-Siege of Dread-
By: Cassia and Siobhan
Rating: PG-13
Feedback:
cassia_a@hotmail.com and siobhancl2@aol.com
Spoilers:
Probably some for previous stories in our series, possibly for LOTR and
other Tolkien works.
Disclaimer:
We own
nothing of Middle Earth or any of Tolkien’s worlds or characters. Everything recognizable
belongs to JRR Tolkien; anything else belongs to us. We have no permission to
use these characters and are receiving no money for this story. This story was
written for enjoyment only. Please do
not use our original characters or situations without asking first. Thank you.
Summary:
Rivendell
has always been a place of peace. When that tranquility is threatened it leads
to a cascade of events that seek to destroy Aragorn's adopted family. Two
mysterious figures from the past become suddenly important and in a bizarre
twist of fate, Aragorn and Legolas find themselves faced with trying to save
not only the future of Rivendell, but Mirkwood as well... if they can save
themselves, first.
Series:
Yes, part of the sprawling Mellon Chronicles Universe which includes:
Tears Like Rain
Captive of Darkness
Hope
Father’s Love
Never Alone
First Meetings
Change of Heart, Change of Mind
Exile
Return
Mistaken Identity
Vilya
Black Breath
Sickness
The Seventh Stone
Betrayal
Legolas’ No Good, Rotten Day
Priceless Treasure
The Stars of Harad
Dark Visions
Traitor
Escape from Mordor
Curse of Angmar
Only the Beginning
&
And So The End
This story will make much more sense if you have
read those first, but if you want to be adventurous and give it a whirl by itself,
go right ahead!
WARNINGS:
The
usual.
Owies, angst, torture, destruction, mayhem... all the good stuff. :o)
Tissue warnings may be warranted on some of the later chapters.
Additional
Disclaimers:
By now most readers should know our take on this,
but just to be clear: We take the view that since Elrond raised Aragorn he
became his adopted father, and Elladan and Elrohir his brothers. Gilraen does not appear in our stories so for
all practical purposes both Aragorn’s birth parents died when he was
little.
Although technically Elrond is part everything (Noldor, Sindar, Human and even
a wee little bit of Maia) we choose to refer to him as a Noldo elf simply
because that seems to be the association he has chosen for himself in the
books, and all his foster parents or lords (first Maglor and then Gil-Galad)
were Noldor. Much as Legolas considers
himself Silvan despite being half Sindar. This is just our opinion, please
don’t get upset if you disagree.
Also, this story differs on several points from some
of the information laid out in the very interesting “Weapons and Warfare” book
by Chris Smith. However, since that book
tends to follow speculation based on the movie version of things and also
carries some pretty large divergences from the LOTR books (*cough, cough* Arwen
is Elrond’s ONLY child? Um... *cough* Elladan-and-Elrohir! *cough*) we don’t
feel too bad about crossing opinions with it on a few other issues.
As far as we know there is nothing in actual Tolkien-written canon that
excludes the scenarios we have taking place in this story, however, if there is
and we just don’t know it, then please understand that this is just fiction and
we’re not trying to portray anything as ‘fact’.
Likewise, if you just don’t think it’s feasible, that’s okay, that’s
your right, just think of it as AU if that makes you feel any better but pretty please don’t flame us over
it.
All flames and scoffing will be fed to our wargs who whisper in my ear, telling
me where to break chapters for maximum cliffie value and suggesting that we
take longer between posts.
*innocently evil grin* – if that’s possible.
Oh, as long as I’m slapping on more disclaimers than
a car advertisement, please note that because of the multi-threaded nature of
this tale, it happens some times that a few chapters will be more
Elrond-centric, Twins-centric or Woodelves-centric than our Aragorn &
Legolas fics usually are, but it really couldn’t be helped, so I hope you enjoy
anyway.
Well believe it or not this is a short header for us, so now... on with the
story!
