A/N: And here is Chapter 6! This is where things begin to get a bit more interesting...
Hope you are enjoying the ride so far! As always, I love comments!
Legolas wakes to the Song of the Forest pulling insistently at his fae. His chamber is quiet, but outside he can hear the low murmur of voices and shuffle of feet upon stone. With a yawn, he sits up, rubs at his eyes. The glare of the morning light against his eyes turns his chamber white, until he blinks and finds everything settled.
The feast had finished late, well past the 11th hour of night, and Legolas had managed to excuse himself to bed quickly. But even once in his bedchamber, he had found it hard to sleep. The bright lights of the feast still sparkled before his eyes, and Belathon's words rang in his head.
But what is now more pressing on his mind is the note.
As he had been sleepily shrugging out of his clothes the night before, a small scrap of paper had fluttered to the stone floor, bumping against his toe. At first he had thought nothing of it, and had made to throw it away. Yet- something made him look down, realise that there was handwriting upon its creamy surface.
Aeglostor- meet us in the dungeons tomorrow around sun-high. We shall speak further there. B.
Belathon wanted to speak with his brother? Surprise had made his stomach churn, despite the waves of exhaustion pressing down on him. What business did Aeglostor have with Legolas' friend? And in the dungeons of their Halls?
Well, he had thought with a yawn, Belathon had wanted to speak to Aeglostor- and he must have accidentally left the note with Legolas instead of his brother.
For a brief moment, he had considered taking the note straight to his older brother, if only to question him as to what it meant. But then- then he recalled the way Aeglostor had sneered down at him, had dismissed him, and something in him hardened.
I will go, he thinks now as he looks around his room. The light from the window seeps in sluggishly, hardly touching the stone floors, but does little to dampen the excitement he can feel building within him. I will go in place of Aeglostor, and speak with my friend. What business does Aeglostor have with Belathon, anyways?
Glancing at the water clock beside his bed, he gives a little jolt of alarm. It is near the 9th hour of the morning- he has overslept!
"Faervel?" He calls as he shoves back his blankets and slides down off the bed. With autumn fully settled in amongst the forest and creeping into the Halls, the stones bite at his toes. "Faervel! Have I missed breakfast?"
But now, his aunt does not appear through the adjoining door as she usually does when she hears him call. In fact, the voices outside go quiet, and no one answers him.
This is odd. Has everyone taken their breakfast to another room?
Hastily, he skips over to his wardrobe and yanks on his favourite pair of deerskin shoes, blindly grabs a tunic, sheds his sleeping tunic and pulls the clean one over his head. He doesn't bother with his messy braids- his mind is entirely focused on getting to breakfast, and then to Belathon. Perhaps if I hurry, I will get there before Aeglostor asks me about Belathon-
Only, when he goes to open the heavy wooden door, the handle does not move. "Um," he pulls down again, waits for the handle to give way. "Hello?"
Still, the handle remains stiff under his touch. Surprise creeps into his stomach. It must have locked itself accidentally- their wooden doors are old, and have locked by themselves occasionally. Once Lhosben had managed to lock himself in his study for near upon a day, and had emerged red-faced and hoarse-voiced from all of his shouting.
"Faervel!" He shouts, pulls down again and again on the handle. "I think my door has locked accidentally-"
An odd clanging sound, and shuffling of heavy feet reach his ears. "Oh, Prince Legolas, is that you?" The voice is distinctly muffled, and completely unfamiliar.
"Yes? Who else would it be?" He replies. "Could you fetch a lock-smith or something, I think my door has locked-"
The muffled voice drifts through the wood. "I am sorry, Prince Legolas. But I am on orders of the King to keep the Palace under tight security."
Tight security? What has happened? Alarm rushes up into his fae, makes it leap. "Is something wrong? What's going on?"
"I believe, my Prince," the person says, "that a sizeable amount of unknown intruders have breeched our southern borders."
"Intruders?" Surprise makes his voice go shrill. "When? How long will it take until they get here?"
"The King was alerted to this intrusion early this morning, my Prince. I do not know how long it will take for the intruders to be apprehended, but rest assured that the King has sent a well-armed patrol of guards out to capture them. I apologise for the inconvenience."
A patrol? Please, do not say it is Annith! "Do you- do you know who has been sent out?" That part of the forest he knows to be riddled with yngyl, and while his sister is smart and brave, she is still his sister-
"His Majesty sent out a stealth patrol lead by the Prince Aeglostor, my prince."
