to be able to do something, anything, but what happened here was strictly between the king and his son. They would not interfere.
"No, Ada, do not be deceived! I am no dream!" Legolas's hands tightened on his ada's arm. "What would you have me do? I don't know what you found in that forest, but it was not me. I was captured by orcs, not killed. Ada, please believe me. Do not die. Don't leave me like Naneth did, Ada, please!" More tears trickled down his face, but his gaze remained steadily on Thranduil's face.
The gaze that Legolas knew so well flickered uncertainly. Thranduil's grip on Legolas's hands tightened, and one of the shaking hands came up hesitantly to brush Legolas's cheek, hollowed and gaunt from his fight with the poison. "Legolas… Truly? It is you?"
The king did not wait for a response; gathering his remaining strength, he sat up and turned, embracing his 'lost' son.
Legolas returned the hug tenfold, feeling his father's thin frame shudder. "Ada… Valar, I thought we were too late."
Thranduil drew back, but kept both hands on Legolas's shoulder, as if afraid the prince would melt into insubstantial mist, to be nothing but a memory. His gaze fell upon the twins, watching the scene with obvious delight. "Ah. You have brought Lord Elrond's little devils."
"Ada…" Legolas said reproachfully, though happy that his father could jest so soon. "They are not devils! Mischievous little imps from the bowels of the earth perhaps."
Elladan rose swiftly, about to make a remark that would land him in no small amount of trouble, but a shriek from the upper levels silenced him. This was no elven cry of pain. This was orcish in origin, and the creature sounded furious.
"We must go!" Elrohir snapped, dashing to his feet and going to the door to look out warily. "It will do us no good to linger. I do notwant to become trapped down here."
Legolas sprang up at once, eyes dark. "That would definitely notbe good. Ada, you must--- ada?"
For Thranduil made no move to get up. He still sat upon the stone of his cell, watching Legolas with an expression of bewildered joy. His brief attempt at levity had only served to push away his mix of emotions for a brief amount of time. Now they flooded back through his mind at an alarming rate. Confusion: how on Arda had Legolas survived? What of the elven remains they had found? Overwhelming happiness: his only son, back from the grave. And disbelief, even now: feeling so bewildered and amazed as he opened his eyes to see Legolas bending over him, worry and grief lining his features. Worry: he had felt the thinness of his son's body and seen how gaunt his face had appeared. Something dreadful had happened, he knew it. And he got the feeling that whatever it had been, he would not be pleased to learn of it.
And finally, exhaustion. He had been so close to death, and even the sudden repairing of his grieving soul had not given him back any energy. It would be a long while before he was fit enough to go chasing through the long halls of his palace after orcs, though he dearly wished to be a part in the cleansing of his home.
"Legolas, ion-nin,I am not well enough to go. I will stay here."
Thranduil saw the firm jaw come forward, setting obstinately, even before he had finished his sentence. He managed a look, and was vaguely pleased to see that Legolas still assumed the position of a scolded elfing at the mere glimpse of it. "I will not hear of my going with you. I would slow you down, and Valar knows you don't need any distractions. I stay here."
"Legolas!" Elrohir hissed frantically. "They draw near! Hurry!"
The wood-elf prince knelt in front of his father and whispered to him, "Be wary then, ada. The source of all this is Lúthien. I will return shortly."
He gave his ada one last fierce hug and was gone before Thranduil could say anything more. And now a new emotion appeared to plague the tired king: fear. Fear that he would once again have to face the loss of his child.
The shadow nodded happily as it tracked the elves ever deeper into the tunnels. The plan was working out splendidly, and best of all, his quarry had not the slightest idea that he was there.
He had nearly reached his destination, or so he believed, when he heard the shriek of an orc from far above. He quickened his step, determined to find the elves before something else happened. He had been detained by Iladri'on, forced to hide himself and his horse as the messenger sped past with a grim set to his face.
He had regained the distance easily, but had encountered difficulties in getting into the elven complex. It had been a simple matter after that to follow the three elves he sought down through the tunnels.
Whispered shouts reached his sensitive ears, and he swiftly swung into a side passage, unsheathing his dagger and flattening himself against the wall. Soft footsteps came closer and closer to his meager hiding place, and as the first figure raced past, he snapped out a hand and caught the elf by the scruff of the neck. His dagger flashed as it pressed against the elf's throat.