___________________________________________________________
-Siege of
Dread-
___________________________________________________________
~*PART
~Gathering Clouds and Rays of Hope~
~~~~~~~~
You haunt me in my dreams
but I can never see your face
I hold you close through
but dawn leaves me no trace.
Is my heart searching for you,
or has it lost its way?
Dark portents cloud my vision,
have they led you astray?
--Cassia
~~~~~~~~
Cold.
Everything was so very cold. He
knew that’s what it was although the feeling was foreign, unfamiliar. He shivered.
That wasn’t right... something about this was wrong. Very wrong.
What was this place?
Was it the void? It could have
been. It felt that empty.
But no... it wasn’t empty. There were mountains; their dark shapes
barely discernable from the surrounding darkness. Evil.
There was great evil all around.
And there were others present... horrible creatures. Orcs and goblins.
Their fell voices rattled with the black speech, a
foul curse upon every breath they took.
They seemed pleased in a cruel sort of way; stirred up. They were sporting with something... nay,
someone.
Someone whom they had up against a cliff wall... it
seemed the being was in chains, but he couldn’t see the captive clearly through
the press of foul, reeking bodies. Yet
somehow he felt it was important that he know.
Who?
He felt his blood boil.
Who was being subjected so to such blatantly evil
whims?
He tried to move, to help... but found himself
utterly powerless to do so. He could do
nothing but sit there as the orcs jeered and strangled cries were wrung from
the unseen source.
The soft voice was pleading, broken, and eerily
familiar as it begged someone also unseen to let death take away the pain.
“I cannot endure with them
any longer. It is time for me to go, my
spirit has become too weary, I cannot abide here anymore. Please help me. Free me.
Do not leave me here with them.
Do not leave me at their mercy again...”
The plea rent his heart and made him choke. Yet he could not shake the feeling that the
voice was speaking to someone else. The
words were not meant for him, he was listening as an outsider... but an
outsider whose heart was breaking.
A strange flame of desperation burned in the pit of
his stomach, as if he knew this, as if he had seen it before and knew that he
wanted it to stop, even if he could not remember why.
The mottled, starless sky overhead disappeared and
it seemed that the world shrank and pulled in on itself, trapping him in the
inky blackness of a cave. Yet the
figures of the orcs remained the same, undeterred from their cruel games.
Suddenly the dark mass of orc bodies parted and
their prisoner was thrust forward.
His heart stopped.
Time stopped. Everything became
suddenly deathly silent as the orcs threw the bleeding blonde elf to the
ground.
“LEGOLAS!” his heart screamed in recognition, but it
was barely a trembling whisper on his lips as his son fell limply into his lap;
the younger elf’s golden hair spilling across the elf king’s legs like tattered
remnants of sunshine fading from sight in this darkened world.
Legolas’ head came to rest against his knees; the
prince’s glazed silver-blue eyes staring up into nothing.
“NO!
LEGOLAS!! What have you done to
him?! LEGOLAS!!”
Thranduil sat bolt upright in his bed, the cry still
on his lips. His hands were tangled in
the bed sheets next to him and his chest was heaving. Perspiration moistened his brow and made his
long blonde hair cling to his face.
He blinked at the familiar but unexpected sight of
his own chambers, bathed in the faint light of pre-dawn creeping in under the
long velvet drapes. His heart was still
hammering in his chest and it took him a few moments to rationalize what he was
seeing now with the gripping terror of only a few moments ago.
“Your majesty?” A concerned voice from the direction
of the doorway made Thranduil look up.
The Elvenking ran a shaking hand through his tousled hair, smoothing it
away from his face. His voice when he
answered was steady, although still slightly confused.
“Yes, Elrynd?
Is something wrong?”
Elrynd was in his dressing-gown still, standing in
the doorway and looking quite concerned.
“You cried out your Majesty... are you all
right?” Elrynd’s gaze was openly
worried. Elves did not usually suffer
from nightmares, being able to wander in dreams of their own choosing when they
lay down to rest on most occasions.