Relief floods him so suddenly that he has to take a breath. "O-Oh. I see."
The guard, most likely hearing the relief in his voice and mistaking it for concern, shuffles slightly. "Do not worry, my Prince. The Prince Aeglostor is a mighty warrior. I am sure he will be fine."
The morning passes as slowly as a crust of bread through a honey pot. Legolas is resigned to his bedchamber to wait until the patrol returns, as he supposes every edhel within Eryn Galen must. A breeze stirs outside, and the sound of branches banging on the window is, for a while, the only sound in his room.
Eventually a maid comes and delivers him breakfast; eager for news, he begs her for information, but she only shakes her head and apologises. "I do not know, my prince, what is happening. Only that the Halls are kept closely guarded."
Anxious, he watches as the water-clock shifts from the 10th hour, to the 11th. Belathon would be getting ready to meet Aeglostor in the dungeons by now, he thinks. But how can he get out before 12?
Legolas investigates his chamber, searching in vain for a way of escape- pushing against the interconnected door between his and Faervel's chambers is a lost cause- the wood refuses to budge, even when he shoves against its weakest points.
Even trying to reach out and touch the bond between him and Ada ends in failure; it is as though a great wall stands between them, for he can get no glimpse of what his father sees, nor how he feels.
Guilt rises up to his throat, causes his fae to twist. Perhaps- last night, the way he had forbidden Ada from seeing into his mind- is that why he can no longer sense him? Or, he tries to think reasonably, Ada could be stopping me from reaching him. He has done that before when something is wrong.
Curious, he touches the stone walls about him. Almost immediately their Song floods his fae, heavy and sturdy as stone always is. The rocks Sing of strangers- intruders- and the word of the King, who forbids any from leaving the safety of its cold embrace.
And then, just as the water-clock shows Anor to be at her zennith, there is the sound of clanging feet upon rock right outside his door.
"My prince!" The guard calls, and Legolas scrambles to his feet. "My prince, the patrol has returned!"
"And the intruders? Ai-!" He almost stumbles over a carpet as the blood rushes to his head. For a moment his vision goes red, but he manages to regain his balance on the hard edge of a table, and totters over to the door.
"They- they are naugrim, and 13 of them there are!"
The word, so unfamiliar, stops him. "Dwarves? What are a company of naugrim doing in our woods?" He knows of dwarves, of their traitorous actions many, many yen ago in a long forgotten forest, but never has he thought they would come to Eryn Galen!
For a brief moment laughter bubbles up in his chest as he imagines Lhosben or Ada's faces. There are few people that they mistrust more than those hairy creatures!
"The King speaks with their leader now, my prince, to try and glean their purpose; the rest he has put in bars."
The dungeons! Dismay fills him. That is where Belathon plans to meet! "May- may I come out of my chambers now?" He asks.
The guard pauses. "You may, but the King requests that you remain close to your chambers until the purpose of the naugrim is discovered. A council will be called as soon as his Majesty finishes questioning the leader."
"Yes, yes I will!" Ada could ask him to go climb the cave walls for all he cares!
At last, there is the clank of the key turning in the lock, and the door creaaaaks open- "Hannon le!" Legolas shoots out of the door and flies down the corridor before the guard can utter more than a shout of surprise.
It is rude, he knows, to push past others, but he must reach the dungeons before any realise where he goes, and his legs ache with the need to run. He hares down the corridor, propels himself off the stairs and lands with a thud on the ground.
Other elves are beginning to peer out of their own quarters, their faces wary as though expecting an attack, but Legolas hardly cares.
Bolting past the chambers of Emlinel and Lhosben, he catches a glimpse of his older brother's surprised face- "Legolas!" Lhosben calls after him, "where do you go-?"
He does not slow, not even for the angry shout of his brother. How joyous it is to feel his legs stretch out from under him- the pull of his muscles!
Weaving his way through the various corridors, he travels past the royal quarters, and then down past the kitchens and other stations. Light filters in through the caverns, spilling across the stones and warming them under his feet.
Yet everyone is quiet; the faces of the ellyn and ellyth he passes are pale and drawn tight with worry. No one seems to be excited by the news of naugrim within their Halls, and worry tugs at his fae.
Legolas slows to a walk, lets two ellyn pass him by.
