Disclaimer: Those you recognize belong to Tolkien. I do not own them. Those you do not recognize belong to me.
Summary: Gaining the friendship of a mortal child was not something Thranduil expected on his trip to Imladris with his son. But when secret plots result in grave consequences, the boy may be the king's one hope of survival.
Author's Note: So, after the response on the last chapter, doreenthatshot, AnaofRohan, and I have ventured to go save Legolas. Though I have to say it really wouldn't make sense if our adventure to rescue everyone's favorite Mirkwood prince was to be written down in the context of this story, so we'll just have to see how this plays out ;) Haha! Anyway, thanks so much to EmpressHimiko, Doreen, The Pearl Maiden, Elven Warrior Princess, Gwedhiel0117, Joshua Nenya, and PatonxJulia for your reviews! You guys are awesome and make this story even more fun! Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Also on a bit of a random note, the song "Afterlife" by Avenged Sevenfold has been very helpful for the next couple chapters. Not entirely sure if that's a good or bad thing, lol! Read, review, but no flames please. Enjoy!
Elvish:
ernil– prince
ada– father
penneth– young one
mellon-nín– my friend
hannon le– thank you
Chapter 4
Elrohir stared at his Mirkwood friend in horror, his gaze passing over the impassive look on Legolas' fair face and the determined look in his eye despite the blade resting lightly against his neck. His gaze then moved to Amonost, who held him, his eyes narrowing angrily at the guard.
"I trusted you," he muttered so quietly the Elf his words were directed toward could hardly hear them. "After all you have done for Elladan and I, you aid in an attempt to murder our father?"
For a moment, Amonost's dark eyes faltered, but only for a moment as he instead focused on keeping a tight hold on his hostage. "I... I have aided with what is right," he said a bit uncertainly.
The younger twin raised an eyebrow. "You would slay your own kin?" he wondered, catching the nervous flicker in the guard's eyes.
Aeglironion glanced at the dark-haired Elf before turning his attention back to Elrohir, slipping the vial of herbs back into his tunic. "I believed it would be clear that the risk is one I am more than willing to take," the fair-haired cook told him. "For in a few short hours, your father and Thranduil will be dead. They will not last until sunrise."
Elrohir opened his mouth to argue, but the prince was quicker. "They will not," Legolas replied angrily, watching as Aeglironion's light eyes moved to him. "Elrond did not drink your poison, and he has been healing my father. You will not succeed."
However, Aeglironion merely laughed at his words as he turned and slowly took a couple steps closer to the prince. "I suppose that mortal child is more observant than I believed. I should have planned more accordingly," he mused. "However, it is no matter. I will not make the same mistake again." He stopped in front of Legolas, unfazed by his angry glare. "There are other ways to administer poison to Lord Elrond. As for your father, ernil, all of Elrond's attempts are merely prolonging his suffering. After all, the poison he requires is in my possession. It may take longer, but Thranduil will die."
Legolas' blue eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, attempting to reach the cook, but he was stopped by the pressure of the blade against his neck, enough to leave a slight cut in his skin. Aeglironion grinned, reaching forward and roughly grabbing a handful of the prince's light hair before leaning closer.
"Your father deserves the torment, Legolas," he whispered. A smirk appeared on his face when he saw the Mirkwood Elf's eyes widen slightly, reading the silent question in them.
How did this cook know his name?
Elrohir took a couple steps closer, but he paused when Aeglironion released his hold on his friend and turned back to him. "As for you, Elrohir, I want you to hand me that glass and bowl," he told him, holding his hand out for emphasis. "You will not be bringing them to your father."
The younger twin hesitated, tightening his hold around the objects the cook was demanding. His thoughts traveled to Thranduil, knowing he required them if his friend was to survive, and he slowly shook his head. "I will not," he said firmly.
Anger flickered across Aeglironion's face as he lowered his hand. "Mayhap I must be clearer." He glanced at Amonost, who pressed the edge of his dagger a bit closer to Legolas' neck, causing the prince to involuntarily wince. "Hand me the glass and bowl, Elrohir or your friend will die."
Elrohir's gaze faltered before landing on the dark-haired guard. "You would not kill him," he muttered, his tone confident.
