Title: Agarval
Author: Phoenix
Email: Sherry_Crossan@yahoo.ca
Rating: AU - This story contains violence (after all it is Middle Earth and orcs rarely give wedgies) and there is implied, but not graphic, rape.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to any of Tolkien’s characters except my original ones. I am only borrowing them for a little tale and will return them in fairly reasonable shape (LOL)
Thank
you Tolkien for your mind. It has been a pleasure to visit….
The elves rode almost soundlessly through the lush green woods of Rivendell. Around them the trees sighed in happy contentment, feeling privileged to gaze down upon them. The birth of a firstborn was an occasion to be marked, particularly when it was one of royal blood – as was the sleeping babe that now passed beneath them silently, safely nestled against his mother’s bosom.
The newborn was the first child of King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great and his beautiful wife, Queen Selestriel, of Lothlorien.
Named Legolas, Greenleaf, the child represented the hope and love that his parents had for Middle Earth and their contribution to the world around them. And as the trees whispered excitedly, they were even more happy that the King had allowed his young heir and new mother to traverse among them to Imladris to spend some time with her childhood friend, Celebrian wife of Elrond, Lord of Imladris.
Celebrian and Elrond had twin sons, Elladan (the older by at least a minute) and Elrohir, and her own toddling daughter, Arwen. Selestriel was looking forward to her friend’s guidance as she embraced her new role as a mother, while Celebrian was looking forward to seeing her old friend and of seeing the newborn heir of Greenwood the Great. She felt that great things were to come from this one.
* * *
Lord Elrond, son of Earendil and Elwing, could not help but smile as he watched his normally very well composed wife as she paced back and forth in anticipation of the Queen’s coming, her excitement very difficult to contain.
“My light, you will wear a hole in the floor”, he could not restrain from saying as she turned her ethereal gaze upon him and returned the smile making his heart jump from her attention, “My Lord, I am sorry if my anxiousness is causing you concern, but I have not seen Sele in a very long time…” her eyes glazed over in the fondness of the memory, “not since ‘Dan and ‘Ro were infants.”
Elrond caught the memory and embraced it as he closed his eyes and let out a soft reminiscent sight, “It has been a long time… even for the Edar.”
A shrill cry drew their attention from the past and Elrond shook his head chuckling as his ageless wife ran out the door and stood on the front steps, her luminescent eyes scanning the skies until they lit on the figure of a brown hunting falcon. Turning to her husband, Celebrian’s smile was a light in his heart, “They come Elrond!” She recognized the bird of prey as of being one from the great forest …and constant companion to the royals.
Moments later the sound of horses drawing near brought their sons from the inner halls of the Last Homely Home. Dark haired like their father, Elladan and Elrohir were as excited as their mother to see the Queen of Greenwood the Great.
“Now boys”, their father spoke as if the twins were still youngsters, which compared to him, they were. Although they had seen more then a millennia pass, “Selestriel is a Queen. I expect you to be on your best behavior…both of you, “ his eyebrow raised to still the protest from Elrohir who considered himself the twin dragged into trouble…instead of instigating it.
Elladan bowed slightly hiding his small smile at the look of indignation on his brother’s face, “You need not worry Ada…Ata, we will give you cause to be proud.”
Celebrian reached out and gently stroked first his face and then his brothers, “Elladan…you and your brother always give us reason for pride.”
Blushing slightly, both twins couldn’t help but stand a little straighter under their mother’s praise.
The outrider for the royal party entered the courtyard and stopped. Gracefully, he slide from the horse and crossed the courtyard in a couple of long strides before stopping before the Lord and Lady of Imladris bowing, “My Lord…my Lady, I am Theros of the woodland realm and humbly ride to announce the coming of the Queen and Prince of Greenwood the Great. Is their welcome warm?”
It was a standard greeting for an outrider and was a safety protocol. If for some reason it was not safe for the royals in Imladris… but the Lord could not say such, he was given the opportunity to warn them away without being overt about it. The extent of his warning would be evident in his choice of response.
But there was no such concern in Rivendell so Elrond smiled and bid the wood-elf to stand, “Their welcome is awaited with great anticipation.”
Nodding in understanding, the elf turned and quickly remounted his horse and left the courtyard. It was all formality but beside him, Elrond couldn’t help but notice that Celebrian had tensed slightly as if afraid that he would say the wrong thing and the outrider would warn the royals away.
Reaching over he clasped his wife’s slender hand in his own and said quietly, “Peace fairest being, your Queen is coming.”
Moments later the royal guard of Thranduil’s court silently rode into the courtyard but Celebrian did not notice them. Her eyes were fixed on the raven-haired beauty atop a milk white mare. .
“Selestriel!”
Elrond actually jumped as his wife seemed transformed right in front of him into a young girl as she cried out her friend’s name and bounded down the steps and towards the other.
“Celebrian!”
The Queen was no better and as her eyes lit on the golden haired she-elf, she was off her horse and flew across the stones with such speed that even her royal escort could not stop her. It was a good thing they knew the history between them or they might have been extremely concerned.
Locked in a firm embrace, tears were shed as they kept touching each other’s faces… afraid none of this was real.
“Are they okay?” Elrohir asked his father tentatively as he had never seen his mother act this way before and he was sure, from the looks on the royal escort, that neither had they.
Elrond chuckled quietly as he spoke to reassure his sons, “Worry not my sons…this is nothing. Wait until they get to the babes.”
As if they heard Elrond’s sentiment, Celebrian reluctantly pulled herself away from her friend so she could give her a once over. Satisfied that Selestriel seemed none the worse for wear from her trip, her dark blue eyes darted around in anticipation as she said softly, “Where is your prince mellon-min? I am in anticipation of the young Thranduilion.”
Selestriel smiled shyly and turned back to her escort, “Methos”, she said and an older elf stepped forward. In his arms was a small securely wrapped bundle. The Queen had given her child to the head of the Royal Guard outside the city walls in anticipation of such an enthusiastic greeting…and in fear that she would drop him in her own excitement.
Smiling softly, Methos gently passed the young prince back to his mother. Celebrian had returned to her place beside her husband, as protocol dictated and the Queen pulled away the soft blanket from the baby’s face and bowed slightly to the Lord and Lady as she said formally, “My Lord…my Lady. I am honored to present to you… here in the fair city of Imladris in Rivendell at the house of Elrond…Legolas…Greenleaf, Prince of Greenwood the Great.”
The blanket came away from the face to reveal the cherubic tiny face of the son of Thranduil. Bright sky blue eyes peered up into the face of the Noldor elves as the young prince cooed up at them charmingly.
Elrond could not resist and put his finger out to the small waving fist that had gotten free of the swathing and the baby gripped it immediately. Smiling, he took in the bright eyes that met his and was warmed by the depth of warmth and compassion he saw in little one.
“He is beautiful”, Elrond complimented in truth as he smiled down at the toothless smile, “and is as if Thranduil had been born again”. Which was true as while Selestriel had dark hair and eyes, her son had the golden blond hair and a glow to him so much like his father.
Selestriel blushed, pleased that Elrond gave his approval to her son. She had loved and worshipped Elrond as an older brother since she had first met him and knew he was the only one good enough for her best friend.
“Enough of the formalities”, Celebrian said unable to contain herself any longer, “Give me that baby!” Everyone laughed as the Queen meekly passed her child to her best friend and watched for a few moments as the Lady of Imladris fussed over him delighting in the way he stared intently into her unfamiliar face. She was the first she-elf that he had ever seen with golden hair and he seemed transfixed by her. And then Selestriel turned to greet the twins amazed at how much they have grown.
“Well your highness”, Elladan said trying to sound serious, “elflings have a perchance for doing that when it had been over a thousand years since your fair eyes have lit on them.”
Elrohir gasped in shock at his brother’s jibe even as the Queen laughed and grabbed them both into a tight hug, “So much like your mother…I have missed you…both.” And then letting them go, she glanced around before asking, “And where is littlest Lady of the manor? Arwen? I have yet to lit my eyes on her.” Selestriel glanced mischievously at the twins as she said that.
“She is sleeping”, Celebrian said as she looked up from the baby’s face and smiled, “her brother’s wore her out earlier then usual this morning.” The twins grinned sheepishly but said nothing even as their father wrapped an arm around his wife and her friend, “We are forgetting our manners. Come fair Queen, there is much more to our house then this courtyard.” He caught his son’s gaze and they read his request.
“We will make sure the escort is attended to”, Elladan called over his shoulder as he and Elrohir headed towards the Royal Guards who were standing on vigil behind the royals.
* * *
“Thranduil sends his regrets”, Selestriel said a little while later after she had a chance to freshen up and now joined the Lord and Lady in the Great Room where the fire burned brightly. The baby was asleep nestled against his mother in the way that only babies can, “but we’ve had some dragon problems lately…and then there’s dwarves…always the dwarves.”
Elrond smiled as he shook his head – some things never change, “A king’s job is one that rarely affords a holiday.”
Selestriel couldn’t help but laugh, “Not an elven holiday anyway!”
“Ata?” the sound of a small elfling’s voice caused the adults to turn towards the doorway where a small elf of no more then 2 years old stood holding onto a tattered blanket. Immediately Celebrian moved across the room and picked the child up giving her a warm hug and kiss on the top of her head, “Arwen we have special guests.”
Carrying the little elf towards the Queen, Celebrian pulled a stool over and sat down on it carefully cradling the blurry eyed toddler, “Arwen this is Queen Selestriel. She is my friend from when I was a little elfling…no bigger then you.” Arwen’s beautiful liquid eyes widened in shock, as she had never imagined that at one time her mother was a small elfing like herself. Celebrian laughed as she saw the wonder on her daughter’s face and continued, “And see the little baby. That is Prince Legolas. He is her little elfling.”
Arwen reached out a small hand towards the sleeping baby before looking tentatively up at the elf her mother had called a Queen. When Selestriel smiled and pulled the blanket away from the baby for her to get a better look, the beautiful dark haired elfling gently touched the baby’s cheek. The baby turned his head towards her touch and smiled in his sleep delighting the other elfling.
Her wide eyes turned to her mother as she said in an awed voice, “Can we keep him?”
This made the other grown elves around her laugh fondly and Elrohir was the first to respond, “Nay Arwen, I do not think even the likes of myself and ‘Dan could keep two elflings out of trouble!”
His eyes reflected the deep devotion that both he and his older twin had for the little elf and she immediately turned from the baby and launched herself at her brother squealing in delight, “Ro! Let’s play!”
“Ssh! The baby’s sleeping!” Celebrian scolded even as the twins were already trying to catch the little elfing that was now running at full speed towards the front door, “Don’t let her bother the Greenwood warriors!’
Selestriel watched the three young elves run out the door and shook her head in amazement, “Oh Celebrian – she is so beautiful. But honestly, my dearest friend, did none of your children favor your fairness? They are all as dark as their father.” Elrond cocked up his eyebrow at the jesting comment but said nothing.
Celebrian smiled fondly as she turned back to her friend, “Ai Selestriel…you are one to talk. Your own son looks more like mine then he does yours. But who are we to question the ways of the Valar?”
Elrond listened to the old friends as they chatted on for a while longer about
their children and other things. He did not say much but delighted in the
feelings that he felt from the two. It was nice to see Celebrian in such
freeness as she was now with Selestriel. Good friends have a way of giving one
a lightness that one sometimes forgets they possess.
When the baby stirred, Elrond offered to take him for a tour of the city to allow them some private time and Selestriel graciously accepted.
“Well young prince”, Elrond said later as they sat together on the banks of the Bruinen and he looked down into the serene little face, “what do you think of all this?”
Legolas gurgled and grinned up widely into the dark blue eyes that smiled down at him, “Oh really…all that?” Elrond said arching an eyebrow as if the baby had said something witty.
“Elrond!” the sound of his name made the Lord of Imladris look up in time to see a tall dark haired elf coming towards him.
“Peace Lucian is something the matter?” he asked as he saw a scowl on the other Lord’s face. Lord Lucian was like a brother to him and had recently come to stay as his guest at the Last Homely Home. In that short time, he had become a trusted advisor and confidant to Elrond.
Lucian started to say something and then his eyes stopped on the small elf nestled comfortably in the crook of Elrond’s arm, “Is that a baby?” His voice rang in disbelief as he searched his memory for any mention of a baby born… but to his knowledge, Arwen was the youngest elf in Rivendell…well until this one anyway.
Elrond laughed at the look on Lucian’s face, “Lord Lucian may I have the honor of presenting Prince Legolas of Greenwood the Great, Thranduilon, and guest of Imladris.” Then sounding less formal, he added, “he and his mother are staying as guests of my wife’s as the Queen and my lady are long time friends.”
Understanding filtered across Lucian’s face along with something else that Elrond couldn’t place but before he could ask about it, Lucian turned from the baby, “Of course, forgive me for being impertinent, however I was distracted as I had only just seen the wood realm warriors and feared the worst. But…” his gaze traveled back down to the baby, “ now I understand.”
The baby stirred and whimpered softly beneath the other Lord’s gaze and Elrond looked down at him with concern, “What is wrong little one? Are you missing your mother?”
Lucian gave the baby one more curious look and the baby started to cry. Elrond cradled him to his chest as he deftly stood up and excused himself from Lucian, “I must take my leave…the wants of an elfling only get louder with time.”
The older Lord nodded his acquiescence and watched as Elrond and the infant prince made their way back to the house. A dark thought was forming in his mind and he followed behind them at a slower pace as he considered its merit.
It might just work…
* * *
Four Years Later:
As with elves whose concept of time is much different then a mortals, four years passed in the blink of an eye before Selestriel felt the need to go back to Greenwood. She loved her time in the house of Elrond and relished watching her young prince grow amongst Celebrian’s own children who treated the prince like he was their brother.
Elladan and Elrohir taught him many important little elfling things while Arwen was always there to kiss his boo-boos and scold her brothers when she thought they were being too rough. And Legolas flourished under their attention.
But as with all things, it soon came time to go home.
“LEGOLAS!” Elrohir shouted although he knew the little elf could easily hear him from wherever he was hiding this time. The little prince did not want to leave and he was making this more difficult then it already was. The twins did not enjoy rounding him up to go but they knew he had to.
Selestriel was already mounted and waited for her son to join her. Her large brown hunting falcon, Adria rested comfortingly on her forearm although it too was restless to return home. 4 years for a bird was a long time.
“ Ai-Dulan where have you flown to this time?” Elladan whispered to himself. “Little Bird” was the nickname they had given the little prince when it became clear that he was one whose feet were never meant to touch the ground. The elfling loved heights and took refuge in the darnedest of places.
Lord Elrond spotted the missing elf first and smiled to himself not really surprised at where he had gotten himself.
“Ahem”, he said clearing his throat loudly and when the twins looked at him he cast his eyes upward towards the top of the largest tree that stood just shy of the courtyard. The young prince was glumly sitting near the top on branches that would never support the weight of anyone bigger. Catching on immediately, the twins quickly swung up into the tree and climbed about halfway up. They did not go any further but took a seat on a couple of stout secure limbs.
And then they just waited. The young prince had to make this decision for himself and the twins knew they could not push him. The last thing they wanted for their young friend to feel was like he was no longer welcome in Rivendell.
Legolas watched the twins. Beneath them he could see his mother was still talking to Lady Celebrian as she patiently waited her little prince out. His eyes locked onto those of Adria who had been watching him since he had taken flight into the tree. The hunting bird was curious but did not give him away – although he knew all his mother had to do was but to ask and the bird would fly right to him.
After a fair time, a small soft voice reached the twins ears, “Will you forget me?”
Elladan was stunned. Neither he nor his brother had realized that one of Legolas’s deepest concerns about leaving Imladris was that his dear friends, brothers to him by now, would forget him.
“Nay mellon-nim, to forget you would be forget a part of myself,” his own voice was equally soft but he knew the little elfling could easily hear him.
Elrohir shook his head in denial as well, “Little prince, how could we forget you? You are in here, “ he touched his chest lightly, “and once you are in here…you are in forever.”
Legolas did not say anything for a few minutes as if contemplating what they were saying. They never heard him move down from his perch until he was standing almost next to him. Elladan concealed a smile, the youngster was more at home in a tree then even an elf should be…sometimes it was just eerie.
“Really?” his voice asked and the twins turned so he could see into their faces and realize the depth of their sincerity.
“Really”, twin voices chorused and with a big smile Legolas threw himself at the twins who caught and held him as if to never let him go. In truth this was harder on them then it could ever be on him.
Finally he pulled away and looked into the dark haired faces with his wide blue eyes, “You will come and visit won’t you?”
Elladan reached out to ruffle the soft golden hair as he puffed out his chest and said, “I’d like to meet the elf who’d try and stop us!”
This made the young prince laugh and now that he was reassured that his dear Rivendell family would not forget him, he was ready to go home. In truthfulness, he really did want to see his father.
* * *
Celebrian stood next to Elrond and watched the royal party leave the courtyard. Selestriel turned back one more time and waved good-bye to her friends. Adria screeched from his perch on her arm and with a little rear up onto her hindquarters, the white horse broke into a canter taking the Queen quickly out of Imladris her long black hair flowing behind her like a cape.
Legolas’s voice could be heard laughing as he raced to keep up with his mother. He was still too young to ride by himself and as he ran past Methos, the head of the royal escort snagged him and lifted high up onto his large horse and seated the elfing down in front of him.
The young prince’s protests could be heard plainly even after the elves rode out of sight and it filled the Rivendell elves with warmth as they laughed before turning away to go back into the Last Homely House.
…But A-t-a…I’m a big elf now…
Celebrian paused as she turned back once more to look to where her friend had just disappeared. A tightness gripped her heart and she had a horrible foreboding that that was the last time she would ever see Selestriel again.
As if sensing her premonition, Elrond placed a comforting arm around her shoulders and led her into the house, “Come my Light…the hour is waning away.”
Reluctantly the Lady of Imladris allowed herself to be led away…
* * *
“You can take that up with your father when we get home,” the elf Queen laughed as the young one continued his adamant protests about having to ride with an escort.
Grumbling under his breath about not being able to do anything, the young prince settled back against the strong embrace of the warrior and let the easy gait of the horse lull him to sleep. Selestriel glanced over and smiled softly as she saw her son fade into the elven dreamland.
“Big elf indeed, your highness”, Methos couldn’t help but remark as he caught her glance and Selestriel laughed musically as she answered, “The young dream of age while the aged dream of youth, “ then leaning over her horse’s arched neck, she patted the mare gently as she whispered, “Come Nar’loki, we will soon have the Greenwood giants to greet us…let’s make haste.” The mare responded immediately and broke into a canter, the rest of the other horses matched her strides, as they were all anxious to be going home.
* * *
The Queen was humming to herself when the first creature attacked.
* * *
The sound of a piercing screech filled Imladris and brought the house of Elrond to the courtyard. Celebrian felt her heart lunge out of her very breast as a large brown hunting falcon dove towards them.
She recognized it immediately.
Adria.
“Something’s happened to Sele”, she barely whispered as the large bird swooped and dived around their heads impatiently wanting them to follow. And then her world blurred and she dropped soundlessly to the ground.
* * *
The Rivendell elves, led by Elladan and Elrohir, flew out of the city as their horses sensing their urgency, seemed to have grown wings in their frantic race to reach the Greenwood envoy in time.
In time for what, they had no idea but the bird allowed no doubt in their minds that whatever it was…it was not good.
* * *
“SELESTRIEL!” Celebrian screamed as she bolted up from the bed that Elrond had gently moved her to. He was shaken when she had fainted and his relief at seeing her recovery was only marred by her distress upon waking.