Therefore the king’s current condition was cause for confusion and mild
alarm from his loyal servant.
Thranduil let his breath out slowly, allowing the
last of the unfathomable terror to roll away from him.
“Yes, I’m fine Elrynd. I simply...” Thranduil did not finish his
sentence. How could he explain that he
had been having nightmares for over a year now?
No, not nightmares, he corrected himself. Nightmare,
singular. It was always the same one,
but in his dreams he never recognized it for what it was until after he
awakened. These horrible visions did not
come frequently, he had had it only a handful of times, but it was still a highly
disturbing occurrence.
The first time the dream came to him was nearly six
months after Legolas left on his journey south to visit Estel in Gondor a few
years ago. At that point the King had
been sorely tempted to send someone out to look for the Prince, to assure
himself that everything really was all right.
Reason had taken over in the end however. Thranduil had realized he had no idea *where*
in Gondor his son was heading and by the time any messenger covered the great
distance the prince would in all likelihood no longer have even been
there.
Time passed and Thranduil had just about convinced
himself that the dream had been nothing more than his subconscious mind
expressing its concern for his son’s safety since it seemed always that he got
into trouble whenever he went off with his human friend.
Then the dream returned.
Thranduil’s relief was unspeakable when the message
came from Rivendell a few months ago that Legolas and Estel had returned to
Imladris alive and well. The letter
hinted that they had some rather trying adventures behind them, but Lord Elrond
was nothing if not diplomatic and had obviously not wished to give a full
accounting in a letter, saying rather that Legolas would explain all when he
returned.
Legolas had included his own note in the
dispatches. He bid his father well, made
a jesting reference to whether or not his ketrals had yet become the side-dish
at a feast as his father had so often threatened whenever the small creatures
caused mischief, and said that he intended to stay in Rivendell for a time.
All seemed well, and yet Thranduil could not shake
the small feeling that there were things he ought to know that he did not.
The dream had come again that night.
Now, less than three months later, it returned once
more to haunt him. Never before had they
come so close together and Thranduil did not like this one bit.
The elf lord pushed the covers aside and swung his
legs off the edge of the bed. Elrynd was
still standing there, staring at him.
“I’m fine,” Thranduil repeated, much more in control
of himself now, his usual authoritative presence becoming clear once more. “Is there any word from the elves sent to
Imladris yet?”
Not long after the return of the nightmare,
Thranduil sent messengers across the mountains with responses to the letters he
had received, and some carefully worded prodding that he hoped would give him
some insight into what was plaguing him so.
The messengers did not return and a search party was
sent out for them.
As of right now, all of them were sorely
overdue. If this continued, Thranduil
was going to take matters into his own hands.
Elrynd nodded his head in assent, which surprised
the Elvenking, who had not expected an answer to the affirmative.
“Raniean returned late last night your highness...”
“What?” Thranduil rose swiftly, pulling a robe on
over his sleeping clothes. “Why wasn’t I
told? I said I wanted to be informed at
once if-”
Elrynd held up his hands in apology. “I am sorry your Majesty, but it was no more
than an hour or two ago and he was in no state to be able to speak to
anyone. He is with the healers; they put
him in one of the guestrooms for the time being. I was just coming to get you now when I heard
you call out.”
Thranduil nodded as he knotted his corded sash
around his waist to keep the robe shut.
“The healers? He is injured? What happened? What of the others?”
Elrynd’s face was grave. “He returned alone your Majesty. It appears that they were attacked by a great
host of goblins and wargs in the mountains.
The passes are not safe. He said
it is doubtful that the messengers they went in search of ever made it
through.”
Thranduil was already on his way down the hall
towards the guest chambers while Elrynd hurried along behind, explaining as
they went. The Elvenking’s expression
was troubled. These were not good
tidings.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Elrond stood quietly in the recesses of the far
north balcony of his home. Here the sun
touched the open veranda and warmed the cooling fall air.