Amonost noticeably hesitated as he glanced down at Legolas' impassive expression, and though he kept his tight grip around the dagger's hilt, he eased the pressure of the blade on his throat slightly. Aeglironion's light eyes narrowed.
"He may not," the cook began, reaching for something on his hip, "but I would."
Elrohir watched with horror as Aeglironion slid a dagger that had been hidden by his tunic out of its sheath, taking a couple steps toward them as the fair-haired Elf turned his attention to Legolas and raised the blade. However, the cook paused when a sword blade suddenly rested in front of Amonost's neck, causing the guard to stiffen.
"Release him," a firm voice demanded quietly but with authority.
"Glorfindel." Elrohir sighed with relief.
The twice-born warrior had silently been approaching the traitorous guard and cook during their conversation, his presence unnoticed until it was too late. Judging by the anger on his face, he had no intention to free the dark-haired Elf.
"Release him," Glorfindel repeated when he did not oblige, pressing the blade with a bit more force against his throat. Amonost gasped quietly when it was enough to leave a slight cut in his skin, and seeing no option, he slowly lowered his dagger from Legolas' neck. The prince hurriedly stepped away from the guard, casting a grateful look to Glorfindel, who roughly grabbed Amonost's shoulder once the younger Elf was out of harm's way.
Aeglironion began to raise his dagger once more, but he was stopped when the point of a second sword was aimed at him. His light eyes moved to its holder, and a small smirk appeared on his face when he saw Elladan glaring back at him.
"Bring what you have found to Ada," the older twin told his brother and Legolas, aware of the urgency of the situation. "We will handle them."
Elrohir nodded once before he handed the bowl to the prince, and Elladan kept his sword trained on Aeglironion as they hurried past them out of the kitchens. The cook's smirk remained.
"You are being detained on charges of attempted murder against Lord Elrond of Imladris and King Thranduil of Mirkwood," Glorfindel stated, his intense gaze moving from Amonost to Aeglironion and back. "As well as Lord Elrond's chief advisor."
Amonost quickly glanced up at the twice-born warrior. "It was not my intent to take Lord Erestor's life!" he protested anxiously. "Lord Glorfindel, I swear it!"
Glorfindel's expression remained impassive, though his gaze smoldered. "It was not taken," he murmured, his tone threatening. "Though the act was enough." He then turned to Elladan. "Secure his dagger."
Elladan slowly began to take a couple steps closer to Glorfindel and Amonost, keeping his gray eyes and sword trained on Aeglironion. Once he was close enough, he reached his other hand out to take the guard's dagger, lowering his gaze for only an instant.
But it was enough.
As soon as Elladan grasped Amonost's dagger, Aeglironion raised his own and forced the older twin's blade aside as he shoved past him, disappearing into the darkness of the kitchen. Elladan glanced at Glorfindel, who nodded once, before he hurried after the fleeing cook. The twice-born warrior then turned his attention to Amonost, an angry glint lingering in his eye as he roughly shoved the guard who had been under his command into the counter. He lowered his sword, but the firm hand on the dark-haired Elf's shoulder kept him still.
"'Tis honorable of him to abandon you to the fate you shall both share," Glorfindel murmured.
Amonost's gaze faltered, unable to meet his eyes. The golden-haired Elf studied his face carefully for a long moment. "You have served under me for a long time," he continued when the guard said nothing. "Why would you aid in a task such as this?"
"It was just," Amonost replied quietly, wincing when Glorfindel tightened his hand on his shoulder and leaned closer.
"Attempting to murder the lord of this realm and the king of another is just?!" the Balrog Slayer demanded angrily.
"I... I knew not what Aeglironion intended when he came from Mirkwood," Amonost protested, his panicked eyes moving to the golden-haired Elf's furious ones. "Lord Glorfindel, I–!"
"Amonost," Glorfindel interrupted, loosening his hold a bit. "Did you say Aeglironion hails from Mirkwood?"
"Aye." Amonost nodded earnestly. "I first encountered him when we were called for the Last Alliance. He journeyed here many years after the battle."