“Peace, my Light…warriors led by your own sons are racing to the Queen as we speak,” the Lord of Imladris watched his wife with appraising eyes, “How do you feel?”
“Oh… my lord.” Celebrian said softly in a voice filled with anguish and not concerned for herself, “I fear it is already too late. I saw her…she…she is passing.” Elrond did not say anything although he closed his eyes at the distressing news. His heart knew she was right.
For as soon as Adria’s cry filled his ears, his heart was allowed a glimpse of the horror that had befallen the wood-elves as a darkness that crept over his soul. Something wicked was close by and it had been hidden from him.
Hidden by whom, he did not know but it was powerful and it had been able to blind his super keen senses from detecting it. And even more vexing, it had muzzled the usually lose tongues of the world around them. The trees had not whispered even one word of danger…if they had Elrond would never have allowed the royals to leave.
“You must leave me”, Celebrian said as she stared deeply into her husband’s tranquil face. He always had a serene calming effect on her and could give her strength when she felt she had none, “They need you.”
Elrond started to protest although he knew she was right. If any of the their woodland kin survived, they would be in need of a healer beyond those capabilities of his own sons. However she stopped him with a gentle finger upon his lips, “Nay Elrond…Legolas needs you. My heart cannot take losing them both.”
Elrond’s gaze locked firmly upon her own. She was right and as he thought about the dark shadows falling upon the fair young prince, he gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek before standing up, “May Valar be kind to the young this day, fair wife. Rest easy.”
And then with quick powerful strides, the Lord of Imladris left the house.
“Hang on ai-taren… hang on little prince,” Celebrian whispered to herself as she closed her eyes and tried to focus her own life energy on the elfling. She could feel his peril and his heartache…his blue eyes were wide with pain and horror…it hurt her to see but she would not look away. It was all she could do.
* * *
The twins and the contingent that rode with them quickly found the Greenwood elves locked in mortal combat with creatures, the likes of which the elves had never seen before. They were as hideous as orcs but more twisted if that was possible. The worst being that they seemed unaffected by daylight!
Time was a privilege they did not have, so without much reflection, the Rivendell elves joined the fray. At least these foul creatures died as orcs did... that was something, anyway.
Elladan and Elrohir covered each other as their eyes searched the area for signs of the Queen or Prince and were disturbed to find none. But then they heard a voice that froze the blood in their veins as it was a voice that while they knew well, they had never heard it as such before. Legolas.
“ATA!!!!”
Beheading and slashing their way around the creatures, the twins made their ways towards the screams and then stopped in shock at the sight before them.
The young prince had been run through with a blade which pierced his shoulder and pinned him to the earth as his mother, swaying and bloodied, crouched over him with her hands held out in front of her in an attempt to protect him from the creature that was, even as they watched, bringing down his knife to kill them both.
Faster then sight, Elladan’s arrow, followed equally quickly by Elrohir’s, was notched and released, striking the creature even as another elf crashed into it from the side. The onslaught was too much as it fell to the side, dead. Its blade harmless on the ground.
“My… Queen!” Methos rasped as he tried to pull himself up off the ground. He was grievously hurt and had only managed to get his senses enough to attack the creature at the last moment possible. His relief at the twins’ timely intervention was evident as he cast his eyes up to them briefly before turning back to the royals.
Elladan dropped down beside them as Elrohir kept guard. The fray had taken a quick turn in their favor once the creatures realized reinforcements had arrived for the elves and they disappeared into the trees as quietly as they had come.
The Queen didn’t answer her guard as she turned back to her son.
“Legolas?” her voice, still as ever beautiful and melodic, hid the severity of her own wounds as Selestriel focused all her attention and life on the small elf that was still pinned by the horrid blade. The elfling writhed with agony even as his mother’s gentle hands tried to still his movements, “Hush, little one. Don’t move…”
Wide blue eyes locked firmly onto his mother’s as she smiled down gently at him,” meleth-min, everything will be all right.”
“We need to remove the blade”, Elladan said softly as he did a quick appraisal of the young prince’s injuries. The Queen gave a faint nod of understanding as Legolas turned to look at him as if realizing for the first time that the twins were there.
“El…” he started to say but it turned into a harsh cough and the older elves’ concern intensified as the cough brought blood up the young prince’s mouth. Elrohir looked down and paled as he realized just how badly wounded Legolas was. The elfling was bleeding internally… they would lose him soon if they didn’t’ take immediate action.
Methos moved to help steady the young prince and keep him from moving as Elladan prepared to remove the blade. He knew this was going to be extremely painful for the little elf he thought of as a brother, and it made his heart lurch knowing he would be the one causing it. But if he didn’t…then they would lose the elfing for sure…there was no other choice.
Elrohir glanced at his twin offering him his quiet support because he knew how hard this would be for Elladan.
“Ata…” Legolas’s voice was weak as he fought to stay focused on her face. His body involuntarily shuddered as he was suddenly very cold and found it difficult to keep his eyes open. He was going into shock.
“Stay with us Ai-Dulan”, Elladan said quietly as he carefully took hold of the knife and prepared to pull it out. Selestriel laid a comforting hand on her son’s tear stained cheek then nodded briefly. On her signal, Methos tightened his grip on the young prince as Elladan quickly pulled the blade from his small body.
Legolas screamed and lurched upwards with the new pain. His mother grabbed him firmly to her bosom even as she pressed her hands on his back to try and stop the flow of blood from the wound. The blade had gone right thru his small body. Elladan stripped pieces of material from his cloak and the Queen pressed it firmly to the gaping wound in his chest as Elladan took over ministering to the wound on his back.
Together they worked fervently to save Legolas’s life, as the young prince lay limp in his mother’s arms.
As they worked behind him, Elrohir’s keen eyes roamed the battlefield and his heart was saddened by what he saw. Except for Methos, who now tended the young prince with his mother and Elladan, the rest of Greenwood elves had been slain. The only elves that moved around him were the contingent that had ridden with them from Imladris.
The sound of an approaching horse drew him from his reverie as the other Noldor elves formed a protective ring around the royals. Moments later, the tension left the warriors as they recognized the rider as Lord Elrond.
“Oh thank the valar”, Elladan hissed as he heard his father’s voice. They were losing Legolas… no matter what they did, the little elf’s blood continued to stain their hands.
“Sweet Eru,” Elrond whispered as he deftly dismounted and knelt down beside his oldest son. His skilled eyes quickly appraised the situation before turning towards the Queen. He knew what he would find even before catching her gaze.
Gently he tried to pull Legolas from her chest but she held tight and shook her head softly, “Nay my Lord Elrond. There is nothing you can do for me. It is beyond even you.” Methos blanched when he heard his fair Queen’s voice, as did the twins. They suspected that the Queen was injured but had no idea just how badly, “Please…save my son.”
Elrond wanted to argue but as he searched deep within the elvenqueen’s soul, he saw what he already suspected – she was dying and there was nothing he could do to save her. She was using what strength she had left to pour into her son and as Elrond’s perception saw the link between her and the young prince, he realized that it was only through her strength that the young one still lived.
Her eyes beseeched his urgently, “Please my Lord… I will give him to you…only if you save him. It is my time.” And there in lay the dilemma… and the reason why she would not give her son to the healer when he first tried to take him. She needed to know that he would heal her son… and not her.
None of the other elves possessed the power that Elrond did…not even his young sons, and she knew that without his strength one of them would have to be lost.
Her fear caused her to doubt his intent as she was sure his love for his wife would make him choose her life over Legolas’s. And she couldn’t allow that. She would only give the elfling to him when she was sure that he would not try and save them both.
Elrond frowned with the knowledge that she was right. His devotion to Celebrian…and his own fondness for Selestriel would have him choose her over the prince…no matter how much like his own, the young elfling was.
Either choice was horrible as the loss of either fair being was something he was not prepared to deal out…however, the Queen was right. They both needed Elrond’s strength and so he had to make a choice.
He just prayed to the valar that he would make the right one…and that the King could forgive him either way.
With a silent nod, he held out his arms to take the child again.
The words would haunt Elrond forever…thank you for letting me die…
The ride back to Imladris was the longest one in Elrond’s life…and considering how old he was, that was something to say. It took all his strength to keep the elfling alive, as his own heart was heavy with the knowledge that while he poured his life into Legolas, Selestriel’s own was fading away.
Daring a glance over his shoulder, he saw the beautiful elvenqueen sitting in front of Elladan. She was smiling at him and it made his breath catch in his throat as overwhelming sadness drank the tears on his cheeks.
Her green velvet dress hid the blood that soaked it but one did not need to see the blood to know she was fading. The faint glow that gave elves their ethereal radiance was dimming and her large expressive eyes stood out against the stark paleness of her face as long dark hair framed her pallor.
She would not live to see Imladris.
“M-my…Lord…” her quivering voice made Elrond slow his horse and turn to her. Reaching between the two horses, Selestriel stroked the golden locks of her unconscious child lovingly. The knowledge that his path and her own were no longer bound in life brought silver tears to her otherwise tranquil face.
Placing her hand on his back, she closed her eyes and focused her remaining strength in this one last gesture…it was something to leave her son…something he would always feel and remember whenever he thought about her
… aminmela lle…I love you…
The feelings of warmth and love flowed through the unconscious elfling and even in his slumber, it brought a smile to his small perfect mouth.
…Ata…mother… the word escaped his lips as a breath but to the soul leaving the body, they were as if the elf had stood on the top of the world and screamed it.
And in that moment, the halls of Mandos welcomed a Queen.
* * *
King Thranduil awoke with a start. His eyes quickly prowled his chamber in search of whatever had drove him from his sleep but the large room was dark and nothing moved.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and laid his head back down when suddenly a small smile played across his timeless face. Selestriel. He could almost smell her intoxicating scent as his thoughts roamed to his beautiful wife. They would be back any day now and Thranduil was both excited and nervous to see his wife and son again after their trip.
Legolas would have grown so much now…and Selestriel.
Thinking of his wife again brought a wider smile to his face. Oh how she would light a room with just her appearance. The palace had sorely missed both her and the babe.
…Thranduil…
The king opened his eyes as he heard his voice. Was he dreaming? It sounded like Selestriel but that did not make sense. They would not travel back during the night…not with a small elfling among them.
He heard the voice again and this time he jumped from his bed and rushed to the window. He was positive it was his wife’s voice.
“Selestriel?” he said tentatively and then he saw someone standing near the edge of the forest. Peering intently through the darkness…his heart felt as if it would leap from his very mouth – it was Selestriel!
As if an elfing instead of a mature king, Thranduil leapt from his window and landed deftly on his feet before bolting towards the spot he saw his wife standing.
Behind him, stunned palace guards started to follow him wondering if their king had suddenly gone mad.
Just as he got close to the edge of the trees, he stopped. Selestriel was no longer in sight.
“Selestriel?” he whispered wondering what madness made his mind see a Queen where there was none. Surely, she would not run from him?
The trees around him rustled and his ears picked up their voices, aged and sad as they sang in a lament that twisted his heart.
They sang of the passing of one whose beauty would never again glow in their limbs or shimmer beneath their feet.
The King listened in earnest as he closed his eyes and focused on their song until it was as if they were shouting it to him. Hot tears burned his cheeks even before he heard their refrain…they lamented the loss of the elvenqueen.
Suddenly he felt a gentle hand on his cheek and opening his eyes, he looked once one into the warm liquid ones of his Queen. Reaching up, he placed his own hand over hers…it was so comfortingly warm to touch.
Selestriel smiled at him, “I love you”, she whispered before placing a light kiss on his cheek, “Take care of my little Greenleaf…”
Shocking realization hit him as he saw her draw away from him and then before his very eyes she started to fade.
“No”, he cried in anguish, “Selestriel…don’t leave me…please!”
* * *
Celebrian held the small pale hand in her own as she gently brushed a stray lock of golden hair from the sickly face. Elrond had done what he could and the fact that the elfling was still alive was a testament to his skill. But still they did not know if it was enough.
Her own heart ached for the loss of her friend and she felt for the little one who was yet to face that grief – his mother was gone. Lost to him for all of time.
A slight movement beneath her fingers drew her attention back to him and she felt Elrond move to stand behind her – the small elf was waking.
Blurry blue eyes opened slowly and she could see the effort it was taking for him to focus.
“Legolas?” she said softly as he stared up at her and the look on his face was almost too much for her.
He knew.
Somehow this little one who had only yet to awaken from near-death knew that his Ata, his mother, was no longer here.
A lone tear streaked down his pale face and he closed his eyes not wanting to see the world that had turned so cruel so quickly and Celebrian reached out and stroked his face. His skin was so soft and he shook slightly under her gentle touch.
The blue eyes opened again and sensing his need, the Lady of Imladris gently gathered the distraught little prince into her arms and held him tight, mindful of his grievous wound, “You are safe, “ she cooed softly as she stroked the back of his head and could feel the small sobs that racked his body.
Elrond laid a comforting hand on top of the little elf’s head as behind him his own three children watched, wordless. The twins were torn in grief for the little elf as Arwen buried her head into Elladan’s neck. She was terrified.
Never in her young life had she known the pain of losing someone to death for it was something alien to her race. They were immortal. Death should not be their fate.
They wanted to leave and let him have some privacy in his grief, but at the same time the twins knew that their presence was more important. What had happened to Legolas was so heinous that right now it was imperative for him to feel safe and loved…more then anything else. So no matter how much it tore at their hearts, the children of Elrond stayed close and stayed strong for the motherless elf.
Finally the little elf withdrew from their embrace and lay back. Turning his face away, his listless eyes sought out the window and he fixed his gaze upon it.
New worry laced Elrond as repeated efforts to break through to the child went unanswered. The little prince did not say anything. He just continued to lay there and stare unseeing out the window until in pure exhaustion, Legolas fell asleep.
“Is he going to be okay?” Elrohir asked as his mother pulled the blanket up to the sleeping elfling’s chin and tucked it carefully around his wounded body. He and Elladan had shared anxious looks when Legolas refused to say anything, no matter what they did. He would not even respond to Arwen, more then looking at her.
The Lord of Imladris sighed deeply as he laid his hand upon the golden head and closed his eyes for a few moments. When they opened he stared down at the child for a long time before answering, “His wounds will heal. He is strong…”
Celebrian caught the unsaid “but” and pressed quietly to not disturb the little one’s rest, “but?”
“But”, Elrond said, his gaze resting upon the prince, “his silence concerns me. He is an elf…a child of light and of love. I fear for him if he turns from who he is and continues to shut him off. However...”
He smiled and turned to his children, his eyes resting on Arwen and he reached and picked his little elfling up, “However, I do think that if we are patient, he will return to us. Ai-Dulan will fly again.”
Ushering his children from the room, Lord Elrond hoped he was right but right now he had a message to send.
* * *
When the king heard the piercing cry of a hunting falcon his heart dreaded the message that he knew Adria would bring…
To Rivendell with haste…
* * *
994 years later:
Lord Elrond held the small piece of parchment tightly in his hands. A messenger delivered it to him some time earlier. He had recognized the brown and green tunic of the messenger as being from the woodland realm… Mirkwood and he wasn’t in too much a hurry to read it. He was fairly certain he knew what it was going to say and wanted to put if off as long as possible.
His youngest son was particularly curious about this message, as he had never known his father to stall when receiving news.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered to the two tall dark haired elves that were standing beside him although he knew that his father could easily have heard him. That was one of the first things he had learned being raised a human among elves – they heard everything!
Elrond sighed as he stood up and turned around to walk out on the small veranda that overlooked the Bruinen River - the heart of the beautiful city, Imladris in Rivendell. He knew his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, would do a more then competent job of telling Aragorn, son of Arathon, heir of Isildur, why he was in no hurry to read the King’s words – it would be the same as every other time.
And although it had been happening regularly for almost a century now, the rejection still hurt as if it were the first one.
Elves did not keep time the same way as humans and for an elf as old as Elrond, a century was merely a change of the wind, a turn of the time. He understood Thranduil’s rejection…but understanding did not make it any easier.
With the understanding came a guilt…although what had happened had been beyond him to stop – but he still felt like he should have able too…and so did the King.
No, he was in no hurry to read this latest rejection.
“It’s a reply from Mirkwood”, Elladan, the older of the two identical elves, said softly, “From King Thranduil.”
“Ah”, Aragorn said catching on, “A reply to Ada’s invitation to Arwen’s 1000th birthday.” Elves did not normally celebrate birthdays which was good as they were horribly hard to buy for after the first couple hundred, but the passing of the first century was an important milestone in a young Elf’s life. It was like turning 21 to a human and Elrond had sent out invitations to all the nobility to attend – including King Thranduil or someone from his court.
“Yes a reply”, Elrohir said softly. Although the twins looked no older then someone in their mid twenties, the elves were centuries old and understood why their father was hesitant. Indeed it scorched their own hearts as they thought back to that horrible day.
Aragorn caught on from their tone that something was amiss and pressed, “And?”
“And he will say no – just as he always does”, Elladan said sadly as he watched his father. Elrond was looking out over Imladris but the older twin knew that his father was not in the elven city at this moment. No, he was a couple of league out…and almost a thousand years away – 994 to be exact.
Realizing that their father might want some privacy, Elladan grabbed both his younger twin and their human brother and lead them from the room. He understood his father very well.
If Elrond heard them leave, he never gave notice. For his oldest child was right – he was far out of Imladris at that moment.
* * *
“So you want to tell me what’s going on now?” Aragorn demanded as they walked out into the gardens and down towards the stables. Neither twin said anything for a while but continued walking. So Aragorn followed suit. He knew they would tell him when they were ready. He just hoped they would be ready soon, he was not getting any younger and elves did not keep mortal time!
Finally they stopped by a quiet brook and the twins flopped down heavily into the tall grass and looked at each other. Neither wanted to start – it hurt them to remember, maybe even more then their father…in some ways.
Elladan started speaking, and Aragorn was transfixed by the melodic sound of his voice as his oldest brother took him back a thousand years in time…
“Our mother had a best friend”, he said slowly surprising Aragorn. “They had grown up together in Lothlorien until mother married father and Selestriel married the heir of Greenwood the Great.”
Aragorn grabbed a long piece of grass and chewed it as Elladan continued, “Arwen was not more then a babe when Selestrial came to visit. With her, came her own babe, and they stayed for a while drawing comfort from our mother who had the experience of raising twins to help her guide her friend in her new role.”
Elladan smiled back as he remembered it like it was just yesterday. His mother and Selestrial kept the house alive with their musical laughter as everyone in Rivendell was entranced by the two beautiful elflings that were blossoming before their eyes, “It had been a long time since Rivendell had elflings and everyone reveled in their everyday. Arwen doted on the babe and together they kept us on our toes…especially once the babe learned to run… Oh boy could he run.” Elrohir chuckled as he remembered more then once trying to round up the two little efflings – they had been fast!
Elladan was also smiling but then a sadness flashed over his face and he continued, “But then the time came for Selestrial and her child to return to Greenwood the Great….”
His voice choked off unexpectedly as he could remember that day so vividly but he forced himself to continue as Aragorn felt himself tensing up as he saw how it affected his brother. Elrohir had suddenly found a small ladybug to watch to help distract himself. Elladan’s voice was full of emotion and his big gray eyes shone with unspilled tears, “I can still see it as if it was happening right now. The escort was small – only 6 elves. Selestrial refused to ride with any more insisting that the less attention that was drawn to her and the child, the better. She was beautiful and proud as she sat astride a large white horse. Her friend and constant companion, Adria a hunting falcon, was perched on her left arm as she turned to wave…”
As he paused for moment Aragorn asked quietly, “Where was the baby?”
