AN: Don't die of shock. I know it's been less than a week since my last update, and here we are with another chapter. Please bear in mind the chapter "Rumors and Enemies" as you read this...something comes into play here that you might want to go back to that chapter to check out.

Chapter Thirty-Five: A Treachery Revealed

"Estel?" Elrohir pushed the door to the room open, a bundle of clothes tucked under one arm. "The innkeeper found something, and...Estel?"

The room was empty. Elrohir whirled around to examine the doorway, noticing that Estel's walking stick was gone as well.

He groaned and covered his eyes with one hand, letting the bundle of clothes fall to the ground. "Not again."

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"What is your name?"

Estel blinked up at the man, carefully weighing what he knew about him. "Estel," he finally admitted, seeing no use in hiding his name. If this man was still on Thilator's side, he was in danger enough as it was that he had no need to hide his name.

The man smiled. "My name is Eliam. Your name...is it Elvish?"

Still a bit suspicious, Estel made a small, noncommittal noise. "I have heard it is," he said in a faint voice. "Where are we going?"

"Thilator and the others will travel by the larger road," Eliam explained, holding his torch up to indicate the path in front of them. "But I know where they are going...we can make faster time by cutting across this way."

"They should only be a few hours ahead of us."

Eliam grimaced just slightly. "Actually, this path is longer than the road...they may in fact be ahead of us by several hours."

"But why?" Estel stopped. "We should go back to the road, then."

"The road offers no cover," Eliam explained. "And while we can travel by the dark of night, when morning dawns we will be in full sight. This way we can get much closer to them in an unexpected way, and catch them unawares."

Estel frowned. He chose not to contradict Eliam's idea, but his heart was growing heavy. It would take them several more hours to catch up to Thilator?

A sudden idea came to him, and he quietly snapped a twig on a bush on the side of the path, careful to leave it dangling. His brothers had taught him to mark a trail that would be easy to follow, and while he knew that either Elladan or Elrohir would be able to trace his footsteps they would follow more quickly if he left a clear trail.

Eliam did not seem to notice, and as Estel trailed after him in the darkness of the night—though he thought it must be close to dawn—he continued to leave a trail of their path.

It would also be a clear sign to whichever brother who followed that he needed him. He did not relish the idea of following Thilator with a man of questionable loyalty—even though he had left the inn without a second thought. If one or even both of the twins happened upon them before they reached Thilator's men, so much the better.

"The road gets a bit steeper here," Eliam warned. "Do you need my help?"

"I will manage," Estel replied, ignoring the man's offer. The ground was beginning to grow rocky here, and he wondered why the path lay through the hills. "This will lead us to Thilator?"

"To his eventual end," the man replied. "We must hope we travel faster than he, the roads only cross at one point, and if we arrive too late this journey will be for naught. But if we arrive too early, he may see us anyway. It is dangerous."

"I am not afraid," the younger man retorted. "Legolas is my friend. He helped me escape at the risk of his life...I can do no less than the same for him."

Eliam nodded. "Very well. Prepare yourself...it is a long and difficult road."

Estel stamped his walking stick on the ground in agreement. His leg was just beginning to throb again, but he gamely trailed after Eliam, still breaking twigs on the side of the path.

No matter how long the road might be, he knew now that nothing would keep him from trying to rescue his friend.

Nothing.

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Elrohir had kept himself from pounding on every door of the inn to find out if someone had seen Estel, but it had been close. He did not know why Estel would leave—and surely the young human had left voluntarily. What sort of kidnapper would kindly let Estel take his walking stick with him?

The room had shown no signs of a struggle, so surely Estel had left of his own free will. Elrohir shook his head in exasperation, stopping only to tell the innkeeper to hold his room until he returned. After all, knowing Estel the young man would somehow get himself into more trouble and be unable to return to Rivendell without another three days' rest.

No, Elrohir shook his head as he slipped out into the night. Estel had gone after Legolas. Though why he had gone alone was a mystery to the elf. He had been expecting his brother to beg and plead and try to convince him that they should both go after Legolas immediately, but he had not expected Estel to go himself.

Kneeling in the dirt just outside the town, Elrohir's sharp eyes found his brother's familiar bootprints. One print was deeper than the other, and he could see a round impression from his brother's walking stick. So at least Estel had that much of a weapon should something happen.

Following the prints he slowly wound his way down toward the hills where he and the others had found Estel. The moon had set, but the stars were enough light for him to trace his brother's steps.

He paused as he noticed a second set of prints alongside Estel's. The other prints from the town had branched out, but this set had continued to follow Estel's all the way out of town.

No, Elrohir shook his head as he studied the prints again. Estel's footprint was partially inside one of the other prints...Estel had been following someone. He must have seen one of his captors and decided to trail the man in hopes of rescuing Legolas.

But the tracks were going away from the road, Elrohir noticed. He stopped for a moment, hesitating. Elladan and Palandil were following the main road, but Estel had disappeared on some side trail behind an unknown man.

He grimaced. There really was no decision to make. He would follow Estel.

He caught sight of a broken twig hanging off of a bush on one side of the trail and grinned. So Estel knew he would be following...good. At least the young human seemed to still have his wits about him. The trail he was leaving was a clear sign that he wanted Elrohir to catch up to him as soon as possible.

Leaving the main road behind, Elrohir set off to follow Estel's trail into the hills.

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"Keep walking!" Carmian snarled, shoving Legolas forward again.

The elf fought the urge to bite back with a sharp retort, trying to keep his focus on placing one foot in front of the other. It did not help that Carmian was right behind him, so if he slowed for a moment the human was ready to shove him again.