"Did you hear?" One says with nary a glance at the slight figure he passes. "His Majesty is furious at those hairy little creatures."
The other nods, voice drifting as they turn a corner. "Yes- he knows the leader too, apparently. Something about a dwarf called Oaken-shield?"
Oaken-shield? The name tickles at his mind, teases him. Hadn't Badhron gone over the history of the dwarves briefly, once? No, he's sure he'd remember a dwarf with a name as- as ridiculous as Oaken-shield!
With a shake of his head, Legolas continues after the ellyn, reaching the top of a flight of stairs. The dungeons- if he remembers true- are several flights below Ada's Halls, and just past where the merchants store all of the season's Dorwinion and imperishable foods.
The world darkens as he journeys deeper under the earth, pausing only to glance around him as he reaches the second flight of stairs. The corridor is empty, and so he carries on.
Unexpectedly as he rushes down the stone stairs, a sensation of worry begins to creep into his fae and tugs. Shouldn't he wait back near his chambers, as the guard suggested? Legolas nearly pauses as the worry flickers again within him. This time it is stronger, and it pulls. Almost abruptly, he turns and goes to travel back up the stairs-
No. What am I doing? I have to- I must meet Belathon- he stops, shakes his head frustratedly, trying to push down the worry that beats against his fae. There isn't any need to go back now!
The sensation of his fae being pulled fades at last, and he resumes his journey. The skin on his neck prickles; it is dim here, and the scent of earth and stone strong against his nose. The quiet patter of his feet upon stone quickens until at last the flight of stair ends, and he finds himself on flat ground. The door to the cavern is open already, and carries a pungent, almost earthy scent with it.
Just as he remembers, the cavern which holds their prison is wide, allowing for rows upon rows of cells to stretch to the left of him in a semi-circle allotment. A single lantern illuminates the stretch of cells.
Voices reach his ears, and turning his gaze, Legolas sees the two ellyn from earlier walking around the corner, completely ignoring the cells behind them. "By Eru," one says loudly in the strange Westron tongue, "who knew that naugrim could stink so much?"
The reply of the other is lost to him, for a sudden wave of growls and strange, rough syllables erupt from the cells.
Legolas has to bite back a grin as he leaves the shelter of the doorway and quietly pads after the two ellyn; the dwarves heard the insult, and clearly they did not like it!
However, curiosity prickles at his skin, and he cannot resist pausing to glance at the full cells behind him. The gloomy air does not hide the sight of at least a dozen angry- and hairy- faces glaring back at him.
One of the naugrim, his head shining bald in the dim lighting, but curiously stamped with intricate tattoos, even steps forward to grasp the heavy bars of his cell and growls."What're you looking at?" He snarls. In the gloom his teeth flash, white as the fangs of a wolf.
The angry growl of his voice rolls down his skin and makes Legolas jump. He quickly hurries away, resolutely ignoring the low rumbles of amusement which drift after him. I suppose, he notes as he uncurls his fists from where they'd clenched in surprise, it is rude to stare- even if it is only at a bunch of smelly dwarves!
Down he traverses, turning into a small conclave of storage rooms. Relief rushes to him as he hears the sound of elven voices trickling out from a room, just past where the heady scent of Dorwinion wafts out at him.
Belathon's passionate voice, rising and falling as the flight of a hawk which is buffeted by headwinds, greets him first, just as he reaches the door.
"-why should we be content to sit under the governing hands of the Sindar, when it is our forest they have found themselves within!"
His hand- raised to knock politely- pauses in the cool air, and Legolas feels his mouth pulling down into a frown.
What- what is Belathon saying? Is he speaking of Eryn Galen?
"Listen here," says Belathon, for even with a wooden door between them, and the sharp, focused breaths of other edhil, there is no mistaking that voice. "For too long, we have allowed this ancient king, who thinks himself as mighty and above all of us, to rule our forest. We have let him rule us! Why? We are Silvan- we had no need for his kind, before they came and enmeshed themselves in our wood! We were prospering- we thrived! And look at what has happened now!"
Eru Above! The air hitches in his lungs and his heart thuds against his chest. Voices rise in agreement, utter cries of support. They are as loud to his ears as the roar of water against rocks.
What am I listening to?
A/N: Well, now we see Belathon's true colours... or do we?
Next chapter will be up soon!
Sindarin: Naugrim- dwarves
Fae- spirit
Edhel/Edhil- elf/elves