Elrohir gave a small laugh, “Oh Estel – how long have you lived among us that you have yet to understand what the passage of time might be for a ‘visit’?”
Aragorn blushed at the jest and pushed Elrohir back making him flop on his back as he picked up the tale from his older brother, “the baby was by this time 4 man years old and if memory does not fail me…he was complaining loudly about not being able to ride by himself even as they went out of sight…”
…But A-t-a…I’m a big elf now…
Elrohir stopped unexpectedly and shivered as he could still hear the little voice echoing out of the courtyard.
Elladan reached out and gave his younger twin’s arm a squeeze as Ro’s voice caught and the younger one nodded that he wanted to continue it, “they hadn’t been gone for very long when Adria came back. Mother heard him first but within seconds the shrill piercing cry of the falcon echoed throughout Imladris – something bad had happened. There was no other reason for the falcon to have come back…as Dan said, he was always with the Queen….”
“The Queen?” Aragorn said not understanding the connection yet.
“Yes, Selestrial was Queen of Greenwood the Great…she was King Thranduil’s wife, “ Elladan’s quiet explanation made Aragorn’s brow knit in concern as he was starting to puzzle it together and he wasn’t sure he was liking how the pieces were fitting together.
“Immediately we took chase after the prey bird”, it was Elladan speaking now, “Myself, Elrohir and any other elves within hearing…. I have never ridden so hard in my life…” he allowed this one admittance before composing himself and continuing gravely, “we came across the Queen’s escort a couple league from the city. They had been attacked by…creatures…” his voice faltered for a moment as he had no other name for the foul things that had befallen the escort.
“Creatures?” Aragorn repeated incredulously, “that close to Rivendell?”
“Yes”, affirmed Elrohir, “ Creatures. They were like orc… but not. And they moved in daylight with the ease of elves. Some darkness had shielded them from our detection and they advanced on the wood-elves mercilessly…”
Aragorn swallowed as he closed his eyes sympathetically. It was always hard to hear the demise of the firstborn – they were a dying race already. Nothing needed speed that up. Lest of all the evil of ‘creatures’ under the cloak of a darkness.
“At first we couldn’t find them – the Queen and her child”, Aragorn noticed how his brothers had stopped referring to Selestriel by her name and started calling her the Queen once she left the Last Homely Home.
Elladan was speaking again and the young man could tell how painful this was for them to talk about even now almost a thousand years later, “and when we did…” his voice died off unable to finish the image of the brave elvenqueen crouched over the young prince…
No one said anything for a few moments as Aragorn waited for them to continue. Obviously this memory, though old to him was still fresh enough to cause great torment to his immortal brethren. He suspected he knew the ending and tried to spare them having to detail it, “It’s okay…I understand now.”
“No. No you don’t”, The vehemence in Elrohir’s voice shocked Aragorn but nearly as much as the what he said after that, “…they had tried to get away but the creatures were relentless. The warriors fought bravely but in the end 6 warriors were just not enough…no. The royals had fought too. The Queen was crouching over her child when we found them – trying to use her own body to shield him. A creature was almost upon them and we shot him with our arrows even as one of the wood-elves, Methos the head of the guard, used his own body to tackle the beast… But it was not enough…not soon enough…the child had been impaled with a blade that fixed him to the ground through his shoulder…”
The younger twins voice broke off in a sob as he remembered it so vividly. That small body skewered to the earth, “but he was not dead!”
Aragorn’s mouth actually fell open in shock – a small child pinned to the ground by a creatures blade as his noble mother crouched over him – her own body to offer in his place…the image sent chills through his own body. And anger…although a thousand years misplaced.
“We freed him from the blade”, Elladan was speaking again, “he was bleeding too heavily…we could not save him ourselves. And then Ada showed up… but the Queen would not let him attend to the child for she too had been mortally wounded and knew that there was not enough strength to save them both…she would give the child to him only if he assured her that he would not try and save her…but that he would save her child.”
Aragorn was horrified. Not that his father hadn’t been able to save both but about the weight that that knowledge must have been for both Elrond and the Queen.
“A mother’s love”, Elrohir said fondly as he shook his head and thought about Selestriel. He still missed her. She was like an aunt to them, “Selestriel, Queen of Greenwood the Great died on the way back to Imladris…. as it was, the young prince barely survived the ride himself. It took much from father to save him.”
A silence had fallen over the glade as if in respect to the brave elven Queen who had given her own her own life, in place of her son’s. Finally Elladan stood up and brushed the grass from his legs, “King Thranduil and the largest armed escort in Rivendell history arrived to take the young prince home. And since then, he has refused any contact with Ada…or Rivendell. We have visited but he will not allow himself or the prince to come here.”
Elrohir was not so quick to rise as he finished it, “And to make things worst, a darkness fell over Greenwood the Great and men started to call it Mirkwood. It was as if the Queen’s death had sent the forest into mourning….a mourning from which it has never recovered.” Reluctantly he let his older twin pull him to his feet before doing the same to Aragorn. They needed to go back and see to their father.
As they walked, Aragorn wondered, “What does the prince think of this? Does he blame as his father so obviously does?”
This actually made both the twins laugh, “Legolas? Nay, his is a pure spirit full of life, love and passion…nay. We had occasion to visit Mirkwood a long time ago and got to spend some time with our young friend and were pleased to see that if he felt any ill will towards us, he never did anything to show us. In fact, I believe he was trying to convince his father to let him visit – although that was almost 200 years ago.”
Their mirth was contagious and although Aragorn had never met this prince, he already liked him if what his brothers said was true, and he couldn’t resist saying, ‘Well in that case, let’s hurry back. Maybe he’s finally convinced him!”
“King Thranduil? I highly doubt that!” who spoke was lost in the laughter as the three sons of Elrond raced back to their house.
* * *
Elrond was speechless. He read and reread the parchment and was just getting ready to get a second opinion on its meaning when his sons burst into the room.
Before they could say anything, he thrust the message to Elladan, “Here read this – I fear there is some spell on this message and I cannot make out its meaning.”
Worried, Elladan quickly read it before his face light up and he looked at each face before stopping at his father’s and beaming, “Legolas is coming!”
* * *
To say Elrond was nervous would have been an understatement. Even with all the planning and excitement of Arwen’s birthday and return from Lothlorien, he couldn’t help but feel more then a bit preoccupied – Prince Legolas of Mirkwood was due in Rivendell in a day and he couldn’t wait to see him.
The last time he had seen the effling, he was 4 years old and trying to recover from the horror of his wounds and of losing his mother. He was listless and almost catatonic, refusing to speak a word since regaining consciousness. And then Thranduil had swept in with the largest elven contingent of warriors in Rivendell’s history to escort his son home. He was taking no chances.
His words were few and harsh when he spoke to Elrond, “This place is not safe”, and then he spun on his heels and carried young Legolas home. And Elrond had not seen either since. His memory haunted by the last fleeting image of the elfling he had seen as the child lay limp and unresponsive in his father’s strong arms as the King of Mirkwood gracefully mounted his horse and rode out of Imladris.
And it burned his heart immensely.
Especially when he lost his own wife so soon after – ….to orcs.
His own sons had seen the young prince on a number of occasions, although not recently after the fiasco of the last visit, and assured him that Legolas had fully recovered with no more then a curious scar on his shoulder from the deadly blade.
The fact that the knife had scarred an immortal’s body was unsettling to the Lord of Imladris as elves healed without scars…and he often pondered about it, although he felt tremendous relief that the little elf had once again found his voice. The thought of the pale, soundless being that left his house was an image that was not easily erased.
But now, for reasons he had yet to understand, the young prince was being allowed to come back for the celebration though Thranduil made it perfectly clear that he was holding Elrond personally responsible for the prince’s safety.
And that was something he was not going to take lightly. He had lost too many that he held dear to him to the darkness of monsters, he would not lose the young prince. No. That was unacceptable.
Pushing the thoughts behind him, he tried to concentrate on the story that his sons were telling about their latest hunt. But they sensed his preoccupation and Aragorn was just getting to ask his father what was wrong when the sound of a loud commotion sent them quickly to the front door.
A powerful gray stallion reared and pranced around the courtyard of the Last Homely Home. It pawed at the ground and nickered loudly in distress. Seeing Lord Elrond, it quickly crossed to him and tossed his head impatiently, imploring the lord’s help.
Elrond reached out and gently stroked the arched neck as the horse snorted in agitation. Comprehension and then shock flickered across the elf’s – he knew this horse. Not that he had ever seen it before, but he knew this beast carried nobility. It was the horse of a prince. Legolas’s horse.
Faster then Aragorn could even comprehend, his father gracefully mounted the strange equine and was already heading out the courtyard. Elladan grabbed Aragorn’s arm and they raced after Elrohir who was halfway to the stables. Elrond yelled something but Aragorn wasn’t able to pick out the words.
However his elven brothers had no trouble and as they raced towards the horses that were quickly responding to their calls, he heard Elladan hiss, “Not again.”
* * *
Legolas Greenleaf, heir of King Thranduil, Prince of the woodland elves laughed heartily at the look on the face of the sputtering elf, “Peace Rauri, I am sure that your horse merely thought you in need of a bath!”
The wet elf sat on his bottom in the creek and threw his horse a dangerous look. The creature snorted and tossed his head and Legolas deftly slid from his own gray stallion, briefly stopping to rub a strange ache in his shoulder before offering his hand to help his long time friend to his feet. Rauri pushed his hands away and nimbly rose to feet as he wrung the water from his long hair.
“More like he needed to cool down a couple of notches”, one of the other warriors in the prince’s royal escort snorted. Rauri was well known among his friends for his quick temper and had only moments before being tossed by his spirited steed, been in a heated conversation with his brother, Raidruch.
The prince had fallen back to the end of the escort and kept his amusement to himself as the brothers bickered. It did not surprise him when Rauri’s horse tossed him into the water. He had sensed the animal’s growing agitation at its beloved elf as his voice continued in volume until their passing was sure to alert any orc in Middle Earth. Legolas was just getting ready to stop this himself when the horse acted first.
And now an extremely put off elf glared into the gentle brown eyes that stared
back at him. But before he could say anything, Legolas reached out and grabbed
his arm as he said quietly, “Peace Rauri, the beast has done you no injustice.
Indeed it was him that has been wronged. The mild forests of Rivendell chafe
under your ire. I am sure your brother did not doubt your ability but merely his
perception of it. So before you request that this gentle beast bare you any
further, you may need to make amends.” Although his voice was soft, his intent
was clear. It was not a suggestion.
While Legolas loved his friend, he hated the quick temper that sometimes overrode his common sense.
Rauri sighed and looked into the wide clear blue eyes of his friend and charge, for he and the other 8 elves that rode with the prince were more then companions, they were his guard. They would gladly protect him with their lives – and that is why they had been chosen.
And of course the prince was right. Just as he usually was.
Reaching out the blond warrior gently stroked the velvet nose in front of him, “Sorry mellon-nim, my ire is of no disgrace except my own and it should not have to be born by one as noble as you. “ The horse nickered softly and butted against him letting him known that all was forgiven.
Legolas smiled as he stroked the arched neck of his own beloved horse, Nim’loki, and whispered something to him before reaching into his pack and pulling out some garments – his friend’s clothes were soaked and it would be uncomfortable to ride in such a state. The horse tossed his head and nudged the prince affectionately.
“Here”, he said offering the garments and Rauri recoiled as if offered a snake instead of the fine green velvet and leather tunic and leggings that the prince held.
“No your highness, I cannot except this. These are your ceremonial garments…I could not”, the other elves around him were equally shocked although they all knew that their prince had a gentle and kind heart – even if he were a lethal warrior.
Legolas frowned looking down at the clothes still in his hand, “I am sorry son of Recgozi, I did not realize that the robes of a Mirkwood royal were not good enough for you. I apologize your eminence.” Legolas mocked and the other elves around them laughed. It took Rauri a moment before he realized that Legolas didn’t mean anything by it but was trying to convince him that being dry was more important then to whom the clothes belonged.
“Besides, “Rauri’s brother Raidruch laughed, “you could act as the official royal decoy incase the horrendous beasts of Rivendell arise and try and devour our liege!”
“Ha ha always the funny one”, Rauri growled although he did concede to Legolas’s common sense and quickly dawned the dry clothes before gracefully mounting his horse once again.
They continued on for another league before the prince could take it no longer, “Peace sons of Recgozi“, the brothers had continued baiting each other and Legolas’s nerves were getting a bit more frayed then he would admit as he passed under the trees of Rivendell, “We offend these gentle trees with our noise. I fear Lord Elrond will grow old waiting for us as your voices will alert him too early of our arrival.”
Again another twinge of discomfort in his shoulder made his unconsciously rub it as both Rauri and Raidruch blushed slightly under Legolas’s chiding. The prince was right. They were not behaving as elves should and they apologized to him, “Sorry your highness. We will be better restrained…is your shoulder injured?” The brothers had noticed the way the prince occasionally rubbed it and worried that something had happened that they were unaware of.
One of the elves in particular, the senior among them, narrowed his gaze in suspicion as he couldn’t help but notice the action as well. However, unlike the youngsters who traveled with him, Methos, head of the royal guard, did not think it was pain from a new injury.
As they spoke they rode into a small clearing and the prince stopped suddenly as he heard the trees around him whispering something… but it was so quiet that his companions did not hear it.
“Your highness… are you all right?” Rauri repeated as he saw a strange look cross his friend’s face. The young warrior immediately reached for his bow as his eyes scanned the clearing for any threat. Around him, the rest of the prince’s friends also went from ‘friend’ to ‘protector’ as they prepared for trouble.
But the Prince of Mirkwood was oblivious to what was going on around him as he strained to hear what the trees were whispering. It was about an old pain…a familiar pain…. one they shared.
In one fluid movement, Legolas slid from his horse and knelt down on the soft forest floor, his hands gently running along the ground as if searching for something.
“Prince Legolas?” It was Raidruch’s voice this time, but still Legolas was lost to him. Methos hushed them. He had been here before and his own dark memories of this place where vivid enough to make him uneasy. He would explain it shortly, if they hadn’t figured it out by then. But for now, they would respect the homage their charge would pay for this was the very spot where almost a thousand years ago, a very young prince of Mirkwood and his mother had been attacked by creatures
An understanding fell over the elves as they saw silent tears track down the royal face. And although they knew they should turn away, they couldn’t. They were transfixed by his quiet grief as he traveled back in time to this very spot, and became a child again.
Soundlessly, Methos slipped from his mount to stand behind the kneeling prince in reverie of his own grief and failure. He blamed himself for the Queen’s death and the near loss of this prince as he felt he should have been able to save them…even if the events told different.
He was head of the Royal Guard – he should have been able to do something! Thranduil never blamed him and thought so much of this elf that he placed him once again in charge of his envoy through Rivendell. And as he stood behind the grieving youngster, he once again pledged that nothing like that would ever happen again.
“Ata”, Legolas’ voice was so soft and so filled with pain it broke even the seasoned warrior to hear it. It was not the voice of their prince but of a small child calling for their mother once again.
Ata.
The trees around them ached to console the broken heart as they saw the elfling they once knew as the grown elf that wept with them now.
Utinu…son. The trees whispered back. And in the whisper of their trembling leaves, Legolas could hear his mother’s voice.
Aminmela lle…I love you.
How long he knelt in that clearing was not important. Time was something that elves had plenty of and in respect to him, they waited in silent vigil for as long as he needed. And when he was ready to leave, they left as quiet as time itself.
They understood.
* * *
The rangers watched the quietly moving group of elves as they soundlessly wove their way through the trees. Most of the elves were dark haired and wore the traditional brown and green warrior tunics of the wood-elves of Mirkwood. It was just as they were told it would be.
One of the rangers, a big man with hard brown eyes gave a quick hand signal and his men got ready.
The elves would be in place in just a few moments. His eyes quickly picked out three blond heads out of the 10 elves and he knew that only one was the one they needed. His eyes paused momentarily on the one who wore the finery of a prince but then a slender hand grabbed his arm and he heard the voice in his ear, “The young warrior in the back. That is him”.
He nodded silently and made another hand signal to his men even as the dark elf beside him disappeared into the foliage. Damn elves are like ghosts, he thought to himself even as he got ready.
Getting to his feet, the man called Scarab yelled out “YIELD…PRINCE OF MIRKWOOD!” And then all hell broke loose.
* * *
As they rode out the gate at an alarming pace, Elladan finally brought Aragorn up to speed. The riderless horse was from Mirkwood. The prince and his escort were under attack.
Aragorn shook his head as he urged his own horse to go faster as the gray stallion was easily out distancing them driven by worry for its elf.
What was going on was beyond him – Rivendell was safe…what was happening?
* * *
9 elves lay dead but there was no clue as to who or what had attacked them. Each body was pierced with arrows laced with quick acting poison.
Elladan knelt briefly beside the one that he recognized and his heart twisted in ironic agony – it was Methos, the faithful head of the Royal Guard. After barely surviving his last encounter in the fair Rivendell forest, the Halls of Mandos had claimed him on the next trip. The noble elf was dead…his pledges forever lost in the silence of his passing.
“Where’s the prince?” Aragorn asked as he stood beside his brother briefly before stepping around the fallen warrior searching vainly for any survivors.
“ADA!” the anguished cry brought him stumbling towards where Elrohir was kneeling. In front of him was a blond haired elf wearing the clothes of a noble. The dead prince.
Aragorn felt his throat seize up. The king had trusted his father finally after a 1000 years and this time the prince didn’t even make it to Imladris!
Elrond quickly knelt down beside the still elf and gently pushed the hair away from his fair face as he lowered his head sadly, “Oh Legolas”. And then he looked down into the fair face and his brow wrinkled in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” Aragorn asked as he heard Elladan come up behind him and before Elrond could say anything Elladan spoke, “That’s not Legolas.”
It was only then that Elrohir pushed past the dread that had overcome him when he saw the prince’s finery and he took a closer look at the face and let out a sigh even as his father said, “No it is not.”
“You’re sure?” Aragorn dared ask but now all three were nodding in confirmation.
“Yeah, while this warrior is fair, he is not Selestriel and Thranduil’s son Legolas. Even as the child I have only known him, he was considered fair… even among his own. This is not Legolas.”
“Then where is he?” the dreaded question hung over them all.
* * *
Legolas groaned softly as he slowly regained consciousness. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find that it was dark and he moved his head painfully to try and get a better look at his surroundings. But it was difficult to do as he securely chained against a wall.
“Well your highness, sorry about the accommodations but they are the best we can afford you right now”, a voice sneered at the young elf. The room was dim but he did not need any light to see the contempt that he was held with and it unnerved him. He had never seen such malice towards him before particularly as he had no idea who these people were.
The only thing he did know was they were men and that was enough to unnerve him as he had been told that men were suspicious of anyone that was different then there own. This had been drilled into him since he was an elfling.
Men were dangerous and his father and protectors had taught him to be wary.
“I am a warrior”, the young prince said quietly. He would not admit to his blood as he had no idea what that information might be used for.
The man scoffed loudly as stepped close to the prince and glared into his face. Legolas did not even twitch or attempt to pull away. He would not let him see fear even as his insides twisted and he felt sick at his presence. In the back of his mind he could not help but remember that it was beneath these very skies his mother had lost her life in Rivendell and he was now strongly regretting convincing his father to let him attend Arwen’s ceremony…but he could not dwell on that right now as the man was now speaking to him again, “You are Legolas, heir of Thranduil, prince of Mirkwood,”
Legolas shook his head, “No…I’m..” his words were cut off as the big man backhanded him and then grabbing the prince’s hair he pulled his head back so that Legolas was forced to look up into his face as he continued, “You are the prince my pet…you have been shown to me. Given to me if you will.”
