Thanks to all of you still reading and especially those reviewing. It is good to know that you are still with me on this strange ride! I hope this next chapter gives a little more insight as to the feelings behind our young elfs behaviour although some of you may not like me very much for what I'm putting him through. ;) Thanks also to the new followers I'm glad you like it enough to want to know whats going on!
Just a quick couple of messages :-
To Dahybridqueen - I hope you didn't get in too much trouble, maybe I should put a warning on it ** YELL ALERT -NOT SAFE FOR CLASSROOM READING** Lols!
To ILV - if thats your calm voice I dread to think what angry is like! Please be aware that punching the screen may cause bleeding knuckles and a terminal loss of laptop rights. hehehe! I'm glad you're gonna stick with me. I only hope you like how it all turns out, or you can throw things at me if you don't!
I hope you manage to understand OPMEs point of view a little better now too.
Oh, and thanks for the coffee and cake *wipes chocolate from around mouth* not that I eat chocolate of course ;)
Well. Here we go again.
Chapter 24
Estel has no concept of the passage of time, he could have been sitting there for mere seconds or long days, slumped, where his treacherous legs deposited him, on the practice ground before the archery target still bristling with arrows, unaware of his surroundings but with a profound sense of wrong invading every fibre of his being. His minds eye is replaying the scene over and over again and he watches, in complete disbelief, as the blade describes its journey from hilt, to neck and back to hilt, feels once more the small sting of the cut, the welling of blood and the numbing shock as the icy words sink into his heart. This can not be. He repeats the mantra in his mind. This can not be. This can not be. Yet he knows it is.
At last the lonely figure rises to his feet, the feeling of wrong gnawing at his mind. He can not let this go. He will not let this friendship go. They have been through much together and although the past fifteen years must seem like a few seconds in the elfs long life they have grown so close in this time that he knows, deep within, Legolas would never willingly hurt him, there must be some reason behind the uncharacteristic behaviour and he is determined to root it out.
Mind made up he quickly moves away from the practice field and takes the path back towards his home. The Mirkwood party must have arrived by now and as he feels certain that Legolas will be eager to see them it will be the logical place to find both him and some answers. If the archer wont talk to Estel then his own kin should be able to get through to him and ease his mind, he suddenly brightens, maybe they will even know what caused the older elf to attack Legolas in the first place. With these thoughts in mind he quickens his pace and soon finds himself within the entrance and turns towards dining hall where he knows food and drink has been laid out for the visitors.
As he nears his destination he becomes aware of the low murmur of hushed conversation ahead of him which seems to stop abruptly, to be taken over by a commanding voice he vaguely recognises, yet which, for reasons he is unable to fathom, makes his heart quail. His feet hurry onward and he quickly covers the remaining ground before entering the room almost at a run to be greeted by a sight he has never before witnessed. The young prince, usually so bright and cheerfully lively, is kneeling, head bowed in obesience, before a haughty looking elf Estel recognises as the elven kings chief advisor who is looking down with such an expression of disdain on his face as to make one think he was standing over an orc.
Beside the strange duo stands Elrond, an air of disquiet upon his stern features and as his eyes scan the room, the young man spots his twin brothers, looking most uncomfortable, waiting at the end of the table near the door, gazes seemingly fixed upon the tableau created by the prince and advisor. In fact, every eye in the room is trained in the same direction with what, Estel realises, with a chill, appears to be a sense of uneasy anticipation. He has obviously missed something important.
His brain finally interprets what the imperious being looming over his friend has just said but refuses to believe that he is questioning the archers guilt. Surely any who know Legolas would realise there would be no cause to doubt his integrity, he could no more harm another being maliciously than he could change the colour of his eyes. His heart is too pure, too kind, too generous.
In a way although his years far outweigh Estels he is so much more naïve and trusting, too much so at times. That his own kin could even think this is beyond the young man, even with what he has just been subjected to he knows, deep within his fea, that his friend would not have acted so without a reason, albeit one that may only make sense to the archer, and he is determined to solve the puzzle. He moves forward to offer a protest but is silenced, before a sound can leave his mouth, by the regal tones of the prince in question.
"Guilty, Hir Nin, My Lord"
The three words, spoken with a cool calmness belying the fluttering of the young archers heart pierce the air like an arrow. For a few seconds silence clings on to its tenuous hold over the room before finally giving way as a collective gasp followed by a single astonished utterance pushes it aside.
"No!" Estels face is drained of all colour, his eyes shine with disbelief at what his ears have just heard. "You can't .." His words falter as the kneeling elfs head whips around, piercing blue eyes filled with a brief anguished plea, before being replaced, so quickly the young man almost missed it, by his icy mask once more and returning his gaze to his fathers representative.
Estel feels two arms placed under his to steady him as his knees suddenly feel too weak to support his weight and turns with a faint smile to thank the pair who have moved to his side unnoticed in his panic, only to catch his breath at the deadly fire residing in the glare his oldest brother directs upon their blonde friend.
"'Dan?" the concerned whisper goes unnoticed by the elder twin as he remains apparently transfixed by the scene in front of him, face a deadly mask Estel has only ever seen him wear whilst hunting orc. "'Roh?" He turns to the other in confusion, panic rising as he feels the hate emanating from Elladan, his mind in turmoil as it tries to comprehend the situation and feels Elrohirs hand tighten around his arm, sees his eyes widen and his head nod in a silent warning he does not fully understand until seeing movement out of the corner of his eye turns back to find his friend, still on his knees, head bowed once more, a circle of Mirkwood guard forming around him.
.
Dark, why is it dark? A feeling of panic begins to well within me. I was somewhere else, I'm sure I remember somewhere else, I try to force my mind to concentrate, willing memories to return and conjure up an image I can recognise but the harder I try the further away the memory seems to fly.
My heartbeat races in my ears in the eerie silence, I open my mouth to scream but my throat can produce no sound. Fear grips me in its frozen claws. I fall, suspended within the darkness, no support, nothing to catch hold of, alone, alone and falling forever.
.
A sudden sharp prickle of pain in the back of his neck from an elven arrow makes the young prince flinch, for a moment he is unsure where he is, mind clouded slightly as if awakening from a dream yet he knows he has not been asleep, then it clears and reality hits him hard enough to feel as a heavy weight settles within his heart.
He forces himself to stay still, against all his instincts, whilst he feels the guard surround him, their drawn bows cutting off any form of escape. As if he would try. They can feel no deeper abhorrence for his deed than he. The guilt surging through his veins needs to be assuaged and he knows the price he now will be forced to pay, accepts it as his due, his only regret the pain this will cause to his father and friends.
His eyes close as he remembers the fear and confusion upon Estels face and tears well up as he sees once more the bloom of blood from the nick created by his own hand. A hand never before turned against another save in battle, until now, a small sigh escapes his lips, until the fateful fight with Lhosson. He wishes he could turn back time, but wishes are only dreams and reality is what needs to be faced. Estel had to be pushed away, it will hurt less in the long run, if he feels betrayed now he will forget sooner, will move on and live his life without the lingering taint of having befriended a kin slayer and the doubts this may raise in others around him, especially when he comes into the heritage Elrond has yet to inform him of.
The prince wonders briefly if this is why his father has not come, and a sharp pain within his chest causes him to inhale sharply at the thought, which he pushes away to deal with at a later date. His mind is swiftly brought back to the present by another, more forceful prick at his nape and the imperious tones of his fathers advisor commanding him to rise. He gains his feet in one fluid movement, all trace of tears or regret banished from his face as he once more stands eye to eye with the commanding elf and awaits impassively the pronouncement of his fate.