Disclaimer-See chapter one
Chapter one-Black Blood
(Legolas' PoV)
Mithwe had been in Greenwood for nearly a week when father asked me to go on a scouting mission. I asked Mith to join me and he seemed quite easy about agreeing, though I thought I saw an emotion akin to fear flash in his eyes. But before I could be truly sure it vanished behind the ever-present shields that hid his soul from view.
The morning we were to leave I woke to the grey light of pre-dawn filtering through my window. After dressing I made some last minute preparations and said my farewells. I went to get Mithwe just as the sun was rising.
I knocked lightly on the door and it opened almost immediately. Mithwe smiled, a quirk of lips that didn't touch his eyes, and walked out. A quiver and bow decorated with golden vines hung over his shoulder.
As the Elf I thought of as my friend closed the door behind him I noticed, as though for the first time, his hair swinging loose. Had I chosen as my companion an un- blooded who had yet to earn warrior braids? Surely not; no Elf who was unsure of his abilities would sleep on the ground in the middle of an ever-darkening forest. But just to be certain I would have to find some way to test the extent of his capabilities and training.
We walked together into the stables where the warm, grassy smell of horses pulled me out of my thoughts. From down the row Gwaeel, my stallion, nickered a greeting. I went in to groom him as I always did before a ride. Without stopping the quick motions my hand made with the brush I spoke to Mithwe.
"Just down the aisle there are some horses that don't have partners. Let them smell you. One should consent to bear you for the journey."
Gwaeel tossed his white head, making his silver mane sting my face. What was that for? He loved being brushed. He again tossed his head toward the back of the stable and alarm rang clear across our mental connection. I could have smacked myself. But when I turned to warn Mithwe of the unmanageable filly I had to stop my jaw from dropping.
Mith was leading a young horse with a coat of palest gold up the passage. A tilted half-smile lifted one side of his mouth.
"What is her name?"
"She- she has none. No one else has been able to lay a hand on her. I think she is yours by virtue of mutual attraction."
Mithwe studied the filly for a long moment. They seemed to connect, like puzzle pieces that have found their proper place. Suddenly the horse threw her head up and down, tossing her dazzling gold mane high into the air. Mithwe turned away to look at me and for a single instant a hint of true joy eclipsed the sorrow in his eyes.
"Her name is Nimril."
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We rode through the silent trees at a walking pace. Since we were still close enough to the palace to be relatively safe I tried to engage Mithwe in conversation. He was quiet at first but seemed to gradually warm up; and within an hour we were talking like two old friends. We spoke of feasts and dances; of Men and Dwarves and the many other things which walked Middle Earth in those days.
After a time our discourse turned to the Elder days, when the Elves returned and of the great cities they made. Throughout the course of our dialogue I noticed that there were certain places Mithwe would not speak of. Instead he would change the subject; sorrow rising to the surface of his bottomless green eyes. Thus it was when I spoke of Fangorn or Gondolin; though he was very interested in all I had to tell of Elrond, Glorfindel, and the Imladris twins.
We halted for lunch when the sun was high in the sky. I had decided that after we ate I would challenge Mithwe to an archery contest. That way I could safely test his skills. When we halted for the night I would see how he did with a knife. I finished my food and turned to him.
"Mithwe-" He continued to stare blankly at the barely nibbled piece of bread in his slim hands. "- how good an archer are you?
"Good enough."
His tone was cold and said that was the end of the discussion. Archery was obviously another one of his subjects to avoid. But this could end up being a matter of life and death; and besides, I was unused to taking orders from those not member of my family or father's council. All Mirkwood royals are proud and somewhat high-strung and his brusque dismissal stung me.
"I need to know. This is important Mithwe. I don't care if you don't like it I will know how good you are with a bow. Perhaps we could have an archery contest."
However upset I had expected Mith to be after his obvious dislike of the subject I hadn't anticipated anything near the reaction I got.
Mithwe's head snapped up. The deep sorrow in his eyes was nearly hidden by the burning anger which suddenly filled them. When he spoke his voice cracked as though he was unsure of whether to cry or rage.
"I will not have an archery contest with you or anyone else, EVER!"
With those words he jumped to his feet and practically ran from the clearing.
(Mith's PoV)
I ran as though I could outrun the memories haunting my steps. Flashes of my past flickered through my mind like lightning in a storm.
-Esce laughing as we spun in a crazy whirling dance.-
-Rilwen sitting beside us and whispering comments about the youth's looks as we watched them fight.-
-Esce and I elbowing each other back and forth in class.-
-The three of us laughing madly until the small hours of the morning.-
These were the happy memories. The reflections of time spent in laughter and joy. Green leaves, blue skies and Rilwen's wild stories. It was not from them that I fled.