“Shown?” it took all his strength to keep his voice even as he refused to show this man how much fear he had in him right now. This man was evil and he felt it grip his heart in a black fist and squeeze. And there was something more…something worst. The evil that permeated around this man was familiar to Legolas although he could not place it.
The man stared hard into the defiant blue eyes that glared back at him but never answered him. This elf was strong… he could feel it.
While still holding Legolas’s head back, he reached up and gently caressed his face and the prince was unable to control the shudder at his touch. Amused, the man released him as they heard someone else coming down into the small cellar.
“Now Scarab”, the new man addressed the elf’s tormentor, “remember he is to be shared.”
Scarab grinned and stepped back as he swept his arms towards the captive, “Of course my friend. But Guler, even you have to admit it…our new play toy is very pretty…isn’t he?”
Guler appraised Legolas darkly before nodding, “He’ll do.” Grabbing a stool, he sat down and pulled out a pipe, which he lit and inhaled deeply, his dark eyes never once leaving the elf.
Scarab waited until the guard was settled before taking his leave, “Try not to miss me to much my pet, I’ll be back before bedtime to tuck you in…and maybe even read you a bedtime story.” Legolas blanched but didn’t say nothing.
Scarab’s happy humming could be heard by the elf’s keen ears even after the horrid man had gone.
“Be warned little elf, “ Guler said after Scarab had left, “There are some fates worst then death. Cross that one, “ his eyes indicated the direction that the other had gone, “and you will know the depravity of man. Cooperate…and you will only know his hunger. Trust me. The latter is better…for the both of us.”
Legolas’s heart grew cold at the undisguised threat although he had no idea what Guler was warning him about and he heard his father’s voice as he closed his eyes wearily…Legolas, Rivendell is not safe. It was not safe a thousand years ago and it is not safe now…and then opened them up and forced himself to look back at the man who was watching him, “I have no desire to know either.”
Guler laughed at the gumption of the elf, “Well then it’s a good thing that you’re having no say in this then…isn’t it?”
Legolas closed his eyes and turned his face away from the man.
It was true…Rivendell was not safe.
* * *
Aragorn stood beside his father as the older elf surveyed the carnage in silent rage and disbelief. Elrond could not believe this was happening…again. Another brutal attack on the royal family of Mirkwood…. in his forests.
The man was still looking at the royal attire of the dead warrior, “Why was he wearing the prince’s clothes? A decoy?”
Elladan was also standing beside him and shrugged, “I don’t know. Possibly. It is not unknown for royals to travel in disguise…but…” his indecision was cut off as Elrohir came running lightly back with some wet clothes in his hands.
“I don’t think this elf was in disguise.”
Elrond saw the wet clothing and then knelt down beside the dead elf and gently laid his hand on his hair confirming his suspicion. Standing up he spoke slowly as his wise gaze swept the woods once again for any sign of his missing charge, “The prince gave his escort some dry clothes to wear. His hair is still damp.”
“His royal clothes? Why not something less…well…” Aragorn didn’t have the word and Elladan smiled fondly as he thought about his young friend, “That is Legolas. If someone needed dry clothes, he would offer his own – regardless of whether they were his finest or not. Besides, “ Elladan indicated the fine velvets and leather that the dead elf wore, “Legolas would not travel dressed in such finery. He had brought them for Arwen’s ceremony.”
Elrohir nodded in affirmation thinking back about the blond elf, “Although a prince, he never did anything that would single himself out. He dressed as his friends did. To a casual observer he would appear as just another warrior.”
“Unless you watched him”, Elladan added quietly before turning back to Elrond, “who did this? It is not orcs of that I am sure.” His hands indicated the woods around them, “there are no dead accept elves.”
“I know my son”, Elrond said gravely.
Aragorn knelt down as he looked for tracks but there alarmingly none that he could find, “They were attacked without killing a single one of their attackers? What kind of enemy is this?”
“Nay, there must have been dead”, Elladan said refusing the believe these elves went down without taking a single aggressor with them, “but the dead have been taken. This is a royal escort. The king would have sent his finest with his son.”
“To Rivendell?” Aragorn was still skeptical, “Why would he need to send his finest when only a cursory escort would be needed into our fair realm?”
Three sets of elven eyes turned to the human but it was Lord Elrond who spoke, “because King Thranduil does not believe Rivendell to be safe. And after this most recent event, I am beginning to wonder myself. What lurks in these words is beyond me to see but it has twice now struck ill intend on our guests. No Thranduil would have sent his very best with the prince. Even to Imladris. We need to find Legolas. I will not see him harmed while there is still life in me.”
As one, they silently moved into the woods – there had to be some sign.
* * *
2 Weeks Later:
For the next two weeks the Noldor elves searched the countryside for any sign of the missing royal.
There was only one small pub in the center of town so that was the first place Aragorn headed to. Sitting down at a table in back, he ordered ale and glanced around at the other patrons. It was a smoky, crowded place even at this time of day, attesting to the favorite pastime in Avonarret.
His attention was drawn to three men who were seated at the table across from him. Rangers by their own account, they were loud, braggarts who harassed the poor barmaids. The biggest of the three, caught Aragorn’s gaze and beckoned to him, “Come ranger, sit with us. We are kin.”
Yes as orcs are my kin, Aragorn thought before plastering a disinterested look on his face and moving over, “I had no idea my kin were so loud.” His obvious distaste of them made the big man laugh and look at the other two with him.
In all truth, it was the two with him that were causing the commotion while he himself merely watched and kept them in line when it seemed they might get out of hand. He grinned at Aragorn and stuck out his hand, “Name’s Scarab. Yes, the boys are just unwinding, we’ve been in the woods for a long time now.”
Aragorn grimaced at the strength of the man’s grip as he lightly shook it and managed to control his urge to wipe his hand after shaking this repulsive man’s.
“Strider”, was all he offered and to this surprise the man named Scarab seemed to recognize the name.
“Well I’ll be. So you’re the famous Strider, “ he laughed as he easily read the look of surprise on the other man’s face, “Don’t look so surprised young friend. Rangers through all the areas have tracked your rising star. Although I will admit, you’re a shade younger then I thought. Oh well, experience treads where age can’t.”
Aragorn nodded and hid his amusement behind a sip of the yellow ale. He had almost laughed to hear words that should come from an elf, come from this nauseating man. The young ranger couldn’t actually figure out why he felt so much animosity towards this man or the two with him. But something about them made him very wary.
And as he wiped a dribble of the ale from his chin, his eyes narrowed for a split second as an odor wafted into his sensitive nose from the hand he had just shaken with Scarab. Hiding his suspicion, he pretended to scratch an itch on his nose and he recognized the scent immediately.
Amidst the sweat, dirt and horses, there was the lingering sweet smell of blood. Elf blood.
Keeping his voice steady he glanced at Scarab’s hands and noticed that there
was indeed bloodstains on them, he commented offhandedly, “You must have seen
action for you’ve blood on your hands.”
Scarab glanced down and then made light of it, “Orcs, stinking filthy creatures. But they bleed and I do not so it was a good day for me.”
The other two men laughed and Aragorn joined in although his suspicions were
now confirmed. This man was lying to him about the blood – that was no orc
blood. It was elven and he was pretty sure which elf it belonged to. Now all
he had to do was try and find out where these men camped or what they might
have done with the prince.
Testing the water, he ventured nonchalantly, “I myself find Elves to be a more voracious prey then orcs.”
Silence fell over the table before Scarab said quietly, “Rangers don’t hunt elves my friend, they are expensive quarry…or so I have been told.” The big man’s eyes clouded over briefly as he watched the young ranger cautiously.
Aragorn had expected such a response and brushed it off, “Yes expensive but not unaffordable.”
The two men with Scarab eyed Aragorn suspiciously and then turned to their leader to see what he was going to do.
Scarab stared at Aragorn for a few moments but the younger ranger did not back down. Finally after a few tense moments, Scarab slapped the other man across his back and said with a laugh, “not unaffordable…I have to remember that. But take care my friend, not all rangers would agree with you on that. And they are what can make the price unattractive.”
“Empathy gets in the way too often of what needs to be done”, Aragorn said vaguely hoping to get more information from these men.
Scarab finished his drink and stood up, “True young Strider but I am a man who always gets done what needs to be.”
“And so am I”, Aragorn said with honest conviction and then he turned the conversation back a bit, “Orcs you say? I am on a similar quest. I have heard of trouble in Rivendell area and am hoping to catch my quota…can you point me to where the game might be?”
“Point you or guide you?” Scarab asked, his dark eyes twinkling. He liked this ranger and had already heard of his skill. He would make a great asset to their cause, “You are welcome to join us. We belong to a larger contingent of rangers but an extra sword, especially one as good as yours is rumored to be, is always welcome. However, “ his voice held a warning and Aragorn found it hard to hold his gaze as he read the lethalness in it, “we are rangers who do what must be done…at all costs.”
Aragorn nodded and said firmly, “As am I. Let us go. I am anxious for the taste of the hunt.”
Scarab smiled and beckoned him to follow. He had a good feeling about this ranger.
* * *
Elladan and Elrohir saw Aragorn leave the pub with the three other men. They exchanged looks as they saw him mount his horse and start to follow. He glanced around once quickly and gave a slight signal, which both twins saw and interpreted immediately.
Without a word, they turned and rode for home.
* * *
As he rode with the rangers towards their camp, Scarab told Aragorn about a large group of orcs they were tracking and the younger ranger replied honestly, “How do you plan on besting them? A large group of orcs will be odds to great for even the four of us.”
Scarab threw back his head and laughed as if Aragorn had just said the funniest thing, “You have so much wisdom Strider…but your grounds are based on what you see and not what you know. I have a group of the best rangers in the entire realm – at least 50 of the most lethal men in Middle Earth. And….” His eyes glinted mischievously, “we have a secret weapon.”
“Secret weapon?” Aragorn echoed still getting over the shock of a band of 50 rangers operating so close to Imladris without his father’s knowledge… not to mention the large group of orcs. What darkness hid them from the Elf Lord’s sight?
“Oh yes, we have a secret weapon. If you are true to your own words and will not allow empathy to sway what needs to be done, then I think you will find the irony in my weapon only fitting, “ Scarab carefully chose his words and turned to gage the reaction of his new recruit, “An elf to fight orcs…poetic justice isn’t it?”
Aragorn was actually confused – what did Scarab mean? “I don’t think I’m following you. Elves fight orcs naturally – where is the poetry?”
The three men burst out laughing at his ignorance and Scarab grinned before turning in his seat and urging his horse to pick up the pace, “Not in the way we use them. You’ll see.”
A feeling of dread consumed Aragorn as he urged his own horse to keep up. What was this man planning to do?
* * *
Elrond was not pleased. Aragorn had left with three strange men – rangers obviously, without any word other then letting his brothers know he was all right and they needed to leave.
He stood and looked out over his fair realm. There was nothing he could do except wait. But it unsettled him to no end that now he had two charges that were missing in his woods.
* * *
Aragorn was shocked…abhorred…there was no word strong enough to properly depict just how it hurt his very soul when he saw the state of the elf Prince – and once he had seen the young elf he wondered how he had ever mistaken a warrior for this one.
Legolas, Greenleaf, heir of Mirkwood, was a proud regal creature and even the atrocity that he was now bound in could not erase this from him. Stripped to his waist, it was easy to see the strong, proud shoulders that were marred with bruises and lacerations, testifying to his rough treatment. High cheekbones set in a calm face belied whatever torment was running through him as his long blond hair was tangled and bloodied and he gazed at his new tormentor through dazed, but still somehow lucid, blue eyes of the color Aragorn had never seen before in a elf. They were clear and their color was borrowed from the most tranquil of skies. Looking in them seemed to draw the young ranger into their very depths.
Once they had made camp, Scarab bade him to go down to into the small guarded cellar to see his ‘secret weapon’. He wanted to know what the young ranger thought of his prized possession.
And although he thought he was prepared for any eventuality, nothing could have prepared the young ranger for the state he found the proud elf in.
Aragorn was outraged – how could anyone treat this fair creature in such a manner?
But steeling all that deep down where no one could see it, he knew he had better play his part well if he intended to make sure this elf was returned to Imladris where, he could tell by watching the slight shuddering of the elf’s bare chest as he took in uneven breaths, his father could attend to him.
He silently vowed to save this elf as much as for himself as for his father. Once he had seen the prince, Aragorn knew he could not let him perish. His brother’s were right – this elf had a powerful light and one that he could not, son of Arathorn, let go out. For if he did, he felt he himself would surely perish.
No, Legolas had to be saved. There was no other choice.
Of course, Legolas had no way of knowing what the new man who came into his captivity was thinking. He had never met Aragorn nor heard of him as his father did not speak of Rivendell in his presence.
It was quite miraculous that the young prince was even here now. But Legolas had no way of knowing that it was the Lady of the Woods, Galadriel, who had managed to soften Thranduil’s heart enough to send him… and not his own pestering.
Fates are beyond us as you know great Thranduil…but I fear that your son is bound to Rivendell…he needs to go. Of this I am sure. I hear his mother’s voice in my dreams of late…she is calling him home.
Home? The king said quietly as he rolled over in his sleep…this is his home.
No, corrected the Elven lady, home is where the heart is and my old friend, your son’s heart is in Rivendell. I cannot say why…but Selestriel is calling to him.
Let him go.
I can’t lose him…the great King said sadly…he is all I have left.
Then don’t. But if you forever keep him to you, then you will lose him. Let him go Thranduil. His fates lie elsewhere. Even you know that.
The elven King rose from his bed and approached the prince’s chamber fully aware that his son still lay in slumber. But he wanted to sit with him and watch over him.
And in the morning, when Legolas opened his eyes, he saw his father’s blue eyes watching him and he stretched cautiously, “Ada? I do not remember the last time I woke to see you standing vigil on my sleep.”
The King smiled and reached out to caress his beautiful boy’s silky hair, “I just wanted to make sure nothing disturbed your sleep my golden child…for your trip will be long and I will not send you off unrested.”
“Trip?” Legolas was confused for a moment but then a thought a came to him and he dared to hope even as his father nodded with a sad smile on his face, “Rivendell. Your mother would never forgive me if I disrespected Arwen by withholding your place from there. But, my child, please be careful. Your father’s heart can not take any more wounds to them.”
“Oh Ada”, Legolas laughed, “You are the strongest elf I know!” And then to his shock, his father grabbed him tightly in his arms and hugged him to him. The king never said anything as he held his son and Legolas let him although he was bit surprised. He knew his father loved him… however Thranduil was not openly demonstrative and many who had come up in front of the stern faced, regal King, would have doubted that he even any emotions. But those who knew his best knew that to be untrue. While he could do as duty dictated, he was not a heartless being.
He was just an elf who had lost his wife and was left to raise their infant child (indeed for an immortal, even a 4 year old elfling would be considered an infant) by himself in the scrutiny of the public eye.
Thranduil was determined to not make any mistakes and what many mistook, as aloofness was merely a cautiousness to ensure that this wife’s memory would never frown on him for their son.
So he allowed Legolas to go to Rivendell.
And as the elf Prince watched warily as the new man approached, he couldn’t help but wonder if the fates had a horrible sense of humor. The last time he had been in these woods, a creature had tried to make a shish-kabob out of him… and his mother…
Legolas tore himself away from those thoughts. The wounds were still too fresh and the scar that had never left his otherwise perfect body ached even more.
He had noticed it aching when he first entered the woods and it had gotten steadily worst until he could hardly ignore it. Scarab found the scar very interesting, as he had never seen one before on an elf and now he no longer knew if the pain he felt was from the old or the new…everything was blending into one blurred pain fest.
“Are you all right?” the man asked softly in Westron. He did not want to give it away to his companions that he had sympathy for the elf and spoke only loud enough for the elf’s sensitive ears to hear.
He saw the blue eyes narrow suspiciously as he had heard and wondered what cruel game this one was going to play as he came offering an olive branch in way of his sympathy. The fact that the man spoke only loud enough for him to hear was not lost on him as he steadied his gaze and didn’t say anything.
This new man was different from the rest and it made the elf even more wary. A ranger by the looks, he had a dark black mane of hair that needed a comb and hung down around a rugged, handsome face with piercing dark blue eyes that seemed much older then the elf suspected he was. He put this man in his early twenties – he was much younger then the others and the elf stifled a sigh.
Although he sensed nothing evil about this man, he could feel the others fury. The ranger had so much anger for one so young.
Of course he had no way of knowing that the anger he read in the ranger’s eyes were not directed at him but at the men who had done this to him.
The man moved closer and his eyes ran appraisingly over the elven body taking a closer look at the damage done to the prince. He saw past the bruises and lacerations and suspected broken ribs and possibly some internal bleeding as he frowned at the dark purple bruises on his abdomen. Yes, this elf needed his father and soon.
But then his eyes lit on the tightly balled fists and he actually hissed at the sight of the mistreated hand. He wanted to take it in his own for further inspection but he knew that would not be possible, yet. He was sure that some of the fingers were broken and his heart ached. Elves were natural born archers and a hand injury was one of the cruelest ones for them. If they were not correctly fixed, it could severely hamper their ability with a bow. And for an elf, there were very few fates worst then that.
He remembered his twin brothers saying that this prince was one of the best archers of Mirkwood…and that was not anything to take lightly. He was a superb archer among superb archers…and if his hand wasn’t seen to soon…Aragorn didn’t want to think about that.
“Are you okay mellon?” he took a chance using the elvish word for “friend” but he wanted to let the wood-elf know that he had at least one among this camp and that he did not need to fear him. But it never worked out this way.
Instead of helping ease the elf’s conscience it just intensified his fear as Legolas heard his own tongue coming from the mouth of the enemy. Did this man know elves so much he could speak their tongue and yet hate them enough to relish in his shame?
So instead of making the prince feel more at ease, it increased his agitation. Legolas was terrified of what he may want. There was no way he could be a friend.
Against his own will, his body started to tremble although he desperately tried to control it. But he couldn’t. He was too weak and in too much shock. The elf prince was losing control.
“n'shanesti” the word was so soft but it still managed to cut a tear into Aragorn’s heart as he heard the elf utter it “not elf friend.” It was not what he was expecting but before he could say anything else the door opened and he turned around to see Scarab came in.
Although no one else noticed, Aragorn’s finely tuned hearing picked up the slight gasp from the elf behind him and he found himself unconsciously putting himself between the prince and his torturer.
Scarab smiled at the ranger as he indicated the prince, “Not so royal looking now is he? I must say he’s downright colorful.”
Aragorn hid his hatred towards this man and didn’t say anything as he stepped aside and forced himself to remain disinterested looking.
“Strider, ranger of the dunedan, meet Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, “ Scarab ran a finger along a particularly painful looking bruise on the prince’s chest as he spoke and the elf was unable to keep from flinching, “See how he flinches at my very touch? This elf knows his master.”
“I have no master”, the proud voice was weak but shocked both rangers at its conviction. Scarab recovered first and smirked as he backhanded Legolas quickly in rapid succession until Aragorn grabbed his hand stopping him. He pretended not to be concerned about the elf but as the proud head hung down and blood ran freely from his busted lip, it was very difficult to do, “We don’t have time for this right now. We have orcs to hunt.”
Scarab pulled away and glared at the elf who didn’t even have the strength to return the glare, “You have many masters, elf – and all of them men.” Turning back to Aragorn he nodded, “Sorry about that but that but he is such a pleasure to beat…you should try it some time. However Strider, my scouts report this orc band to be larger then we previously thought. Come let’s go and discuss their obliteration.”