Glorfindel lowered his gaze, mulling this information over for a moment. Then, his hard gaze moved back to the dark-haired guard, tightening his hand on his shoulder once more before he began to lead him from the kitchens.
"There is not much here," Elrond muttered thoughtfully, inspecting the minute, drenched remains of the herb at the bottom of the glass Thranduil had been given as well as the slight traces in the bowl Elrohir had brought from the kitchens. His younger son and Legolas had returned shortly before, and after tending to the slight cut the latter had received, the Elf lord had immediately turned his attention to what they had given him. "Though from what I am able to discern, the plant is not native to Imladris."
Legolas anxiously looked up from his once again still father, keeping his tight hold on his ringed hand while Elrohir turned to Elrond nervously. "Is it not enough, Ada?" the latter asked quietly, voicing the dread on both his and the prince's minds.
Erestor, still feeling weak, studied the dark tunic he had been wearing from where he sat in the chair beneath the window since Elrond had cleaned and wrapped the stab wound he had acquired while Legolas and Elrohir were gone, tracing the tear with his fingertip before he glanced at the lord of Imladris when he did not answer his younger son's question. "Elrond?" he prompted, draping the ruined garment over his arm. His quiet voice caused Estel, who was nearly falling asleep in the chair beside him, to stir a little.
Elrond slowly shook his head as he set the bowl on the small table beside the bed, passing a hand over his face as he sighed and began to pace a little. "I know not," he finally admitted quietly. He paused and turned his intense gaze to Elrohir, authority reentering his tone. "Prepare more fever reducing herbs, as well as some athelas. I will do what I am able with what you have given me."
Elrohir nodded once before he approached the small table and began to prepare the herbs his father requested. He attempted to keep his focus on the task before him, though he found it a bit difficult as his angered thoughts strayed to Aeglironion's words from the kitchen. The cook had what Elrond needed to save Thranduil's life– the poison that could aid in discovering the antidote. If only he had lingered behind longer to aid his twin and Glorfindel. Perhaps then he could have obtained what the Mirkwood monarch required.
Elrond observed his son, burdened slightly by the turmoil he could feel raging inside him, before he sat on the bed across from Legolas, his gray eyes resting on Thranduil between them. He watched the slight rise and fall of the king's chest for a moment before reaching forward and placing two fingers on the side of his neck. The Elf lord's eyes narrowed with concern when he felt his friend's pulse was still much too quick.
Legolas looked at the dark-haired Elf with worry before casting his eyes back to his father. Thranduil appeared to be resting peacefully, a significant change from before he had left. Though with his closed eyes and the lack of color in his face, that tranquility was deceiving. How the prince longed for just a quick glimpse of his father's familiar blue eyes. How he longed to hear even a whisper of his father's timbre voice. How he silently pleaded for just a simple sign that the king he loved still lived.
The prince closed his eyes in attempt to prevent the tears that threatened to make themselves known, taking a deep breath to collect himself. Elrond glanced up, reaching across the bed and wrapping his hand around the younger Elf's free one without a word. His gaze faltered slightly when he felt Legolas grasp it as though it were a lifeline.
Erestor watched them with a sorrowful gaze, praying Elrond would be able to create an antidote with the scarce materials he had to work with since he feared Thranduil would be dead by morning if he was not. However, he had never seen the Elf lord so uncertain, and that concerned him. The chief advisor then glanced down at Estel when the child jumped a little, rubbing his clearly tired eyes. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched the boy struggle to stay awake, determined to know how his new friend would fare, but the need for sleep was too great.
"I am going to bring Estel to bed, Elrond," Erestor announced, wincing slightly as he stood from the chair when his side protested to the motion before he straightened out the light shirt the Elf lord had given him.
Elrond glanced up from the bed as Legolas did, a small smile appearing on his face when he saw Estel was already nearly asleep. He released the prince's hand and stood before he crossed the room to the chair, kneeling on the floor in front of his foster son. "May your dreams be pleasant, penneth," he said quietly, tenderly brushing some dark hair back from his face. "I will see you on the morrow."
Estel sleepily nodded a couple times before he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Elrond's neck in an embrace. "Good night, Ada," he mumbled, resting his head on his shoulder. "You wiwl tewl me how Thwan'dil is?"