-Orcs pouring from the trees.-
-Esce fighting grimly as blood ran from a gash along her ribs.-
-Carcasses strewn across grass now black with blood.-
I was on my knees; face in my hands as though I could block the visions that were sure to follow.
-Esce's knife, abandoned on the ground.-
-The trampled trail through the woods that was marked with silvery blood.-
-The stricken face of Ellas as he heard the new I had of his daughter.-
-The shadows of the trees as they blew in the chill wind of a storm.-
-And the sound of my own footsteps echoing like the noise of pursuit as I ran from all that I had ever known.-
A heavy rustle from somewhere close startled me out of the dark memories. My hand unconsciously flew to the hilt of the knife that had once belonged to my best friend. I looked up, searching the forest around me and found myself staring into a pair of murderous yellow eyes!
(Legolas' PoV)
Mithwe returned a half hour after he ran out. He was breathing hard from the run and his red-rimmed eyes said clearly that he had been crying. In his right hand he carried a knife that was still wet with black blood. His face was pale and he was shaking like a leaf.
"Goblins… nearly two dozen… right behind me."
"Mithwe, pull yourself together. We can beat two dozen orcs. But what I can't do is look after you while in the midst of a battle. You need to calm down or get out of here."
I did not like being so harsh, especially when Mith was so upset already. But my words had the desired effect. The muscles in Mith's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth and he remained pale, but anger covered the fear in his eyes. I could only hope that his hurt at the thought of an archery contest was not caused by shame at a lack of skill.
At that instant orcs came pouring into the clearing. Before I could fell the leader a grey-feathered arrow hit it squarely in the throat. Mith could obviously handle a bow quite well.
The next few creatures to appear fell beneath a deadly rain; then we were surrounded. I drew my knives and assumed a defensive position. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mithwe doing the same and knew that if his knife skills were anything close to his proficiency with I bow I didn't need to worry.
Five or so minutes later, during a brief lull in the fighting, I looked over my shoulder to make sure Mithwe was alright. He had a knife in each hand and seemed to be holding his own quite nicely. But his face was grey and evil memories filled his eyes. I watched for an instant longer as he slew a goblin, and then turned to deal with my own attackers.
I was just in time to parry the swipe of an orc blade headed for my neck. A quick turn of my wrist disarmed the creature and a backhanded slash assured it wouldn't be trouble ever again. The blows were coming thick and fast now; I had no more time to think of Mithwe. Blocking and slashing, I immersed myself in the age-old dance of battle.
After a time I realized with a twinge of alarm that the number of orcs wasn't lessening. My knife handles were slippery with the blood of the creatures I had slain yet there seemed to be more now than at the beginning. I whirled as a soft cry sounded behind me.
Mithwe was still fighting, but only with one hand. The other was pressed against his ribs where blood trickled through his fingers from a jagged cut.
Our enemies noticed Mith's handicap and closed in around him even as I fought to get to his side. I was almost there when a huge orc, probably the captain, pushed in front of the others. It held a scimitar in one hand and a chain in the other.
The creature came up from behind while Mith was busy with three others in front of him. I tried to yell but my voice was drowned out by the loud howls of the orcs. So I did the only thing I could.
I sheathed my knives and took my bow from where it hung across my back. In the eternal instant it took for the arrow to strike the goblin I threw the bow back over my shoulder and drew the long white knives at my waist but it was too late; and I knew it.
Cold steel sliced my shoulder, followed by a warm gush of blood. As fast as I could move wasn't swift enough. Even as I fought an orc kicked my legs out from beneath me. I went to my knees, still struggling desperately. It was no use.
(Mithwe's PoV)
An arrow flew past me and hit something at my back with a muffled thump. Just to the left and about six feet away I saw Legolas unsheathing his knives and knew already that he wouldn't make it. Struggling to reach him, I watched in horror as he went down beneath a pile of goblins.
(Legolas' PoV)
I was surprised when the orcs didn't just slit my throat. Then again, I thought as they tied my hands behind my back and forced me up to my knees, they did seem to enjoy taking Elves alive. I only hoped Mith would escape.
The biggest orc in the group stood.
"Elf, put down yer weapons and surrender or yer friend dies."
Mithwe looked from me to the orc, white with horror. I shook my head and felt blood trickle down my neck. The goblin noticed.
"Don't listen to 'im boy. You wouldn't want us ta kill yer prince, would ya? Drop yer weapons!"
Mithwe looked at the creature and dropped his knives. Then he took off his bow and quiver and set them on the ground also. I watched as the goblins tied his hands behind his back and knocked him out. Then I fell into oblivion.
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