Aragorn nodded only too glad to draw this dangerous man away from the elf. He chanced a quick glance back at the elf but the proud being had not moved since Scarab hit him and Aragorn hoped he could hang on for just a bit longer. His mind was trying to figure out how Legolas fit into these plans – how was he the ‘secret weapon’?
Stepping out of the room, he started up the stairs out of the underground cellar the prince was being kept in and turned to say something to Scarab when he noticed that the man had not followed him right away but had turned back and said something to the guard. Aragorn’s blood ran cold as he caught the words, “Prepare him, I will be back shortly. His blood will lead us to victory tonight!”
The guard glanced up uneasily at Strider who pretended to be checking his sword as he involuntarily stiffened wondering what Scarab was talking about. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good, “What about him?”
Scarab brushed him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about Strider. He’s a ranger.” That seemed to placate the guard who went back into the small room with the elf as the big man hurried to catch up with Strider, “Sorry about that but I just needed to remind Guler to keep a close eye on the elf. As we both know, they’re tricky things to keep a hold on.”
Aragorn gave a weak smile as the other man clasped his back in a friendly gesture and never noticed the tensing of the other ranger beneath his hand as he ushered Aragorn towards a small hut where they could talk.
* * *
Legolas heard them leave as he tried to keep from passing out. It had been over two weeks since his capture and he had been starved, beaten and had hardly slept. His body was demanding that which he could not give it. And the ache in his hand was enough to drive him to insanity.
He had not seen the sun…or the stars since being confined in the cellar and he had not a lungful of fresh air except for the few during his escape attempt – only the smoke filled haze as Guler smoked incessantly. The tainted air burned the elf’s lungs as his body was not made for captivity but for freedom and it weighed as heavily on his heart, as did the manacles on his slender wrists that were torn and chaffed from his attempts to get free.
At first he had tried to keep his spirits up figuring that Lord Elrond would get worried when he didn’t arrive in Imladris on schedule but as the days now stretched into a fortnight, he was beginning to think that if rescue did come, it would not be in time.
How long would the Lord wait before he got concerned enough to send a search for the prince? His memories of the dark haired elf were scattered and he could no longer remember if he would even be concerned that he was overdue. Maybe his memory of the man was inaccurate and he would not worry at all. A fortnight is hardly overdue for an elf that kept time by millennia.
But…a single shared thread of hope was still in Legolas. Elladan and Elrohir.
Although he hadn’t seen them in a while, he always considered them some of his fondest friends and had known them since birth. They used to come and visit frequently but that stopped after their last visit.
Thinking about it forced a small sad smile on the regal lips – after what had happened the last time they were in Mirkwood, he well understood why they were hesitant to return very quickly. King Thranduil’s wrath had been swift…but in all honestly they had deserved it.
And Arwen. Ever like the sister in his first years, and then a mother in his latter years, he wondered if she knew that he was missing. The beautiful she-elf, and Evenstar to her people, had perceptions beyond even his heightened own…and he was said to be gifted. For all the good the gifts that seemed to be doing him now.
Legolas sighed. There was absolutely nothing he could do. This was an unfamiliar feeling and it did not sit well with the young prince. As Guler came and undid the restraints the look in his eyes was akin to pity and this new look send fresh fear throughout his youthful body – if this dark man pitied him his fate…then it did not bode well for him…
Hurry Elladan…hurry Elrohir, he thought, I can’t hold on much longer.
* * *
While Legolas was being ‘prepared’ for Scarab, Aragorn’s mind was quickly coming up with a plan to rescue him. At first he considered sending word to his family and wait for them but as it became painfully apparent, he did not have the luxury of time. And after seeing the way these rangers were treating the elf, he did not want the thought of any of his family falling into their hands.
The complete disregard they had for the elf and the joy they seemed to receive in his torment unsettled the young ranger. Rangers weren’t supposed to be like that – or at least that is what he had been led to believe. In his training, rangers and elves were kin and you don’t treat kin like this.
These were dark rangers. They may hide their darkness behind their noble ventures of orc hunting…but they were dark nonetheless.
Aragorn had a plan though and he figured it was a pretty good one. He would leave with the other rangers and during the chaos of the attack; he would double back and rescue the prince.
It was a good plan but unfortunately there was one thing that the young ranger had overlooked – Legolas did not have that much time.
* * *
It was getting dark and the rangers would be getting ready to ‘hunt’ soon. Aragorn watched them as they prepared. Weapons were checked and double-checked – nothing could be left to chance. And then Scarab came out of his hut and stood in the middle of the men obviously preparing to impart some last minute wisdom into his men, but as he spoke a chill settled over the young man as he realized just how dark these men were.
“My brothers…rangers of the realm. Tonight we prepare for the hunt… and it will be a glorious hunt! These orcs are stupid… but they are strong. We are smart but not as strong. In hand-to-hand combat, we are weak…. or should I say, we were weak but not anymore! “
Scarab looked each man in the face and then held Aragorn’s gaze to see what his reaction was going to be to his next statement as around him, the young ranger could feel the men’s excitement rising in anticipation. He just had no idea of what that anticipation was… until Scarab continued talking, “Not this time! We have been given a gift – an elf. But not just any elf – an Elven prince from the woodland realm where the fighters are fierce and quick.”
As if on cue, Guler pulled the almost catatonic elf up the stairs from the cellar and held him so everyone could see. Aragorn was horrified as he saw the vacant look on the regal face as Legolas’s eyes stared blankly ahead…not seeing anything… not caring about anything.
His mind screamed. What the hell had they done to him?
Scarab ignored the elf as he continued to watch the man he knew as Strider, “He stands here as a living testimony to his own strength and endurance. Any other being would have perished already. But not my prince…” he spat out the last words like a curse, “and tonight his blood will strengthen us all and we shall ride to victory with the edge that it has given us. Bring the elf!”
Legolas was dragged in front of Scarab and tossed at his feet. Still tucked away safely in his refuge, the prince’s consciousness was aware of what was happening but it was as if it were happening to someone else. His body though, acted on instinct and without thought and to everyone’s shock, he managed to catch himself before he fell and stood shakily for a moment before Guler clipped him across the back of the head and forced the prince to his knees.
Aragorn’s heart lurched as he desperately tried to think of how to rescue him. He still had no idea how bad it was going to get but he was sure they meant to kill the young elf no matter what. It was hard holding Scarab’s gaze as he spoke but the future king knew it would mean death to them both if he wavered.
So he did not and in fact the indifference that the dark ranger saw in Strider’s face bordered on boredom and he was pleased. Strider was going to be a fine asset to their cause.
And then Scarab turned his gaze to the dazed young elf in front of him, “Prince Legolas, I am so glad you could join us tonight…”, Scarab said pleasantly before leaning over and adding just for the prince’s ears, “my pet.”
Aragorn was too far away to hear what the man said to the elf but his sharp eyes caught the very slight shudder that ran through the prince’s body and he involuntarily stiffened as his mind still raced to formulate a plan. He shifted his gaze and saw the other rangers were all focused on what was going on in front of them and the blood lust he saw on their faces sickened him. He saw no sympathy amongst any of them – he could expect no help.
His attention reverted back to the elf as Scarab was speaking again, “Elves were given what we were not! It is not bad enough that they are more agile then us…. quicker then us…. stronger then us. No. They are also more fair then us…” he reached out and grabbed Legolas’s face and jerked the head to the side so everyone could see the beauty of the elf – even marred as it was right now. And then roughly released the prince and continued, “but they have been given immortality. Why? What have we done to not deserve such a gift? Nothing. We are men! And we deserve it! We deserve it much more then they!”
Around Aragorn, the men were voicing their support and he felt them rising into a mob. His hand rested on his sword as he readied… for what he wasn’t sure, but he was ready.
“But tonight the prince is going to share his gifts with us. Come my brothers, let us drink to our success!” This brought loud cheers from all the men, except one, as he become even more alarmed at this seeming change in direction.
However, a couple of seconds later, he got a sickening clarity of the connection and knew that he had run out of time.
* * *
Legolas felt the hands that grabbed him and roughly pulled him to his feet. He did not even try to fend them off – there was nothing he could do. It did not matter anymore. Closing his eyes, he was ready to meet his mother in the Halls of Mandos.
And then the world titled sickeningly just as he prepared to welcome the comfort of unconsciousness, he felt a searing pain across the wrist of his undamaged hand and he was unable to stifle the weak cry that came unbidden from his lips. The rangers had slashed his wrist.
Horror became Legolas as Scarab grabbed the bleeding wrist and with one mocking
glare lowered his lips to the wound and sucked hungrily on it. Instinctively,
the elf squirmed and tried to get away but they were holding him too strongly
and then he felt them forcing his damaged hand from his body and he knew what
they were going to do. Already other rangers were greedily pushing for their
share. He felt their hands all over him as his head was pulled back and he was
lost beneath them.
…don’t leave me here…don’t leave me here…
…take me with you!
* * *
A red-hot blaze obscured his vision as Aragorn drew his sword and advanced on the mob that had swarmed the prince. He could hear what was going on and he fought back the queasiness – cannibalism that was what this was and although he knew it would be suicide, he could not let them do this.
Whatever reservation he might have held about killing other rangers did not extend to these creatures for they were not real men to him but orcs in human skin. There was no other way he could justify what they were doing.
Aragorn pushed and fought his way towards the prince. In the heat of their
lust, the rangers did not even realize that he had turned against them or
noticed when he drew his sword to stop them.
But Scarab did.
He saw the look on the young rangers face as he pushed his way towards the elf and he knew. It was not the look of a man eager for his own turn. No, it was the look of a man who had seen too much and was going to end it.
Just as Aragorn managed to gain Legolas’s side, he got unexpected assistance.
“ORCS!”
In the fray of their bloodlust they had failed to notice that their commotion had attracted the unwanted attention of the very prey they were preparing to seek. And for the first time in his life, Aragorn was relived to be attacked by orcs.
In the ensuing chaos, he grabbed the prince up in his arms and raced into the woods. He never looked back and ran as if the dark Lord Sauron was the very one behind him.
* * *
As the Orcs advanced, Scarab immediately leapt into battle feeling the invigorating pulse of the elf’s blood in his body. His head swam euphorically as he slashed and hacked his way swiftly through his adversaries. His kin had been right – the elf prince’s blood had much more potency in it then the other elves he had consumed.
A fleeting glance over his shoulder caught Strider’s escape with the young elf in his arms and Scarab smiled. He would let Strider have the burden of saving the prince. And then later, when his ‘pet’ had recovered, he would go and claim him again. This prince’s potency was too powerful to waste.
“But next time, my pet” he said hacking an orcs head off, “I won’t be sharing.”
* * *
As the young ranger raced from the rogues’ camp he let out a shrill whistle. He did not stop and wait for the horse but continued running. He had no idea whether or not Scarab would pursue them but even more pressing were the prince’s wounds.
He managed to keep pressure on the slashed wrist as he held him tightly to his chest but he could feel his hands getting slick and glancing down, he somehow managed to pick up his pace even more as he saw the pallor of the elf.
No, Prince Legolas could not die. Not know and not like this.
It was bad enough when they thought that some unknown had killed him with bows and arrows…but this. This was an atrocity.
“Hang on mellon…hang on”, he spoke softly in the melodic grey tongue to give the unconscious being whatever ease he could. He just hoped it would be enough.
The sound of hoof beats behind him was welcome as his horse galloped towards them.
Oh thank the valar…Aragorn thought. His horse could carry them much quicker then his feet could.
* * *
Elrond heard the cry of the great falcon before he saw it. His heart sank as he recognized the bird as of the kind favored by the King of Mirkwood and knew instantly this was his messenger.
Holding out his arm, he bade the bird to land and was for one second taken aback as he thought he recognized the noble bird, “Adria?” he whispered. No it couldn’t be…falcons don’t live forever. The queen’s own bird would be beyond dust now.
Menel’ohtar cocked his head as he took in the dark haired Lord and then he lifted his leg and let out a little trill to direct the elf to his task.
Elrond shook his head as he quickly untied the small pouch, “Sorry wise one, “ he said, “I mistook you for someone else.” Although this bird could not be Adria, the lord had no way of knowing just how close to the truth he was as Menel’ohtar was a descendent of that noble bird.
The bird lowered its head and then before Elrond knew what it was intending, the great hunting falcon of the king let out a long, shrill cry as if its very heart was pierced and the elven lord was momentarily stunned. This bird knew. It knew its message and it was grieved by it.
In that one instance, the elven Lord of Imaldris was treated to a rare glimpse of why the royalty of Mirkwood favored these birds. And the knowledge saddened him.
Legolas was being carried – that much he knew.
He heard a soft voice whisper to him in his own tongue and he felt some relief even as the jarring threatened what little lucidity he had left. He heard a horse approaching and then a small groan escaped his lips as he felt himself being raised upon the beasts back. The accompanying pain sent him reeling back into oblivion.
* * *
“Legolas?” Aragorn heard the small groan as he eased the elf onto the horse before climbing up behind him. The elf in his arms momentarily tensed before going limp again.
“I’m sorry”, he whispered as the horse spun around and started its furious race to Imladris.
* * *
“ADA!”
The yell shattered the peace of the house and sent elves scrambling from all quarters to see what was the matter even as the horse slowed down in the courtyard, its sides heaving and lathered in sweat.
Elrond came from his study at a furious swiftness having recognized the sound of panic in his youngest son’s voice with Elladan and Elrohir seconds behind him.
Aragorn had dismounted and was running towards them and Elrond stared in disbelief for one second at the burden in his son’s arms before hurrying him into the house and up to his own room. Legolas.
“Quickly Estel”, Elrond instructed as Aragorn laid the unconscious prince down on the bed as gently as he could.
“Oh Legolas”, he heard Elladan say softly behind him as the twins took in the damage that had been done to their friend. They hardly recognized him but had no time for reflection as their father was already calling out instruction to them as he gently undid the prince’s tunic and started to access the injures, “Elladan get me athelas! Elrohir…warm water and cloths! Estel…bandages!”
Lord Glorfindel hurried in as the three sons left and he took in the sight of the heir of Mirkwood quickly moving to Elrond’s side to help. Elrond nodded to acknowledge his friend as he quickly assessed the injuries in an attempt to triage the worst ones first. He was grateful for the other lord’s help.
Although he was an unsurpassed healer, Elrond knew he would need Glorfindel’s strength for the young prince as well as his own, if he was going to survive. Legolas’s injuries were grievous, and the Lord of Imladris was fighting back the fear that he might not be able to save him. For even worst then what he could see was the darkness he sensed pressing down on the prince as if to squash out his very life.
A quick glance at Glorfindel told him that the other lord sensed it as well. This young light was in peril of going out forever.
The three younger elves returned from their errands and then left the room to wait outside. The powerful lord’s could not afford any distraction as they fought to keep the prince to life.
* * *
“What happened?” Elladan finally asked as they waited outside their father’s room. The twins were sitting cross legged on the floor as Aragorn paced – the night too unsettling for him to allow himself to stop even now that he had gotten Legolas back to his father.
Hearing his brother’s question, he did stop for a moment and scrutinized the older elf. He didn’t really want to tell them everything until he spoke with his father. He knew how his brother’s felt about Legolas and was sure that once they heard about the dark ranger’s intent, the twins would demand satisfaction.
And it was too dangerous for them to go after Scarab and his men. Although dark, they were still rangers and it was bitterly apparent at how good they were at hunting elves. No, Aragorn couldn’t tell them yet… so he just shook his head and didn’t look at them.
Ellladan and Elrohir shared a glance each wondering what was so bad that their younger brother wouldn’t tell them. However, they could be patient and right now they were too concerned about Legolas to try and twist it out of him…yet.
The morning found three young ones asleep outside their father’s door. Aragorn had finally succumbed to exhaustion as the adrenaline weaved out of his system and he was sleeping with his head on one of Elladan’s legs. Elrohir had his head on the other while Elladan slept with his head tilted back against the wall.
And that was how Elrond found them when he opened the door and almost tripped over Aragorn.
“Estel?” he said sounding as drained as he felt, “Elladan? Elrohir?” He wasn’t really surprised to see them there but he was surprised to see them on the floor.
“Ada!” Aragorn stiffly rose to his feet. Sleeping on the cold stone always made him a bit stiff in the morning, “How’s Legolas?” The sweet, healing smell of athelas, a powerful medicinal flower, wafted from the room as Elrond closed the door.
Elrond sighed and indicated for his sons to follow him to the study. Once there he sat and gratefully accepted a cup of hot steaming broth from his old friend Lord Lucian, who was still staying at the Last Homely Home, also waiting anxiously for word on the young prince.
The exhausted Lord looked at each of his children slowly before answering. He knew how the twins felt about Legolas and of what Aragorn must have gone through to bring him home.
When he did finally speak, his voice was grave and his sons prepared themselves for the worst, “Legolas was very badly used….” Lucian’s eyes narrowed slightly but he did not say anything.
Elrond didn’t know what else to say for a few moments as he shook his head once again at the atrocity that had befallen the fair prince, “His body has been badly beaten and broken. If…when he recovers, I do not know if the fingers that were so cruelly ruined will ever string a bow as they had done in the past…it is too early to tell.”
Elrond shook his head in sorrow as, although he had yet to hear how this had happened to Legolas, he could tell that the fingers had been deliberately injured. He heard the slight gasps of the twins and Aragorn avoided looking at them confirming Elrond’s suspicions that none of the Prince’s damage was accidental.
Steeling himself he pressed forward. They needed to know the full extend of Legolas’s injuries…just in case, “what has been done to him is appalling. It has touched a part of him that he will not open to even Lord Glorfindel or me…and I fear for what he holds there as it is shadowing his hopes for recovery. We will need to keep vigil with him until we are sure he no longer seeks to tread the halls of Mandos. Right now…I just do not know.” He said the last part softly as he leaned back and closed his eyes.
His mind was searching for the answer that the prince was withholding and it bothered him because he had seen the wounds on his body and had a strong suspicion of what it might be. But until he was sure, he could not help him.
Aragorn cleared his throat and Elrond opened his eyes and looked at them. He wanted to talk to his youngest son and sensed that he needed to speak with him alone.
Nodding, Elrond smiled tiredly at his twin sons, “Elladan…Elrohir, can you please see to it that something is brought to the room for Lord Glorfindel. I need to speak to your brother for a few moments.” The twins nodded and hurried from the room. Although they were interested to find out what had happened, they were more anxious to see Legolas first. They had known him since he came to Imladris as a newborn…they needed to see him now.
* * *
Elrond fixed his son with a gentle smile as he bade him to start speaking, “Estel?”
Aragorn swallowed back the lump in his throat, as he knew how his father was going to feel once he heard about the rangers and their betrayal…but he needed to know, “Ada…the prince and his escort were set on by a band of rogue rangers.”
Elrond was shocked but hid it as he bade his son to continue but with every word that Aragorn said, he felt a sharp pain sear right through is heart, “They captured the prince and tortured him. But that is not the worst…” he wanted to prepare his father and Elrond nodded slowly with creeping realization that his worst suspicions might be true, “they were tracking a group of orcs and were supposed to attack them last night…but before they did, they decided…they…they needed an edge. Ada they were in blood lust!”
The horror of saying it brought it home to the young ranger and he paced as he continued speaking growing more furious that he had not even had a chance to kill the men who had done this to the young elf, “they thought that if they drank Legolas’s blood…that they could have his strength…so they…so…” Aragorn couldn’t finish the sentence and before he knew it, his father had crossed the room, grabbed him tightly in his arms, and was comforting him, “It’s okay Estel…ssshh…it’s okay. You’re both here now. And that’s all that matters.” But even as Elrond said the words he tried to keep his body from shuddering as he pictured a band of madman descending on the prince for his blood.