The lord of Imladris sighed as he pulled the small child close to him, closing his eyes for a moment. "Aye, Estel. Rest now."
"Awl right, Ada." Estel slowly released his foster father and rubbed his eyes again. Elrond leaned forward and kissed his forehead, setting his hand on top of his dark hair for a moment before he rose to his feet and walked back over to the bed. The boy then looked up at Erestor when the chief advisor held his hand out to him, and he reached out and wrapped his smaller one around it as he jumped down to the floor.
"Good night, Ewohir. Legowas," Estel added as Erestor led him toward the door.
"Rest well, Estel," Elrohir replied while Legolas nodded and smiled at the young mortal.
Estel returned the look before he stepped out into the dark hallway with the lithe Elf, keeping a tight hold on his hand as they walked in the direction of his room. The child glanced up at Erestor, noticing the hint of pain in his stern, still paler features with each slightly faltering step he took, and he sighed quietly with concern. The stern advisor moved his dark eyes down to him, but when he saw the boy was looking ahead of them again, he raised his gaze as well.
When they made their way down the staircase, Erestor slowed his pace slightly when near silent footsteps drew nearer, and he and Estel watched as Glorfindel approached from the shadows of the kitchens. Held tightly in his grasp was Amonost.
"I see you have detained him," Erestor muttered stiffly, eyeing the traitorous guard with disdain.
Glorfindel nodded, but before he could reply, Amonost took a step toward the chief advisor. "Thank the Valar you are well, Erestor," he said, reaching his hands out and grasping his arm. "You must understand I panicked. I did not intend for you–!"
"Enough," Glorfindel commanded fiercely, pulling the traitorous guard back with a bit more force than necessary. He then turned his harsh gaze to Erestor, which softened instantly when his eyes lingered on his side where he knew the dagger wound was as well as the ruined tunic draped over his arm. "How do you fare, mellon-nín?"
"I am... better, Glorfindel. Hannon le," Erestor told him, his dark eyes not leaving Amonost. The guard shifted a little under his stern gaze.
Glorfindel smiled slightly, though he caught the other Elf's slight hesitation, before it waned. "And how is Thranduil?" he asked cautiously.
Erestor sighed as he turned to the golden-haired warrior. "He briefly regained consciousness," he answered quietly. He paused, slowly shaking his head. "Though Elrohir and Legolas managed to find slight traces of the poison in the kitchens, Elrond feels it may not be enough to work with for an antidote. I fear Thranduil may not last until sunrise."
The Balrog Slayer lowered his gaze, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Noticeable guilt crossed Amonost's face at this information since he had aided in the plot against the Mirkwood king, as well as Elrond, though he could not help but feel some gratitude the same fate had not befallen the lord of Imladris.
The guard then turned his attention to Estel, who was watching Glorfindel and Erestor continue to discuss in quiet tones with slightly drooping eyes. He took a step closer, and the child quickly turned his gaze to him, his eyes widening slightly.
"Estel, you must understand," Amonost muttered anxiously. "I was unaware harm was meant to befall your father. I have been nothing but kind to you, have I not?"
Estel looked up at the dark-haired Elf, taking a step back from him. This was the guard who had aided to harm his new friend. Amonost reached toward him, and the child cowered as he tightly grasped Erestor's hand with both of his own. However, before he could reach Estel, the chief advisor took a step in front of the boy protectively while Glorfindel quickly pulled the guard back.
"You will not speak another word to him," the twice-born warrior snarled angrily, tightening his hold on the traitor's arm.
"It is all right, Estel," Erestor muttered, kneeling before the child and brushing his fingers through his unruly hair in a calming motion. Estel wrapped his arms around the slender Elf's neck, burying his face in his shoulder. Erestor wound his arms around the child and held him close, turning up to Glorfindel. "What of Aeglironion?"
"He fled while we were detaining him," Glorfindel explained, anger flaring in his eyes as he glared at the guard. "Elladan pursued him, and once Amonost is secured, I will gather more forces to search for him. We will find him."