His momentary flash of triumph was stolen as the other two elves came flying around the corner, weapons drawn, having seen their companion be snatched away before their eyes.
The tall blonde elf squinted momentarily as his eyes adapted to the dim light of the tunnel. Then those eyes opened wide, showing disbelief and amazement reflected in the deep blue pools.
The other, a slim dark haired Noldor showed disbelief, but no sign of amazement. Instead, his gray eyes widened in unmatched fury, and Estel began to wonder if his idea of following the elves as they departed from Rivendell had been a good one.
"Estel!" Elladan roared, brandishing his sword. "You little fool! Why on Arda did you follow us?"
"Estel?" Elrohir echoed furiously, twisting away from his younger brother.
The young human flinched, knowing that he would be severely reprimanded later (or else, have the living daylights beat out of him by the twins) but at the moment, he had information that they needed to know.
"Hello everyone," he said, trying his damndest to sound confident. "I would loveto sit down and have a little talk with all of you," (which was a blatant lie), "but I believe that would lead us to be captured by the orcs. Shall we go?"
"I know where youare going," Elladan growled, sheathing his sword and rolling up his sleeves. "You are going—" A rumble from above stopped him in his tracks, saving him once again from saying something he most likely shouldn't.
"Time to go," Legolas observed, and they were off, running as though they were being pursued by a Balrog.
"Legolas!" Estel hissed, though he was risking further wrath of the twins by even speaking. "Did you find your ada?"
Legolas spared a glance at the human as he ducked a low-hanging support. "Yes." he said shortly, and seeing the shock on Estel's face, quickly amended it to, "He is still in the cell. He refused to come along with us."
"Would you two be quiet?" Elrohir snapped. "They won't be able to find us if they can't hear us chattering away like bluebirds!"
They slowed their run to a creep, making their way steadily upward, not allowing a single noise to escape from under their feet. Before long, they were back at their starting point, looking out at the front hall from behind a tapestry. Twas very crowded behind it, and four private opinions quickly rose in saying that they all desperately needed a bath.
A cave troll entered from a doorway on the right, bearing something that looked uncomfortably like a body. Stepping lightly behind it, looking almost unearthly, came Lúthien. Legolas tensed, whether from fear or fury the twins didn't know. Estel of course was clueless, and battled Elrohir in a silent struggle to see better. Elrohir quashed him quickly enough, and Lúthien passed by them unaware.
She wore the robes Legolas had described, green with golden embroidery, and they fitted her figure, but not well. She was too thin and gaunt for the material to hang right, and the result looked was that she looked like a peasant waif dressing up in a queen's robes.
She reached the center of the room and motioned for the troll to lay down the body. She watched impassively as the troll took up its axe and sliced the head from its shoulders.
Behind the tapestry, the four abruptly pressed back against the wall, no longer jockeying for a more secure position behind the cover of the tapestry. Their breath came hard and fast, and they were pressured to keep themselves silent. The cold way Lúthien treated the corpse was sickening. By the time they regained their wits enough to peek back out, Lúthien had drawn a rough circle around her using the blood from the corpse.
She stood calmly in the center and placed two fingers in her mouth, producing a whistle that nearly deafened the quartet behind the tapestry. Orcs began to appear from every direction imaginable. Their stench filled the room much faster than the bodies, and the elves and human quickly revised their private opinions of each other's scent. They smelled like a field of daisies compared to this bunch.
"My loyal followers!" Lúthien cried, stretching her arms to their extent. "We have taken Mirkwood for our own!" Legolas snarled inaudibly, and the twins were quick to place restraining hands on his shoulders. "There remains nothing to stand in our way as we begin to stretch our reach westward. We will march to Rivendell within the hour." Elladan's, Elrohir's, and Estel's rage suddenly grew to match the prince's own. "With us shall come the warriors and kingof Mirkwood. They will be the first to strike. When it is all finished, we will kill the elven king as proof that we will stop at nothing to achieve our goal."
That was simply too much. The orcs cheering was drowned out by a fearsome cry of defiance. Before they could stop him, Legolas tore free of their restraining hands and burst out from behind the tapestry. "You are wrong, sorceress!" he shouted, knives flashing before him. "There is still someone left to oppose you!" And he darted straight into the howling tribe of orcs.