But now he sure he knew what the prince was keeping locking away from them. He just hoped he could help him before he was too far beyond.
* * *
Legolas bolted into consciousness startling Lord Glorfindel who had spent the night keeping watch over him. His heart was pounding and it took him a couple of seconds to realize he was not in the cellar anymore as the early morning sun bathed his room in a warm glow.
“Legolas?”, the elven Lord’s soft voice drew the distraught elf’s attention to him and he stared at him with a confused look on his face.
Glorfindel laid a reassuring hand on the younger elf’s arm but Legolas flinched and he immediately removed it, a bit surprised, but saying nothing, “You are safe, “ he told him as he saw the bewildered look on the young prince’s face, “You are in Imladris. Rivendell. In the house of Elrond.” He thought his words would bring the distraught youngster some comfort but instead it seemed to wind him up more as he shook his head still not saying anything.
Legolas refused to believe his own eyes. He had been so hurt that he feared his mind was playing a trick on him and that he would awake once more in that dank cellar.
He did trust the blond elven Lord who sat with him now as Glorfindel had often spent time in Mirkwood as a guest and was known to Legolas since he was a young elfling. However, his tormented mind could not believe so quickly.
After moments that stretched an eternity, Legolas reached out tentatively with his good hand, reluctantly daring to validate what he saw. Glorfindel stayed perfectly still allowing the distraught elf his inquiry. He saw the suspicion in the prince’s eyes and knew that his patience was required.
Legolas touched the fair face of the other and then withdrew his fingers back as if they were burned by the contact. Shivering slightly, he pulled his knees up to his chest ignoring the pain that the movement brought him. His gaze lingered on his bandaged hand momentarily before shutting his eyes.
It was true.
Lord Glorfindel was real and although that brought him some measure of comfort it also tormented him even more. Everything was real. It wasn’t a dream.
“Legolas…. what is wrong?”, Glorfindel whispered quietly, his brow furrowed in concern over Legolas’s lack of response to him. He did not understand why Legolas had even withdrawn even more after solidifying him.
Legolas never answered him. Instead the young prince suddenly raised his head and stared at the door, his eyes wide and disbelieving.
Glorfindel rose from the bedside and turned just as the door opened and the Lord of Imladris came in quietly. His grave features lightened considerably when he saw the young royal awake and watching him with lucid…if not guarded eyes.
“Well young prince, you have decided to visit after all, “ he said smiling gently at the pale being sitting tensely on the bed.
Legolas wasn’t looking at Lord Elrond though; the one who slipped into the room with the lord – a young human man with stormy eyes, caught his face and thoughts.
Immediately, the prince started to tremble as he recognized this man and he quickly drew his legs up under him so he was crouching coiled on the bed instead of sitting up. He stifled a groan as his body protested.
Both the lords was stunned by his reaction and looked to see what has caused it.
In that one moment of distraction, Legolas steeled himself for what he knew was going to be extremely painful and twisted around and was out the window before anyone could fathom what he was going to do.
“LEGOLAS!” Three voices yelled in shock as they raced to the window expecting to see his body sprawled on the ground beneath. But it wasn’t. In fact when they looked out, there was no sign of the wood-elf, it was as if he had just disappeared!
Aragorn was amazed. He had never seen an elf move like that, especially an injured elf, “What just happened?” he asked rubbing his eyes to see if he had missed anything.
Lord Glorfindel didn’t say anything as he looked at the young man for a few moments before trading a look with the other lord. Elrond nodded in quiet acquiescence and the blond elf left the room so quietly that he might have never been there, leaving Elrond and his youngest son standing alone.
Elrond turned away from the window and sighed. He knew why the young elf bolted. Both he and Glorfindel had felt it so intensely it had stunned them. But they recognized it immediately for what it was – fear.
Legolas had been terrified of Aragorn but the elven lord wasn’t sure how to say that his son. He didn’t want him to feel guilty because a terribly injured young elf had just risked death to jump from an unknown window…just because he had come into the room.
“Why did Legolas do that?” Aragorn didn’t understand. The young prince’s behavior did not fit with what he knew about elves.
Elrond sighed and turned his eyes to his younger son so he could fully gauge his reaction to him, “Estel, he was terrified.”
“Terrified?” Aragorn repeated not understanding, “Of what?”
“Not of what, my son. Of whom, “ Elrond saw the quiet understanding even as he spoke, the young ranger had figured it out, “Of you. When you entered the room, the fear that radiated the prince was so intense it overtook both my and Lord Glorfindel’s senses and we were unable to stop his desperate flight. I am just relieved that he was as nimble as a squirrel and did not end up on the stones. It would have been a bad fall.”
Aragorn was stunned at the admission hardly believing that the elf he had worked so hard to rescue was afraid of him but he pushed that to the back of his mind as he thought of something more pressing, “We have to find him. He’s hurt and he might get caught again.”
Elrond was once again amazed by the depth of compassion that his youngest son
had, “Yes. Lord Glorfindel had already started a search. However it will not
be easy….”
“I’ll start as well”, Aragorn started cutting his father off as he was anxious to see Legolas returned to his father’s house again but Elrond held up his hand, “Let me finish Estel. You cannot help this time. I will send your brothers. They know Legolas. The prince is hurt and will not be thinking clearly. Your brothers and Glorfindel will find him. I dare not send anyone else lest Legolas not know them.”
Aragorn nodded his head. It did make sense. Besides after the young elf’s run in with the dark rangers, he would not be too trusting of a man tracking him.
So sighing in resignation, Aragorn nodded and stayed behind as his father gave his brother instructions.
Lord Lucian appeared from one of the side rooms and listened carefully as Elrond explained to his sons what had happened. He stood serenely and only when he saw that the Lord of the manor had finished speaking, he added quietly, “Be careful. We do not know in what mind the young prince is. Even injured, Legolas is lethal.“
Aragorn shivered as he heard Lucian’s advice. Although he had known the other dark haired Lord since coming to live at the Last Homely Home, he did not share the same affection for him as his adopted family and something about him always made the young rangers flesh crawl – he just couldn’t’ place his finger on it.
Elrond nodded slowly and spoke after Lucian, his voice laced with the pain and sadness that still filled him from the radiating terror that he had sensed when Legolas saw Aragorn, “and he is afraid.”
Elladan nodded, “Don’t worry father. We will take the proper care in all matters.”
And then he and Elrohir were gone, silently blending into the forest around them as they sought their most elusive prey – the prince of Mirkwood.
Legolas was hurting. His whole body was demanding attention he had not given it and he knew the few seconds head start would not get him very far. He did not remember much of the lay of Rivendell from his last visit and quickly sought a refuge from where he could watch things but not be seen.
In the night, he would leave his hiding place and seek what he needed. So landing lightly on his feet, he quickly took to the trees and found an old friend not far from Elrond’s house. It was tall with strong limbs and thick leaves and he painfully scurried up its thick trunk, his own movements hindered by his broken fingers and injured wrist. He felt the tree’s quiet reassurance as it sighed in contentment in a way only trees could do. It had been a long time since it held a wood-elf in its embrace. And this young one was familiar to it.
The young archer saw them looking for him and felt slight remorse at the look of concern on both the lords face but then he saw the man and his remorse was immediately replaced. This man had betrayed him but he didn’t know why. He knew him not and had no quarrel with him.
So as Legolas leaned his aching body against the tree, he closed his eyes and tuned his ears to the last Homely Home – he wanted to know what was going on.
However, the need for rest slowly overtook the young elf and without his leave, he drifted into sleep.
* * *
“Do you think we’ll find him?” Elrohir quietly asked his older brother as they left their father’s house although he couldn’t help but think that this had been a lot easier when Legolas had been little.
“No…”, Elladan replied promptly and before Elrohir could say anything he continued, “but that will not stop us from trying. Legolas is a dear friend and even if we cannot find him, we will make it so he can find us.”
Nodding in understanding the brothers passed quietly beneath the very tree that harbored the sleeping prince.
* * *
The bird watched from far above as he had been circling incessantly since arriving at the Last Homely Home. His heart had been broken as he understood what his message would be and he, as birds are ought to do, took solace in the skies.
He had seen the young ranger run into the house but only got a mere glimpse with his sharp eyes of the burden the ranger carried. And now Menel’ohtar swooped lower to the rooftops as the twins left. He had seen the elf he considered a brother leap from the window as if a squirrel instead of an elf and take to the tree.
And now unseen by any, the bird effortlessly dropped into the tree and stared down at the sleeping form of the young prince. Ever vigilant, this bird of the king took his place on a branch above his head and kept watch. He would protect Legolas with his life – as also is what birds are ought to do.
* * *
Elrond led Aragon back to his study and began sifting through the large volume of books he kept until he finally found the one he was looking for. It was very old and dusty, and the young man doubted that it had been opened in a long time.
His father had the most priceless collection of books in Middle Earth but the ranger had no idea what they were doing in here right now. He highly doubted that his father had thought it was a good time to ‘catch up’ on some of his reading.
Elrond muttered to himself as he quickly scanned the pages looking for something.
And although he was dying to know what his father was looking for, Aragorn kept silent. He knew that he would be told when it was time.
Presently, Elrond found what he was looking for and he sat down heavily, quietly reading the passage. It was small and would have been easily overlooked if not for the fact that the Lord had stumbled across it once before, a long time ago when he was very young elf. And the atrocity of which it spoke had burned itself into his memory in such a way that he was able to find it now.
Aragorn glanced over his father’s shoulder although it really did no good as it was written in a text that he could not read, although it was very beautiful to look at.
Elrond sighed and sat the book down before turning an unreadable look on his son and then gestured to one of the chairs near the fire, “Sit Estel.” His voice was grave and weary.
The young man sat down as his father moved to the chair across from him. The Elf Lord stared into the fire for a long time as he digested the information in the passage. He was not positive that this had anything to do with Legolas but it’s similarity to his situation was alarming enough.
Finally he spoke, “The rogues were right.”
Aragorn’s eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what he was saying. Between Lucian and now Elrond, he had had enough of cryptic ness to last him a lifetime…at least until Mithrandir or Gandalf the Gray came by again. The ancient wizard was famed for hiding his words behind his statements and it wore the young man out trying to follow a conversation with him.
So he said, tiredly slumping back in the seat as he had still not fully recovered from his desperate race to save Legolas’s life the day before, “I don’t understand.”
Elrond gave him a small smile and then turned his attention back to the fire. He found it hard to look into his son’s eyes as he was about to make a revelation to him that would forever change how Aragorn saw Elves, “The blood of an elf is a potent thing indeed.”
The young ranger blanched even as his father continued, “Agarval. Blood power. Few know it…and among the few, the race of men was supposed to not have. However, through some darkness that I have yet to identify, this information has been shared.”
He paused as he sighed wearily, the ramifications of it being public knowledge terrified the elf, “If taken directly from a living elf, the blood that is ingested will instill in a man feelings of euphoria that will allow him to do things that might otherwise be impossible. Hence the belief that it will make you stronger, faster…even immortal. However that is incorrect, immortality is not a gift for the race of man, regardless of how they pursue it.”
Aragorn was stunned and the Lord was actually amused to see his son’s jaw drop open in shock. Reaching over gently, he hooked his finger underneath the chin and pushed it up. The young man grabbed his father’s hand to hold it there as he fought the overwhelming nausea that came with the knowledge, “N-no.”
Elrond shook his head sadly, “I’m sorry Estel…but yes. The knowledge is ancient and thought to have been lost, except for the one passage that is contained in this book”, he held the book tightly to him, “but somehow it has gotten out. And now I am terrified of what this could mean for the race of Elves.”
The horror on the young rangers face was a mirror of the feelings in his own soul, but Elrond did not dare tell his son everything that he knew about this matter, yet. Just in case he was wrong. He needed to talk to Legolas first. And then, hopefully, he would better know how this dreadful knowledge had gotten out of Imladris.
“Ada”, Aragorn’s voice turned his gaze back to his son, “I don’t think Legolas was their first… sacrifice”. He didn’t have a better word for it and Elrond knew immediately what he was referring to.
Over the past couple of months, three other elves had gone missing in Rivendell. A matter of months is not a big thing for an immortal so no one was worried that they had yet to return – elven punctuality was a matter of perception.
But with this revelation of blood lusting rangers, their tardiness was taking a
more serious turn.
“I fear you are right. I do not think they would have taken the Prince’s escort if it were the first time, “ Elrond’s heart heavied with each word and Aragorn shook his head in distain and growing anger that he had not managed to kill them.
Elrond read his growing self-condemnation, “It is not your fault Estel. You saved the prince. If you had done anything different, then neither of you…” he gave a wry smile at the thought of the runaway prince, “then you would not be here right now. And Legolas would be dead.”
“Speaking of which, I wonder if he’s been found yet?” Aragorn asked running a hand across his face.
Elrond paused for a few moments as if listening to something and then a slight smile played across his lips as he remembered the last time the young prince had run away in Imladris, “Oh I am sure he has. I doubt he had run as far as you may think.”
* * *
Legolas awoke with a start – someone was in the tree with him. Before he could react he heard a quiet voice, “Peace Legolas. It is only I.”
The prince relaxed a bit as he turned wary eyes on the blond elf lord as the older one nimbly sat down beside him and cast a worried eye over the prince, his voice a mere whisper, “How are you feeling?”
Legolas didn’t answer as slight movements above him made him look up and he was shocked to see the bright eyes of his father’s falcon staring back down at him.
Menel’ohtar… he thought as he lay back gently against the trunk of the tree and he closed his eyes…Now I know I am dreaming. Opening them again he reached up with a slight grimace and stroked the bird’s brown plumage ensuring himself that this was real.
Glorfindel smiled as he watched the quiet interaction between the prince and the bird. He had often hunted with King Thranduil in Mirkwood and understood why the royals loved these birds. And it was a good thing that he had been there recently or else he never would have gotten anywhere near the prince with his feathered guardian standing over him. As it was he still felt the bird’s wary eye on him.
Legolas smiled for a moment before settling his gaze back on the other elf in the tree and asked in a hushed tone, “Are you here to take me back?”
It was the first words the young prince had spoken since regaining consciousness in the guest room and Glorfindel watched the younger elf carefully, not understanding why he was behaving as if Elrond’s house was a jail. Knowing the youngster he was dealing with, very well, the blond lord decided on another tactic as he cast a furtive eye over Rivendell, “That depends on who you are.”
That caught the young prince by surprise, “Who I am?” he repeated hollowly.
The older elf didn’t say anything and finally Legolas was forced to respond, “I am Legolas, heir of Thranduil. Prince of Mirkwood.”
Glorfindel kept his face stoic although it was difficult from keeping the mirth from his lips as he heard the resignation in the younger elf’s voice as he confirmed who he was. Deep down he felt tremendous relief that the youngster still laid claim to who he was, in light of the atrocity that the rangers had inflicted on him.
When he had lingered in silence, Glorfindel had concerned that Legolas might be lost to them as he had been so many years earlier after his mother’s death. It had taken much from the King to finally help his son find his voice and that was something Glorfindel never wished to witness again.
But now that the youth had conceded his identity, the great Lord did not have to convince the elf to return to the house, the young prince would make the decision himself.
Although he had almost forgotten it, his brief rest in the embrace of the great tree had reminded him that he was much more then what Scarab had tried to force him to believe.
He was the son of a king…and a guest of a respected Lord. He could not stay and hide like someone he wasn’t…no matter how fearful he was. But it was something that the prince had to do himself.
Glorfindel was not naive enough to think that if he made the elf go back to Elrond’s, that he would stay there.
No, the prince had to go back on his own accord.
Legolas knew this as well and he cursed his own weakness. He never should have left and it disgraced him that he had fled in such a manner…. Hanging his head in shame, he slowly turned to climb down but the other elf caught his arm gently as he was ever mindful of the younger one’s injuries.
Glorfindel was himself amazed by the fact that the elf had gotten into the tree without killing himself, a climb made even more difficult with a hand injury. Legolas stopped at his touch but did not look at the Lord, too great was his shame.
Glorfindel said gently, “Legolas. You have nothing to fear in the house of Elrond. You are safe.”
Legolas stiffened slightly knowing that the lord meant well. Glorfindel just did not understand the fear that had laced through his very being at the sight of one of his tormentors in his “haven”. This man had been there.
Shivering slightly, he just nodded and slowly made his way out of the tree.
Glorfindel followed him quickly, ever ready to grab him if the prince should falter, but to his own credit, Legolas did manage to get out of the great tree on his own and only wavered slightly when his feet touched the ground nodding his thanks when the Lord’s hand steadied him.
He had shinnied all the way down the trunk instead of jumping as Glorfindel did landing gracefully on the ground next to him – there was no way his body could handle another joust as the one he had taken when he leapt from the bedroom window. So he climbed all the way down.
Over their heads, the bird of prey took to the skies where he would watch over the young prince until he was sent back to Mirkwood.
“Thank you mellon-nim”, the wood-elf placed a gentle hand against the bark as he closed his eyes and spoke softly to the tree that had held him. Then reluctantly he turned away and followed Lord Glorfindel back to the house.
* * *
A soft knock on the door made Aragorn look up as Lord Elrond bade whomever to enter. They were still in the library as Elrond needed to address Thranduil’s inquiry. They were at a loss what to say and so had just sat quietly together for the past little while.
The familiar blond elven Lord stepped into the room and before they could ask about his success, a smaller, wearier elf slipped in next to him. Legolas.
The young prince spoke softly but did not look up at either the elf or the man in the room, “I am sorry about my earlier behavior my Lord. I beg your forgiveness. It was very rude of me to take my leave of you in such an… an abrupt manner. If it pleases you, I would like to continue as a guest in your house.”
Elrond moved towards the distressed elf and said kindly, “You have done nothing to need my forgiveness my young prince. However, I would ask that in the future, if you require leave of me, that you use a more traditional method. Your injuries would appreciate that consideration even more then I would.” His attempt at levity was lost on the younger elf that was too distressed to notice. Legolas knew that the young ranger was in the room and was finding it very difficult to be there.
He could smell the scent of the man and it made his skin crawl from the memories of his attack.
Lord Elrond’s eyes narrowed as he not only sensed Legolas’s growing agitation but could see it in the younger one’s actions as he fidgeted with the bandage on his hand, “Are you okay fair Prince?” he asked softly trying to draw the elf’s attention to him.
He was suspecting that it was once again Aragorn’s presence that was upsetting his guest and resolved to talk to Legolas about his own suspicions when the time was right. But not now, he knew that the elf was too weary.
Legolas nodded hastily wanting out of the room, “Y-yes…n-no. I just need some rest.” He flinched slightly when he felt Lord Glorfindel rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder and the great lord removed it, sorrowing that his attempt at consolation grieved the wood-elf. He caught the other lord’s eye knowingly and Elrond nodded slowly, “Then take your leave of us and retire to your room. I will come by a little later to check your wounds.”
Legolas nodded almost imperceptibly and turned to follow Glorfindel out of the room, only too relived to be away from the ranger. He hated himself for this weakness but his wounds were still too raw and his mind had yet to overcome his natural reactions. He would heal in time…if the man would give him any.
* * *
Aragorn watched the prince leave and his brow wrinkled in concern, “It’s me again isn’t it?”
“What?” Lord Elrond asked caught off guard as he was still mulling over the younger elf’s reaction. There was something he was missing, he was sure of it.
“Being around me. That’s why the prince is so upset isn’t it?” Aragorn, ever perceptive, had not failed to notice the distress that the prince was going through and Elrond sighed – there was no use denying it.