Erestor nodded once before lifting Estel into his right arm and rising to his feet, but he paused with a noticeable wince before he was able to straighten up completely when the pain in his left side flared. He smiled briefly when Glorfindel reached out and set his free hand on his arm to keep him steady as he balanced the boy on his uninjured hip, the small mortal not relenting his hold around the chief advisor's neck as he narrowed his gray eyes at the guard.
"I will be fine, Glorfindel," Erestor murmured, taking a moment to catch his breath before he dropped his voice further so only the twice-born warrior could hear him. "I only hope you find him soon. Thranduil does not have much time."
"Can Elrond do nothing with what was found?" Glorfindel pressed with concern, slowly lowering his hand from Erestor's arm even though his face had only grown paler under the strain of carrying the young mortal. "Aeglironion may have his poison, but Elrohir and Legolas were able to acquire traces of it."
"I have not once seen him as uncertain as he is now." Erestor shook his head slightly, worry crossing his fair features as well.
Glorfindel sighed, and by the look in his eye, he wished there was something more he could do for the lord of Imladris. "If anyone in Arda could aid Thranduil with what they discovered, it is Elrond," he muttered confidently. "He must."
Erestor's gaze fell, though he nodded once. "Aye," he agreed quietly, glancing down at Estel when he felt the child's light, even breathing against his cheek as his arms around his neck loosened a little. A slight smile curled the corner of his lips when he saw he had fallen asleep resting his head on his shoulder. "I must bring Estel to bed. Then I will return to see if I am able to aid Elrond."
Glorfindel smiled slightly, though it had a somber feel, when he looked at the sleeping boy, leaning forward and leaving a quick, gentle kiss on his head. Then, he turned his attention to Amonost, and unnecessarily tightening his hand on his arm, the twice-born warrior began to pull the quietly protesting guard along with him as they made their way down the hall. Erestor watched them until they were out of sight before continuing on himself, holding Estel close to him securely.
The chief advisor reached the child's room quickly, opening the door before stepping inside. He crossed to the bed and pulled back the blankets before carefully setting Estel down on his pillows. He let out a long breath, lightly placing his hand over his throbbing side until the pain subsided.
"Pleasant dreams, penneth," Erestor whispered, carefully pulling the covers up around him before he straightened and began to make his way to the door. After stopping at his own room to gather a fresh tunic, he would check on Thranduil's condition.
"Ewestor?"
At the quiet sound of his name, Erestor paused, turning over his shoulder to see the small mortal looking back at him with weary gray eyes. "Aye, Estel?"
Estel slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes, and the chief advisor walked back and sat on the bed beside the child. "Is... Is Thwan'dil gonna be awl right?" he asked quietly.
Erestor debated his answer for a moment before setting his hand on the boy's shoulder. He winced slightly when Estel leaned into his injured left side but wrapped his arm around him regardless. "I pray so, penneth," he muttered, brushing some hair back from the mortal's face when he looked up at him fearfully. "Though I am confident your father is the one who would be able to heal him."
The five-year-old considered the chief advisor's words, his small hand grasping his light shirt tightly for comfort. "Ewestor, what's poi... pois'n?" he wondered. "That's what Thwan'dil has, right?"
"Poison is not an illness, Estel," Erestor attempted to explain with a quiet sigh. "Rather it is something that can be used when someone desires to hurt someone else."
"'Cause they'we mad?" Estel pressed. When Erestor nodded, the child's gray eyes narrowed slightly. "Why wouwd that guawd and cook want to huwt Thwan'dil? And Ada? They did not'ing wong!" He paused, hesitating on his next words. "Did they?"
"Nay, Estel. They did not." Erestor said the words merely to put the child's fears at rest, though he was unsure if he believed them. For as long as he had known the proud Mirkwood king and the lord of Imladris, he had not believed them capable of treachery. He loved Elrond as he would his own family, and he had grown closer to Thranduil over time, mainly due to the escapades of his often mischievous young son whenever he visited their realm. However, they had clearly done some ill in Amonost and Aeglironion's eyes. Though what either Thranduil or Elrond could have done that was deserving of a slow, painful death from poison, he did not know.
"But that is what we will discover," he added quietly.