The ground was also much rockier here, and slightly inclined.

He did not understand why Thilator had ordered the men to split up, the larger party continuing down the main road while the rest of them broke a trail through the woods. He had heard someone mention a secondary path, one less-used than the road and thus less likely to be spotted. Legolas could only assume Thilator was making for that path, and that dividing their party would throw off anyone tracking them.

Legolas stumbled when his foot twisted beneath him, sinking to his knees despite Carmian roughly trying to pull him to his feet.

"Get up," Carmian growled.

He tried, but stumbled again as he realized his foot was stuck. Carmian, realizing what had happened, knelt down to free his foot, cursing all the while. The old roots of a long-dead tree had snared Legolas' foot, and Carmian viciously tore them apart and yanked the elf's foot free.

"Now walk," he ordered, hauling him to his feet and shoving him forward.

Legolas limped forward—to add to his other numerous aches, his ankle had twisted when he fell. The human behind him kept pushing him, every now and then shoving him to one side or the other seemingly to avoid some obstacle.

Rough laughter reached his ears, and he looked up to see Carmian's brother, Corben, and a couple of other men walking ahead of them. Corben glanced over his shoulder, met Legolas' eyes with a sneer, and turned back to his conversation.

Legolas watched the men for a moment, clamping his lips shut on another sharp retort as Carmian shoved him again. When Thilator had divided the men up, Carmian had only chosen five to accompany him with the prisoner. He did not know if these five were the most trusted of all the men, or if they were simply the strongest. But he knew at least two of them had been involved in the beating...one still had something of a bloody nose from where Legolas had managed to hit him when he'd succeeded in working his shoulder free.

Were it not for Thilator's presence, Legolas knew he could have bested all five men were he in better shape. Even in his current condition, he could have at taken out at least three unarmed, and all five if he had his weapons. But Thilator had some training as a warrior—Legolas still remembered the attack in the gardens nearly four hundred years ago—and he would not be so easily defeated.

Indeed, Legolas did not know if he could best Thilator now. For while the prince was a trained warrior now, Thilator had spent the last few centuries wandering the wilds alone and had undoubtedly learned a few rather un-elvish tricks.

Such as hiring men to do his dirty work, Legolas reflected grimly.

He fell again when Carmian shoved him over a bit of rough ground, groaning as his arms took the brunt of his fall. The human sneered, yanking him back to his feet with more force than was necessary, nearly making him fall again.

"Carmian." Thilator's sharp rebuke held a bit of warning.

"He fell."

It was obvious that the dark-haired elf did not believe the man's protest. "Do not touch him unless he is hindering our progress."

Carmian snorted in disdain. "Why? It is not as if we have to present him to his father direcly upon arrival. Or do you expect the king to pay the ransom right out-of-hand? Surely there will be time for negotiations."

"Ransom?" Thilator's voice darkened. "I never said a word about ransom."

Carmian halted, his eyes narrowing. Legolas glanced from human to elf, biting back his apprehension when he saw the change coming over Carmian's face.

"We are not going to ransom him?" the man asked slowly, as though speaking to a child.

"Oh, we will. Eventually. I have told you, I plan to use him to overthrow the king. Then your people shall have their reward. Thranduil will see his youngest son utterly broken. Then, with the second prince within our grasp, he will relinquish the throne to me to prevent another death."

Legolas nearly laughed. Thilator actually thought he and his men could capture Belegdur? His brother's skill was twice as sharp as his tongue, even if he rarely served as a warrior any more.

"You said nothing about another kidnapping," Carmian growled dangerously.

"It will be easy," Thilator waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "A word from us and half the realm will believe the second prince had a hand in this one's torment. My sister sowed those seeds years ago. He will be driven out when his brother's body is delivered to the palace, and then all of Mirkwood will be ripe for the taking."

Carmian's eyes narrowed further. "Have you been planning this all along?"

"Since the beginning," the dark-haired elf replied, oblivious to the shock on Legolas' face. Amarthwen had been the one to spread the lies about Belegdur? She was the reason so many had believed that Belegdur had locked him in the dungeons so many years ago...that his brother's action had driven him out of Mirkwood?

"Were it not for her murder, we would have succeeded four centuries ago," Thilator groused. "Even if it takes another four centuries, I will be avenged."

"Another..." Carmian's voice trailed off. He shook his head, a murderous light shining in his eyes. "You have not told us when we would be rewarded."

Legolas took a step back, halted by firm hands on his arms. The other men were watching the confrontation intently, but not so intently as to allow their prisoner to escape.

"In time," Thilator said, soothingly. "When Mirkwood at last becomes a realm of men and my family is avenged, your people will be rewarded."

Carmian stalked toward Thilator, his hands twitching near his belt. "How long?"

Thilator's smile was grim, even victorious. "As long as it takes. Perhaps your son's sons will receive their reward."

"You told us it would not take long to ransom the prince."

"It will not. After all," Thilator's smile broadened and grew more mocking. "One hundred years is not a particularly long time to an elf."

Carmian exploded in rage, his roar of anger terrible. Harsh fingers tightened in Legolas arm, and he felt himself jerked back painfully as though one of his captors was somehow blaming him for Thilator's treachery. His arm was twisted behind him, and he was forced to his knees, the cold steel of a knife pressed against the back of his neck.

He swallowed in apprehension. Surely they would not kill him merely to thwart Thilator's plan.

"Come now," Thilator said to Carmian, in a mockingly soothing tone. "Did you honestly believe an elf would constrain himself to one man's lifetime? What are a few generations of men to an immortal when there is a throne to be gained?"

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