“Yes, I think so my son. But don’t take it to heart. I am sure it is not you that is cause for his concern, but rather the freshness of his abuse. Give him time.”
Aragorn nodded, “Don’t worry – I know it’s not about me. I didn’t do anything to him…well unless he is upset that I rescued him.” The ranger’s attempt at levity caught his father off guard and he started to refute the silliness of the statement when he realized that Aragorn was jesting, “Oh Estel – you give me gray hairs. Now off with you and call back your brother’s or else I fear they will be gone for years searching for our found guest.”
With a sloppy bow, Aragorn grinned and left the library sobering as he passed the guest room where the prince was staying. He frowned slightly, bothered that his mere presence should be upsetting to any elf, let alone this one and resolved to talk to his brothers about what he might be able to do to overcome this.
He knew that they had a long history with the prince and was counting on them having some way to help him restore himself in the elf’s eyes.
* * *
Elrond watched his human son leave before deciding to go and check on their visitor. He suspected that the flight from the window had aggravated Legolas’s injuries…besides he was also anxious to speak to the young elf that he had not seen in such a long time.
* * *
Legolas tensed when he sensed the man pass his door. Glorfindel had left after he assured him he was going to get some rest. But as the young prince lay on the soft mattress, he found that rest would not come. Not while he felt that something ill was stirring in the house of Elrond. That was the only answer that the prince could come up with as he mulled over the young ranger who was at both his captivity and his sanctuary and he feared for the house that he thought of as his second family.
Hearing the human leave, he quickly left the room and silently followed him. He wanted to know what this man was up to.
It was difficult going as his own body threatened to betray him with its stiffness and pain. But the young prince merely held his injured hand tightly to his body, and pressed on. With treachery afoot, he could ill afford his own weakness.
The familiar cry high in the sky above him gave him strength as he felt his father’s comforting presence through the bird that flew overhead.
His leaving the house had not gone unnoticed and Menel’ohtar kept his keen eyes on him.
* * *
Lucian stood at the window and watched the silvan elf as he deftly ran from the house. His eyes narrowed for a moment as he watched the stiffness with which the prince moved. The sleuth of an elf but not the grace… he was definitely hurting.
As the prince moved out of sight, a sinister idea formed in back of Lucian’s mind…one that even the dark Lord Sauron would be proud of.
* * *
One other witnessed the Prince’s departure.
Tossing his noble head in concern, the gray Elven stallion pawed the ground anxiously. Nim’loki hated to be left behind.
* * *
Lord Elrond stood in the empty room his brow furrowed in concern.
Legolas was gone…again.
* * *
Elladan held up his hand to silence his twin. He had heard someone coming. With a quick signal, the twins nimbly took to the trees and waited. They were sure it wasn’t Legolas as the young elf would never make that much noise but it could be one of the rogue rangers and they wouldn’t be caught off-guard.
But a couple of long minutes later, they saw the familiar form of their younger brother and immediately pounced on him when he walked beneath them. A slight scuffle ensued and the young ranger was easily pinned.
“Hollar for Ada!” Elladan said laughing, trying to squash the squirming ranger as Elrohir could barely manage to keep the young man’s lower trunk under control. But Aragorn wasn’t having anything to do with it and refused until finally in exasperation he growled, “Ada! Now let me up you tree orcs or I will tell Ada!’
Laughing, the twins relinquished their hold on their brother and then hauled him to his feet.
“Estel what are we going to do with you? You were too easily caught being as loud as a drunk warg!” Elladan laughed as he watched the ranger try and brush the grass off his clothes.
“Looking for you. If I moved with stealth, I might not find you. However, Now I am regretting coming”, Aragorn growled, “I should have left you to your search for a little while longer. Legolas has been found.”
The relief was evident on his brothers faces even as Elrohir pressed, “Is he okay?”
Aragorn threw him a look and the younger twin amended his question, “Was he injured any further?”
Smiling Aragorn shook his head, “I don’t think so. He came back and apologized to father for his behavior and then took to his bed.”
The twins shared a look before Elladan repeated in disbelief, “Legolas just took to his bed? He must be dying – brothers we should hasten home. This is serious!”
Alarmed, Aragorn was concerned that they must be right when he caught the glinting look of mischief in Elladan’s eyes as Elrohir could hardly contain his laughter, “Oh you should see your face Estel! It is priceless!”
Aragorn rolled his eyes and decided to ignore his brothers even as they ran to catch up with him.
“We’re sorry Estel”, Elrohir started to apologize, “but the thought of Legolas just ‘taking to his bed’ left too much opportunity to pass up.”
“Yes, you have to understand. As a patient, I know none more reluctant or difficult as the prince of Mirkwood. It takes restraint to keep him in bed to be treated, let alone for him to go willingly.”
As Aragorn heard them talking about their friend it reminded him of what he wanted to talk to them about and he stopped so he could have their undivided attention, as well as to see if they were trying to set him up again!
“’Dan…’Ro, I need your help”, the seriousness in the rangers voice sobered the twins up immediately and they became equally serious, “Legolas is afraid of me…”
“Ah”, Elladan said knowingly in a gesture that was so much like his father as he had a strong suspicion of what the young human was going to ask.
Aragorn continued, “And since you and Ro have known him for a long time, I thought you might have some idea what I can do to convince him that I mean him no harm…you know like put in a good word for me or something.”
The twins shared a long look as they both contemplated the problem. Normally they would have taken the wide opening that the ranger had given them and used it to poke fun at him and tease him, but they understood that right now that would not be such a good idea. Besides, knowing Legolas as well as they did, they suspected that the elf was not at home ‘resting’ but probably much closer. So they tread their ground lightly in case of other elven ears.
“Estel. We will talk to Legolas. I do not know what he knows about you but we will enlighten him. And then he will see that you are no one to be feared…well not by elves anyway. However, “ Elladan sized up his adopted brother carefully, “does Legolas know that you are the one who rescued him?”
* * *
A little ways away, the young elf prince was indeed overhearing the conversation and he felt himself tense as he heard Elladan’s question. His head started to whirl at the implication – this man had saved him?
* * *
Aragorn shook his head, “I don’t know…I think so”, but then he paused and pursed his lips together before shaking his head, “He was unconscious so I don’t know…maybe not…unless Lord Glorfindel told him. He didn’t really stick around long enough for any explanations.”
“Estel”, Elrohir’s soft voice asked, “What happened to him?”
Aragorn squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to block out the image of the prince being attacked and shook his head, “Ro…it’s too horrible. I can’t…I can’t tell you about it right now. Please understand.”
The twins looked at him compassionately although their stomachs churned as they wondered what could have been so horrible that the young ranger could not talk to them about it.
And then to their surprise a soft voice spoke up behind them, “Please. Tell me.” In his own retreat, the prince was left with only sketchy details of much of the events that occurred after the young ranger left the cellar.
Three heads turned in shock to see the pale, forlorn face of the elven prince standing behind him. His head was still reeling as he tried to make sense out of the confession that the young ranger had saved him and he decided that he would chance confronting the ranger now. Strong enough was his faith in the twins, that Legolas decided to ask for an explanation.
Aragorn spoke softly afraid that the elf would run again and somehow knew that this was the one chance that the prince would give him… so he was determined that he would not mess it up. He started from the beginning daring to hold the pain filled, haunted blue eyes that stared back at him, “I went into the ranger’s camp looking for you. We knew that you and your escort had been attacked and we were looking for anyone who might have information. Scarab…” he saw Legolas flinch at the mention of his name, “the boss, he sent me to the cellar to see what I thought about his ‘secret weapon’. I’m sorry your highness, but I had to pretend that it didn’t bother me to see you like that…if I didn’t neither one of us would have stood a chance.”
Legolas continued to hold his gaze although it was hard as he relieved the tale he heard spoken.
Unconsciously the twins moved next to the prince, offering their support as they saw how difficult this was for him. Elladan placed a comforting hand on the prince’s shoulder and this time the younger elf did not shrink from the contact.
“I felt so much hate”, Legolas said softly as he remembered the young ranger standing in front of him, “so much anger.”
“Yes my prince”, Aragorn said softly, “but not to you. I wanted to kill Sca-“ Aragorn caught himself before he said the name, “to kill the men who had done that to you. And if I could have, I would have cut you loose…but I couldn’t. So instead I planned on doubling back during the orc attack and rescuing you then. But…well then things didn’t quite work out that way did they?”
This time he turned a small knowing smile on the prince who shivered as he repressed his own memories swallowing back the bile in his throat. Three sets of eyes turned to him worriedly and he shook his head, “I’m fine.”
For a few moments no one said anything and then Legolas spoke, “I thought you were a traitor.”
“What?” two elven voices and one human voice chorused simultaneously and Legolas tried to explain.
“When I saw you with him, I thought you were like them…” again he shuddered as he glanced down at the light bandage on his wrist. His memory of receiving the wound was distorted into images of people around him…suffocating him. Pushing it aside, he continued, “and then when I saw you in Lord Elrond’s house…well…I thought…umm…”
Suddenly in swiftness everything made sense…horrifying sense and Aragorn almost stumbled under the implication even as Elladan spoke, “So you though that Estel was in league with the rogue rangers. Oh Legolas….no. No. Estel is our brother. Raised in our house by our father… he is an elf…only not. If that makes sense.”
Legolas stared hard at the ranger as he heard Elladan’s words. This man was raised by Lord Elrond?
His disbelief must have shown because Aragorn chuckled slightly, “I know poor Lord Elrond…to be infected with a human.” He made it sound like he was a disease and even the young prince had to smile at that and shook his head.
“You sound like someone I once knew”, Legolas said whimsically as his thoughts drifted to his friend, Rauri, and the other elves that had ridden with him to Rivendell. The Halls of Mandos were overflowing with his loved ones and it caused his heart to ache. No longer would he hear Rauri and Raidruch tormenting with their incessant bickering… and Methos. He had barely survived their last journey into those woods… his father’s heart would sorrow of the passing of one such as him…
During his captivity, he had little time to reflect on their passing. He could not think on them or his despair would have overcome him…and he retained the hope that somehow the rangers had lied to him and that some of his friends still lived. Sighing heavily, he swayed slightly from exhaustion, physical and emotional as everything caught up to him.
“My dearest friends find comfort where I cannot”, the words were spoken in soft elven and their sincerity brought a knot to Aragorn’s throat as he got a small glimpse of how tormented this serene looking being truly was. He has lost so much… and as the young ranger had that very thought he still had no idea of just how deep that loss went.
“Here... sit”, Elrohir helped steer Legolas to a small stump and had him sit down, “You should be home in bed!” In truth both he and Elladan were shaken by Legolas’s admission – did the prince truly feel that he could only find peace in the Halls of Mandos? His very words made them think of their own mother, Celebrian, who had found her time on Middle Earth too wearisome to continue after the twins rescued her from orcs. The very thought of their friend seeking to tread from this life, brought grave concern to their hearts.
“You sound like your father”, Legolas muttered although to his own chagrin he had to agree. The events of the past two weeks were more then he could deal with right now. Reflected inward he did not notice the unbridled concern of the brothers…but he did notice something else.
Jumping up he whirled around. Danger…
The brothers barely had time to register the danger themselves when the first warg appeared.
* * *
“I really hate wargs”, Aragorn grumbled even as he watched Legolas automatically reach for his bow and then drop his arms back down. His broken fingers made archery impossible not that it mattered anyway because the prince was unarmed. In his own distress, he had not taken anything with him when he left the house!
The Elven prince cursed himself. He had never went into the woods unarmed…
“To the trees!” Elladan hollered as he and Elrohir were already notching arrows and had brought down two of the wargs. Even as they did, growls behind them warned of more wargs.
Aragorn almost made it to a tree when he was hit from the side by one of the large beasts knocking him off balance. His side hit the ground, hard, the breath momentarily knocked from him. The twins, leaping into the trees did not notice right away but Legolas did.
Without even thinking, he propelled his own body onto the back of the warg that turned to disembowel the ranger, yelling as he did, “ESTEL! GET UP!”
Groaning in pain, the ranger rolled out from under the warg’s intention, pulling up his sword just in time to propel it into the body of a 4th warg that had moved in. The warg was using the opening that the other one gave as it ran in circles trying to get the elf off its back.
Legolas held on for dear life as the warg twisted and gnashed under him. Already feeling weary before the attack, it was pure adrenaline and stubbornness that kept him going now.
The prince tried to find a safe way to get clear of the warg but as his own strength waned he began to wonder if a safe dismount was possible.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aragorn kill the 4th warg. At least he was safe and that brought some small measure of comfort to him. Elladan and Elrohir thought of the human as a brother…. and the ranger had saved his life…. The prince did not take these things lightly.
“ESTEL! LEGOLAS!” the twins shouted from their perch in the trees as they saw the deadly engagement that was taking place. As they took aim to fire on the remaining warg, their attention was diverted as an arrow lodged in the tree next to Elrohir’s face.
With a sinking feeling the elves realized that the wargs were not the only predators after them this day – the rogue rangers were also in the trees!
Nimbly jumping down to the ground, they stopped firing at the rangers long enough for Elladan to grab Aragorn’s arm and pull him to his feet as Elrohir fired at the warg that Legolas was grappling with. Then he grabbed the elf before the warg had even hit the dirt, pushing the dazed prince in front of him.
“ROGUES!” Elladan yelled as he and Elrohir returned fire once they saw the their brother and friend were moving on their own power.
* * *
Scarab watched the fray from the back of his black horse. His eyes quickly picked out the blond haired figure as he stumbled in front of the other elves.
“Well hello… my pet”, he said with a cruel smile as his gaze flickered, pleased, over the corpses of the wargs. 4 had been enough. He knew that the elves and young ranger would have no trouble with four and that allowed them the precious time to plan their trap.
Closing his eyes for a moment, the big man sucked in the smell of his prey. His pulse quickened in anticipation of the prince…. his blood had had an intoxicating effect on the man. An effect he was anxious to relive.
Digging his heels deep into the flank of his horse, Scarab headed into the foliage. It was time to reclaim his pet.
* * *
Aragorn reached out and grabbed Legolas’s arm when the prince stumbled.
“Thanks”, Legolas gasped as he fought to keep his legs moving. Around him he could hear the sounds of their pursuers and the thought of being caught by these men was the only thing that was keeping him on his feet.
Elladan saw the horse and rider a mere instant before they burst out of the brush in front of them. It was just long enough for him to notch an arrow and send it straight towards the large man in the saddle.
Scarab ducked barely managing to avoid being struck and for one brief moment his eyes caught and held those of the fleeing prince. Legolas faltered when he recognized Scarab but was grabbed by Aragorn and Elrohir even as a large bird flew down, spooking the horse and forcing the man to look away.
“GET ME MY ELF!” Scarab roared at his men, incensed that Legolas was getting away from him… again.
* * *
With a gasp, Aragorn felt a burning pain in his arm as one of the rogues’ arrows hit him and he let go of Legolas, automatically reaching towards the pain.
“Estel?” Worry laced Elladan’s tone as saw his brother stumble and knew he had been hit. This was not good… two injured… he was almost out of arrows as was Elrohir… and his heart sank as he saw the rangers surrounding them – they were trapped!
“I’m fine”, Aragorn ground out even as his shoulder burned but he knew that was the least of their worries.
Elladan passed one of his knives to Legolas as the four friends stopped running and formed a protective ring with their backs to each other, “We will not go down without a fight”, he whispered.
Legolas gripped the knife tightly and winced slightly as the wound on his wrist burned with the movement. He was sure that the stitches had burst but like Aragorn, knew that it was not the concern right now.
Scarab rode towards the four warriors and smiled. Their bravery was commendable…if not misplaced. There were just too many rangers for them to take in hand-to-hand combat – especially with injured.
The dark ranger’s smile grew wide as it came to rest on Legolas who could not keep himself from an involuntary shudder.
“Well now my pet…isn’t this interesting”, Scarab continued to hold the prince’s gaze even as his eyes burned in anticipation… he was so close to having what he wanted, “but this doesn’t have to end like this. It is all up to you… my pet.”
The sons of Elrond pressed closer to their friend offering him their support as they sensed his fear from this man’s gaze. Their presence lent the prince courage, “I am not your pet.”
Scarab chuckled, “Come now my prince… would you prefer I use some other term of endearment for you? Perhaps… mela-nim?”
Legolas froze, as around him the other three stiffened at his use of the gray tongue…my love… but Scarab continued, “It is really no matter what name I have for you… it does not change anything. However I am not a heartless man…”
This made his companions laugh, “I will give you a choice.”
Aragorn felt himself pale as he suspected what that choice might be.
“Come with us now, pet, and we will not slay your friends. Or… we can slay your friends first and then you can come with us. Either way, you are going with me.”
Legolas faltered – what kind of choice was this?
“I fear those terms are not acceptable to us”, a voice behind the rangers caused everyone to turn in shock as a tall blond elf astride a tall horse entered the clearing, along with a contingent of Rivendell elves.
It was Lord Glorfindel.
And then all hell broke lose.
* * *
The rogue rangers scrambled into retreat unwilling to fight so many elves even as some fell under elven arrows. Scarab, refusing to be denied that which he sought, forced his horse towards the four friends only to discover that they had used the few seconds reprieve that Glorfindel’s appearance gave them, to run for the trees.
“NO!” he screamed but was forced to flee when an arrow hit his leg and he realized that if he did not leave now, he would be caught…or killed.
This isn’t over yet…he vowed as he disappeared amid the chaos, his own anger spurred by the anger he knew he would meet once the prince made it safely back to Imladris.
* * *
Legolas saw Scarab turn to flee as he ran towards the safety of a large tree. The twins were already in the tree and had unceremoniously hauled Aragorn up behind him. The ranger protested every step of the way insisting that an arrow sticking out of his arm did not impede his ability to climb.
The prince couldn’t help but jest as he heard that remark, “Not any more then your being human does anyway!”
Aragorn threw him a nasty look but was unable to hold the glare as a smile tugged on his lips, betraying his true feelings and he grinned, very relived that they were all still alive enough to torment him.
Within moments, the clearing was empty except for the elves and the one human. Glorfindel rode under the tree where the four younger ones were, his steady gaze finding the vibrant blue eyes of the silvan elf, “Sweet Eru, young prince, Lord Elrond will not have to bind you to your bed if you do not desist from taking flight without proper leave…I will do that myself!”
Legolas laughed even as he heard Elladan’s jest, “Ai-Dulan…some things never change!”
The prince’s response was cut short by the sound of a very loud and indignant snort as someone familiar, and very much missed, strode into the clearing.
“Nim’loki!” the prince gently lowered himself to the ground just as the stallion caught sight of his elf and galloped towards him. Aragorn couldn’t help but smile as he saw Elf and horse greet each other.
The prince hugged the proud neck even as the stallion nickered and tossed his head as if giving a lecture.
Elrohir whispered, “Even his horse is threatening him with bondage!”
Legolas ignored the laughing as his heart was too relived to see the horse. He had thought this friend lost, along with the rest. Let them make fun of their reunion; Legolas had not the pride to care. He was just too relived.
Glorfindel let a small smile grace his elegant mouth before he said softly, “Between this horse and that bird”, his eyes gazed heavenly where they noticed for the first time that the hunting falcon was circling overhead. Aragorn remembered seeing the bird frighten Scarab’s horse, and only just now realized that they had not seen nor heard the bird since. The blond Lord continued, “we had no choice but find out what grief had befallen these fair woods. They can be very persistent.”
Legolas laughed and shook his head as he rubbed Nim’s nose affectionately, “I apologize my good Lord, my father had oft threatened that my friends did drive him to distraction. I fear I did not forewarn you of their ‘persistence’.”