Estel seemed appeased by his words as he yawned. Erestor gave the child a small smile before he took his arm from around him. "Take some rest, penneth," he said, gently lying him on his pillows once more. "'Tis late."
Though he opened his mouth to protest, Estel was unable to as a second yawn overtook him. "Good night, Ewestor," he mumbled, closing his eyes as he found a comfortable spot on his pillow.
Erestor's smile broadened slightly as he covered the already sleeping child with his blankets once again, leaning down and softly kissing his head. Once he was certain Estel was comfortable, the thin advisor walked away from the bed and crossed the room. He paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the boy once more before he stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind him.
"Thwan'dil!"
The child ran toward where the eerily still Mirkwood king was lying on the bed, struggling to climb onto it before quickly crawling to his side. "Thwan'dil!" he repeated, studying his deathly pale face and closed eyes for a long moment. "Thwan'dil!" But there was no response from the golden-haired Elf.
Slowly reaching out a shaking hand, the child placed two small fingers on Thranduil's neck, but he felt nothing. There was no pulsating rhythm beneath his fingertips.
Panicked, the child quickly moved his gaze back to the king's face, seeing his fair features were void of expression. "Thwan'dil," he whispered, setting his hand on the Woodland monarch's cold cheek. "Wake up, Thwan'dil..."
The sound of breaking glass filled the room, and the child quickly looked to his right. Elrond was standing near the window, defeat clearly seen in his intense gray eyes, with Erestor, his posture stiff and his jaw clenched, beside him. Glorfindel stood close on his other side, a hand resting comfortingly on the Elf lord's tensed shoulder as a crestfallen look crossed his face when he gazed at the king. At their feet were the shattered remains of two glasses and a bowl.
Legolas stood at the foot of the bed, his face impassive but his eyes filled with sorrow and hopelessness as he looked down on his motionless father. He tightly clutched a sheathed sword in his palms, which the child had seen Thranduil wear before, his hands trembling slightly. Elladan and Elrohir stood close together a couple steps behind the prince, matching pained expressions on their faces as they silently watched their Mirkwood friend.
Something on the small table beside the bed caught his eye, and the child turned to see Thranduil's crown, or rather what remained of it. A sudden draft entered the room, and he watched as the last remaining golden leaves were taken and swept swiftly out the window. A thin line of tears forming in his eyes, the boy set his hand on top of one of the king's ringed ones, once again not granted with a response.
"Thwan'dil..."
Estel cried out as he sat up on his bed, his small form shaking a little as he anxiously looked at the darkness of his room around him. "Ada!" he called, a quiet sob escaping from him. "Ada!"
Since his foster father's room was not far away, Elrond would always come when Estel was woken in the night by a nightmare, his presence comforting as he drove away the haunting images that plagued his mind. But this time, the Elf lord did not come since he was further away in the healing ward, and the child was unable to forget the vision of a deathly pale Thranduil.
Knowing Elrond would still be tending to the king, Estel sniffed and attempted to wipe the tears from his eyes before he pushed the covers aside and leapt to the floor. He hurried across the room, desperate to find out how his friend was faring, and stood on his toes to reach the door handle. His reaching fingers were finally able to grasp it, and he pulled the door open and hurried out into the hallway.
However, the five-year-old gasped when he collided with a tall form, falling onto his backside. Estel fought the fresh tears that threatened to fall as he looked up, his gray eyes narrowing slightly to see who he had run into in the darkness. A slight smile appeared on his face when he saw a hint of golden hair in the soft moonlight filtering through the windows.
"Gwowfy?"
There was a moment of silence where the boy's smile slightly waned. "Not quite, penneth."
Estel's smile completely vanished as his eyes widened at the cruel tone. He watched with horror as the Elf he believed had been his friend took a couple steps closer, the faint light falling on the smirking face of Aeglironion.
Author's Note: I know, I know. I'm evil, lol. Aeglironion is one cruel Elf, isn't he? What are his plans now? Why do he and Amonost want to kill Thranduil and Elrond? Well, hopefully we'll find out soon! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thanks! Oh, and if you celebrate it, have a great Labor Day :)