Elrohir was stretched out upon the couch that faced
the balustrade, overlooking the Bruinen far below. The younger twin had fallen asleep on the
brocaded coverlet, his face turned towards the autumn sun. His chest rose and fell gently and he had
closed his eyes against the bright afternoon light. His lips were parted slightly in sleep and
the cool air had painted his cheeks a rosy pink. He stirred a little as some dream haunted his
rest, but quieted with a sigh as he settled back into deep slumber.
A shadow to his right alerted the elf lord that they
were not alone and he stepped forward.
Aragorn stalked quietly onto the balcony from the
stairwell that led down into the gardens below.
He knew that Elrohir had been spending a lot of time here lately and he
fully intended to surprise his brother, hoping to lighten his spirit. Elrohir had despaired of late when his
hearing did not return as quickly as he had thought it would. Withdrawing from their usual activities, he
had separated himself from the others and pulled inside himself. This grieved Aragorn and he knew it was
almost eating Elladan alive although the older elf was trying not to admit as
much.
“Estel,” Elrond called to his human son, stopping
the man in his tracks. “Don’t my son. It
will only scare him.”
Aragorn swiveled in surprise towards the sound of
the voice. “
The elf lord left his vigil and walked out into the
sun.
“What are you doing here?” The human asked softly.
“There is no need to whisper.” Elrond drew the man with him to a bench
against the wall of the house. His gaze
trailed back to the sleeping elf. “He can’t hear you.”
Aragorn sighed as he took a seat next to his
father. “I know. But you and Gandalf both said you thought it
was only a matter of time, surely soon...” the ranger’s voice trailed off at
the pained expression on his father’s face as Elrond shook his head.
“That is what I *thought* Estel, and I still do
hope. The sad fact however, is that his
hearing is only a little better after all this time and he is not dealing with
it well. He suffers from bouts of
dizziness also; they sap his strength.
Elves are not used to feeling ill.
I think right now a surprise would not be the best thing for him.” The elf lord smiled softly in Elrohir’s
direction before turning back to look into the silver eyes that watched him
quietly.
Aragorn’s gaze flickered from his fathers to the
sleeping form before resting on the blue eyes once more. “I only meant to cheer him. It worries me that he does not go out with us
anymore. I wish he would realize that we
do not care whether he can hear us or not, we just want to be together. Is there nothing else we can do for him,
“There is one more thing that I have not tried,” the
elf lord admitted slowly. “I was going
to suggest it to him, but when I found him sleeping out here I had not the
heart to wake him. It’s been a long time
since I have found him curled up asleep on this balcony.” A smile spread across Elrond’s lips and he
looked across the rift. His gaze did not
perceive what was before them now, straying instead across the recollections of
what had been.
“This was my wife’s favorite place in the
autumn. We could always find her out
here enjoying the sun in the late afternoons.
She claimed it was the warmest spot in the house during fall. As a child, Elrohir would join her
often. Sitting at her feet with a book
or a toy, as contented being here as she was.”
With a sigh the elf blinked slowly and it was apparent that he was once
more in the present.
“He and Elladan are twins.” His gaze settled once more on the dark haired
elf, “Identical in nearly everything and inseparable. It used to be hard for me to tell them apart. But as they grew older they developed their
own personalities. Elladan hides his
fears and what he perceives as his weaknesses in controlling the situations
around him, and sometimes the people.” the elf lord glanced at the human next
to him with a fond smile. He placed his
arm around the ranger’s shoulders, staring into the attentive eyes. “He has taken up the role of protector,
acting as the firstborn that he in fact is.
Sometimes he takes his role too far.” A small laugh escaped the older
elf. “His heart is soft but he hides
it. Elrohir, however, never could. His tenderheartedness has ever been his
greatest strength and his greatest weakness.”
Aragorn watched his brother as the elf slept. He knew that Elladan was the more stubborn,
strong headed of the two. Sometimes his
over protectiveness had irritated the ranger and yet there were times that he
welcomed it, a reminded of home, of safety.
But Elrohir had always been the one he had gone to when he had hurt
himself or woken in the night afraid when Elrond was away. It hurt his heart to see his brother
withdrawing and pulling away from them like he was.
He started slightly when Elrond began speaking
again, pulled out of his reverie by the elf’s deep soft voice.
“When Celebrìan left, it nearly broke his
heart. He knew she could not stay and
yet he was torn in letting her go alone.
He very nearly left with her.
I... I almost expected him to, as much as that thought hurt. I never
could be sure he didn’t stay simply to spare me further loss,” Elrond
sighed. “For weeks I would find him out
here, tears rolling his face. He said he
could feel her more here than anywhere else in the house. Wounds fade in time, even for elves, but some
more slowly than others. Elrohir feels
deeply, but his spirit is too light and free to remain bound by sorrow
forever. Still... it was not so very
long ago as we reckon time. Then you
came along. Many years had already
passed, but I think your being here did his heart more good than any of us
expected. Often were the nights I would
find the two of you in your bed because he had stayed when your nightmares
returned.” Elrond smiled down at the
human next to him.
“I remember that.” Aragorn laughed softly, “He
always came back into my room with me.
Elladan was harder to wake up than Elrohir and for some reason he could
never understand what I was saying in the middle of the night. Elrohir was quick to wake up and always
quieted my fears. He would sing to me,
tell me stories, make me laugh and stay until I fell I asleep.”
“Yes.” Elrond’s smile widened. “He loved having a child in the house. In many ways in his heart I still think he is
one. They both are, but he would
probably admit to it more readily than Elladan.” Elrond smiled faintly. “Elladan would rather be the mother, that is
how his heart heals, but Elrohir... Elrohir would rather be the child.”
Aragorn chuckled slightly. “Maybe that is why they compliment each other
so perfectly.”
With a small answering smile the elf lord rose, “I
think I shall wake him and see if he would like to try this treatment. I have
only heard of it, never preformed it or had reason to.” Elrond glanced back at his human son, “Would
you like to help me?”
With a nod Aragorn rose also, walking to the
balustrade and watching as his father sat quietly on the large couch. “Elrohir?”
Elrohir didn’t stir.
It broke the elf lord’s heart as the twin slept on. He moved forward to touch his son and wake
him when Aragorn interrupted.
“
“What are you thinking, my son?” Elrond turned back
and watched the ranger but Estel was intent on the twin.
“This is something I have been wondering about...”
Aragorn’s voice trailed off and a smile spread across his face, “There...see?”
Elrohir stirred slightly, his right hand easing up
in front of him as if to ward someone off.
Gently he rested his palm on his father’s leg, his consciousness
registering that someone was near. A
second later, grey eyes opened and squinted questioningly up at the elf lord.
“
Elrond smiled at the twin before frowning slightly
at Aragorn. “How did you know?”
“What?”
Elrohir questioned softly.
“Not you.”
Elrond glanced back at the human again causing Elrohir to follow his
gaze, “Your brother.”
“A hunch.” Aragorn
shrugged, “Something I’ve been noticing lately.”
“What are you talking about?” Elrohir’s confusion was growing by the
minute. He sat up, brushing the long
dark strands of hair away from his face.
His braids had come undone in his sleep and he pushed the wayward locks
out of his eyes.
“You.” Aragorn deadpanned as he stared at his
brother, “What else is there to talk about?”
With a snort of derision Elrohir shook his head, but
the human’s smile was mirrored on the elven face.
“No, really?”
He asked again.
“No, *really*!” Aragorn answered with a chuckle.
“Enough of this you two.” Elrond stopped the banter,
giving his youngest a stern look. “I
expect you to explain what you are going on about when we get inside.”
“What is it
Elrond turned his attention back to the elf next to
him. The gentle touch to his arm by the
twin caught at his heart as Elrohir tried to keep up with the two of them.
With a so