In truth, the King of Mirkwood took some relief in the zealous protectiveness of his son’s horse.
Although all Elves had a special relationship with animals, the Prince of Mirkwood seemed to bring out in them a fierce protectiveness that went beyond the usual relationship. And had even saved his life on a number of occasions…this being one.
“Well I for one am thankful for their ‘persuasion’,” Aragorn said wryly as he carefully climbed out of the tree and leaned back against it; the throbbing in his arm became overwhelming.
“Estel”, Elladan said gently as he gained his human brother’s side, “we must remove that arrow before we can return. It might be poisoned.” At the mention of poison, Legolas paled and the horse butted him anxiously.
“These foul men use a deadly kind the likes of which I have never seen before”, the prince said as he moved closer to the twins to watch as they carefully inspected the entry site. Thankfully there was also an exit wound so they would just have to cut the tip off before gingerly sliding the shaft from his arm.
That was much better then having to dig or cut the arrow tip out, “it killed my friends before they could even draw their bows… my treat was something much less potent…” his voice dropped off to a bare whisper as he thought about his subsequent capture and abuse, “however I fear it might have been the worst of the two.”
Lord Glorfindel gracefully dismounted and stood beside Legolas. He would have normally taken over the care of the injured but had great faith in the abilities of the sons of Elrond as they had been taught by the most powerful of Elven healers – the dark haired lord himself.
“Well then we can take some comfort from that”, Glorfindel said as he helped Elrohir steady the ranger before Elladan removed the arrow.
“How?” Aragorn ground out between clenched teeth. Knowing what his brothers were going to do did nothing to help the situation.
“You are not already dead!’ Aragorn’s eyes opened wide at Lord Glorfindel’s jest and then he let out a round of curses that made the others blush as the shaft was pulled from the wound.
“There now”, patronized Elrohir with a grin, “that wasn’t so bad… was it?”
Legolas took the arrow tip and held it beneath his nose. Closings his eyes, he trained all of his senses on it and searched for any indication of poison. After a moment he shook his head, “I don’t smell anything…well except him.”
Aragorn would have retorted but he was in too much pain as his brothers worked to staunch the bleeding and bind the arm so it wouldn’t be jarred on the trip home.
“Oh course, I could be wrong,” the prince turned to the horse that was still pressing its nose into his side and with as much grace as his aching body would allow, he grasped the thick mane and pulled himself atop the bare back of the animal, “either way I think we have dallied enough in this glade. My body aches wearily for Imladris.”
“Would you like a ride, ranger?” the prince asked to Aragorn’s surprise. He took this as a good sign and so swallowed his pride and nodded, “Yes fair prince, I think I would.”
The twins cast an amused look at each other. Aragorn had sought them out to help him bridge the gap of fear that the young prince felt towards him. But it would appear, that he did not need their help – the future king of man had done that himself.
“I think I feel the start of a beautiful friendship”, Elrohir mocked as he and his brother trotted along side Glorfindel’s horse. While it was a fair walk back to Imladris, the young elves did not mind it all at.
* * *
Lord Elrond finally gave a hearty sigh of relief. Both Aragorn and Legolas’s injuries had been seen to and they were now resting peacefully. He was a bit concerned about the young prince’s fingers but they would not know whether or not his prowess with a bow had been affected for a couple more days, so all they could do was wait and hope Illuvatar shone on the young one.
Bright eyes watched him and returned his thoughts to his task. The Lord needed to get the messenger back to Mirkwood before the King’s impatience got the best of them all.
“May the valar guide you in speed to your master as I suspect he is not pleased at my delay in responding, “ Elrond actually smiled at the thought of Thranduil. “ Not pleased” would be putting it lightly, however if it were him waiting for word on one of his sons, then Elrond knew he would probably not be any better.
The bird gave him one final little shriek and then leapt into darkened skies over Rivendell.
Elrond watched the bird for a few moments and then returned to the house. He wanted to check in on the patients, and in all honestly verify that the prince was still in his room, before retiring for the evening. With the worry about his missing guest, Elrond had not had much sleep of late.
* * *
The horse and rider stood quietly in the clearing not far from Imladris. Lord Lucian’s keen elf eyes were trained on the skies above him as his ears strained to hear any sound of his quarry.
He knew that Elrond intended to send the Mirkwood falcon back to Thranduil this very night with a message assuring him that while Legolas’s escort had incurred grave difficulties, the prince was now at Rivendell and under his care.
But that was a message that Lucian never wanted to reach Mirkwood. He was already displeased that the Prince had made it to the Last Homely Home, twice now…he would not be thwarted a third time.
No, this time he was going to take matters into his own hands.
If you need a job done right, then do it yourself… the dark elf lord thought as he saw the bird in sky above him and took careful aim with his bow. He could afford no mistakes. The bird needed to be killed.
The arrow left the bow a fraction of a second later and with a satisfied sigh, Lucian watched the messenger of Thranduil drop soundlessly from the sky. He did not need to find the falcon to verify the kill… he knew he had been lethal.
Now all he had to do was take care of one more small detail and then wait.
Thranduil would march on Rivendell… Lucian would make sure of that.
Chapter 3 -
The next couple of days passed uneventfully to the great relief of Lord Elrond. He had sent scouting patrols to try and find the lair of the rouge rangers but so far they had evaded their search. He was concerned by the attack on his sons and the prince, particularly as it would appear that the rangers had used wargs as a distraction.
Wargs normally hunted at night so Elrond was sure that there was something else driving behind the attack. He just couldn’t figure out what it was yet.
He was also disturbed that the leader, Scarab, was very interested in reacquiring the young prince. Thinking about the prince made the Lord of Imladris smile. Almost fully recovered, the silvan elf and his human son had become fast friends and had finally evened things out in the never-ending battle between the brothers.
The twins would normally torment their human brother to no end and although he was very good at retribution, the odds had definitely improved now that Legolas had taken up Aragorn’s side. The young prince had been very sympathetic to the human’s plight with the brothers as he himself had been on the receiving end of their teasing for centuries! He was glad to have a comrade in arms against the dynamic duo – and the Lord of Imladris knew that the relationship was doing wonders in helping Legolas get over the grief of his capture and of losing his close friends.
Aragorn’s arm was much slower in healing as Elves had an accelerated healing ability but that did not stop him or slow him down much. Although to the credit of the young elves, they made sure that they ‘played’ extra nice with the damaged human.
Now if only they could rid their woods of these dark rangers, Elrond could probably get a decent night sleep. But as it was now, he couldn’t. His dreams were filled with images like shards of glass reflecting pain and horribly distorted images but as of yet, he was unable to see what they were trying to show him.
All he knew for sure was that it was related to what was happening in his woods.
* * *
King Thranduil was not impressed. It had been too long. Elrond should have responded by now.
Not known for his great patience, the Mirkwood King had already shown remarkable restraint so far but right now he was warring with himself over whether or not he should send another messenger… or go personally!
“My Lord”, Thranduil turned to look at Réal, the acting chief of security in Methos’ absence, and knew immediately he would not like what he was going to say. Hesitating only slightly, Réal continued, “My father’s horse has returned… without a rider.”
The King stared in disbelief at the other elf wondering if this was some sort of joke but as he saw the controlled anguish on his face, Thranduil realized that the only joke was that he had actually thought his son would be safe in Rivendell.
“Réal, son of Methos”, Thranduil’s voice was gentle even as his gaze burned intensely, “Prepare my escort. We are going to Rivendell.”
* * *
The sun raised its blurry face in the morning to a dark sight. Lucian stood unnoticed watching a big man through the branches of a small quiet tree. The forest of Rivendell muted in the presence of such evil as the spell around the elf silenced its warnings and it was this dark magic that held the tongues that normally warned their beloved elves when danger threatened them.
The ranger had yet to detect his presence and this oversight along with his agitated movements and perceptible irritability were enough to confirm the elf’s suspicion that Scarab was definitely going through withdrawal. It was an interesting side affect that Lucian himself had discovered by accident.
Although he knew the drug-like affect elven blood could have on a man, no one realized that it was powerfully addictive and even one taste was enough to hook a man.
And this man was definitely hooked.
A small smile crept over the dark elf’s features – this of course was beneficial to him. He could provide their ‘drug’ and in return they would do his bidding. However, he also knew that it was a dangerous habit and if not strictly controlled, it could become unmanageable and even dangerous for himself. After all no matter what, he was still an elf.
It had been days since the thwarted abduction and Scarab was not doing very well. Lucian knew that if the ranger did not get his fix soon, he would lose control of this man. And no matter how much he despised the race of men, this one had a purpose for him… him and the other addicted rangers he lead.
So he had a plan.
“Scarab”, speaking softly Lucian stepped out of his cover and the man instinctively drew his sword, unaware that the elf had been there.
“It’s you”, Scarab said sheathing the sword once again and running a hand across his sweaty face. His eyes were bright in his pale face and his breathing a bit fast from the fright of being caught unaware.
Lucian ignored his greeting, “There can be no more mistakes. The Mirkwood King will be here any day. I have made sure of that.”
“And you know he will attack Rivendell? He is an elf after all,” the ranger was not so confident of this as the elf was and Lucian spared him a small smile.
“Oh I am sure…and you will make it certain - this time”, his voice took a sinister warning note, “There can be no more screw ups. Twice I have given you the prince and twice you have failed…”
Scarab broke in defending himself, “I did as you instructed. He is damaged.”
“Yes but not dead”, Lucian rounded on the man his eyes blazing in anger, “and damage’” he spat the word out, “can be healed…. with enough time. He is an elf you idiot. We are resilient. His light needs to be cast into such shadow that it flees from his very body. That you did not do. Thranduil will not attack the Noldo if his son has life. The prince needs to be beyond dead. His passing must be a monstrosity of whose horror will seal the fate of Imladris. If you cannot do this, then I will find someone who can!”
“No”, Scarab backpedaled terrified of losing that which he sought so desperately, “I can finish what I start. I will not fail again.”
“No you will not”, Lucian confirmed, “if you do then you can report your failure directly to the dark Lord himself and in Mordor, Sauron can deal your repentance. Our Master wants Mirkwood – and what he wants he gets. And this…” his hands swept around him, “has been set in motion years before your grandfathers were even born.”
The elf’s dark eyes burned into the ranger as he continued, “I myself will deliver the firstborn into your hands…and Thranduil, in his grief, will march on Rivendell. In the end, we will have them all. Mirkwood…Rivendell…and then Lorien itself. The time of elves is past.”
This was the first time that he had been privy to what it was they were working towards. When Lucian had recruited him and his men, he had no way of knowing where it would lead. But then Lucian had given them their first elf…and their instruction in the rites of Agarval or “blood power” and there had been no turning back.
“I will do my part. I will finish it, “ his eyes burned in anticipation of the conclusion to this even as he wondered if he could actually do away with that which he desired so badly.
Lucian laughed and it was a chilling sound, “No ranger…your part begins it.”
* * *
“Prince Legolas”, a voice caught the young elf as he was on his way back to the house from the archery range. Turning, he saw a tall dark haired elf that he did not instantly recognize.
The elf was a Noldor elf and dressed in the fine robes of a lord so he bowed respectfully, “My Lord.” Subconsciously he reached to rub his shoulder as a sharp poker of pain laced through the old scar.
“I have not had the opportunity to give you my greetings as of yet, “ Lucian said pleasantly as he came to stand beside the blond archer. He had purposely kept himself from the prince until he was sure the younger elf did not suspect his connection with Scarab. Lucian could never trust the ranger to not have said something that would inadvertently alert the prince to a traitor in Elrond’s house. He then paused and smiled; “You probably do not remember me since you were but an elfling when last I saw you.”
“Lord Lucian, “ Legolas remembered who he was now, “ I am sorry for a moment I did not.”, the prince apologized even as he shifted his shoulder. The pain was becoming quite uncomfortable and there was something about this elf that made him feel ill at ease as he unconsciously stepped back a pace from the other, “If you would excuse me…”
“Is something wrong?” Lucian stepped in front of him cutting him off and for a brief moment Legolas felt a surge of panic but then scolded himself. He was within shouting distance of the house and this elf was a Lord…a friend. But even as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he still felt a rising anxiety.
“Legolas!” Another voice called out from behind them and Legolas felt relief wash over him as Aragorn came striding out of the trees behind him. The young ranger had come back to the house to see if his new friend wanted to go swimming with him and his brothers and had looked for him at the archery range first. The hunt had been successful although they had been disappointed not to find any trace of the rogues of whom they were always on the lookout for now.
His pace quickened when he saw Lucian standing in front of the elf. There was just something about that elf that set alarm bells off in the rangers head and he did not like the idea of the prince being alone with him, “Oh there you are. Lord Lucian”, he respectfully acknowledged the Lord before turning back to his friend, “There’s an old quarry a little ways from here that me and my brothers like to swim in…and it is a nice day”. He did not even need to ask the question.
Forgetting his unease, the prince laughed, “And miss seeing one of you drown the other? Of course not. I would love to go with you. If you will excuse us, my Lord”. Legolas promptly dismissed himself from Lucian and he and Aragorn quickly left the courtyard.
* * *
Vexed, Lucian slowly walked back towards the house. He had hoped to strike up some rapport with the younger elf and then lure him away from Imladris as he had done with the other elves he had given to the rangers. But, he realized, this was not going to be so easy this time.
Legolas was wary of him, that much he had seen. It had not escaped his notice that the elf had stepped away from him and even the momentary glimpse of panic had been seen. The prince sensed something that much Lucian was sure of but what it was, he had no idea.
The Lord thought briefly about the prince for a few more moments before going into the house. He suspected that the odd scar that the prince bore from the attack so many years ago was reacting to him. He had seen the way it bothered Legolas when he got close.
Interesting, he mused stepping into the house, his body knows…even if his mind does not. The same aura that silences the trees must be triggering the response in the old wound. Interesting indeed.
Brushing it aside, he hurried to the apothecary. He had things to do.
* * *
“Thank you”, the prince said quietly after they left Lucian.
“For what?” Aragorn asked. They had been walking for a few moments now and had fallen into an easy silence. That was one of the most unique aspects of their growing friendship. Although they had only known each other for days, they had fallen into a comfortableness that was more reminiscent of a life long friendship. They just felt so at ease with each other, even in silence.
Legolas smiled sheepishly, “Lord Lucian.” He tried to explain himself but Aragorn held up his hand, “No need to apologize. He gives me the willies too.”
The prince stopped with a confused look on his face. They had been speaking in Westron and Legolas thought he had a very good handle on the language…until now. He repeated slowly making sure he had not misheard, “the willies?”
Aragorn actually laughed at the quizzical look on the elf’s face, “Yes, you know the creeps, uneasy, weird…”
Legolas laughed as he repeated it again, “the willies…. that is a very fun phrase, ranger!”
Just then they rounded into a clearing and Legolas was treated to a view of the swimming quarry and he grinned and waved at the two figures who had just climbed to the top of the rocks again and were preparing to jump back in, “Elladan! Elrohir!”
“Last one in smells like an orc!” Elladan yelled as he was already formed into a graceful dive and hit the water with barely a splash. Such is the way of elves.
Elrohir was right behind him.
The two younger beings grinned at each other as they quickly stripped down to their undergarments and raced for the ledge.
Although it was very close, Aragorn ended up smelling like an orc.
* * *
“Legolas!” Lord Glorfindel called out to the young elf as he saw him come back to the surface after a graceful dive into the deep clear water. The twins and Aragorn had long come out of the water but the elf prince lingered longer as he wished the crystal depths could cleanse away the lingering despair that sometimes crept over him without his leave.
Aragorn looked up in surprise from the rock he had been lazing on when the blond Lord appeared by his side and called out to the prince. He wasn’t overly surprised that the Lord’s arrival had gone unnoticed as they were not exactly being very quiet or cautious this close to home. But he was a little surprised that Glorfindel had wanted to expressly talk to Legolas.
Glorfindel and Elrond had been friends and warriors together for a long time and he now acted as one of the Lord of Rivendell’s chief advisors – him and Lucian. However unlike the dark Lord, Aragorn trusted Glorfindel with his life.
Legolas quickly swam to the rocky shelf and hauled himself out of the water. Then an easy climb later, he nimbly jumped up to next to Elladan who was now standing with his brothers in respect of the Lord.
Glorfindel did a quick appraisal of the wood-elf and was satisfied that his external wounds had indeed healed nicely. Although his gaze paused briefly at the white scar that marred the otherwise blemish free, perfect body. Legolas saw the look and self-consciously grabbed his tunic and slid it over his head. He was very aware of the oddity of the scar.
“Yes my Lord?” Legolas said softly as he bowed slightly. Aragorn smiled wryly as he noticed that his friend was not even out of breath although he himself would have been if he had just done the same. It was one of the things that he had had to get used to being raised a human among elves. And of course, his brothers never tired of pointing it out to him. However, he loved his brothers and took their teasing in the same nature as it was intended. They loved their little brother…even if he was not elven.
The race of Men and the race of elves were not the same. That did not mean that one was superior to the other…they were just different.
Elrond had spent a long time trying to make the young man understand that. It would have been too easy to raise him thinking that he was some how inferior because he did not have elven stamina, strength or mortality - but that was not the case.
Aragorn was raised to be proud of who he was – shortcomings…strengths…the whole package.
However, that did not mean that he was above appreciating that which he did not have. After all he was only human…
“If your friends will excuse you, I would appreciate a little time with you, young friend,” Glorfindel asked graciously although it did not go unnoticed that the prince tensed slightly before answering, “As you wish.”
“I wonder what Glori wants with Legolas?” Aragorn couldn’t help but ask as he and the twins watched the two elves slip away into the trees. Curiosity was another trait that he had much of…whether or not it was a strength or weakness was still in debate.
Elrohir chuckled, “Well why don’t you just trail after them. I am sure they wouldn’t mind you eavesdropping…” his voice trailed off as Elladan couldn’t help but finish the smart remark, “but then again with the sound you make while tramping through the brush, they might just shoot you by mistake thinking you to be an orc...”
The words were barely out of his mouth when Aragorn gave him a playful shove and sent the older twin off the edge of the quarry and back into the water. Elrohir doubled over laughing as Elladan broke the water with some very colorful language as Aragorn pelted back down the path to Imladris.
The young ranger knew he only had a few minutes head start on Elladan and that once the twin got out of the water, there would be hell to pay. But it was worth it for the look on his older brothers face just before he hit the water.
* * *
“Legolas”, Glorfindel’s voice was gentle as he turned to talk to the elf beside him. They had traveled a little ways before Legolas found a tall oak tree and nimbly climbed to its very top, the other elf right behind him. The prince always found a safety in height and the Lord, knowing his perchance for being off the ground, was not surprised that their discussion was going to take place in such an location, “I need to talk to you about what happened when you were abducted.” He saw a brief flicker of pain on the youngsters face before Legolas stowed it away and turned away from the older elf.
Legolas did not want to talk about it…so he said nothing.
Glorfindel waited but the prince did not answer, “Legolas…we need to know what happened.”
The prince still said nothing.
To the outside world the young archer might have appeared indifferent to the request but it was not so. Inside he was in turmoil. His memories of the time were a jumbled mess skewed by his own mind’s desperate attempt to protect itself.
His heart had just been through too much in too little time. The loss of his dear friends and his own abuse at the hands of Scarab…it was all too much for him to deal with. So with the final assault, he had withdrawn in such a way that now his own recollections of what happened were blurred, at best.
Glorfindel pressed gently, “I know this is painful but it is important Legolas. We need to know if the rite of Agarval was performed.” He said the words but was not sure if it would mean anything to the youngster.
Legolas turned to the other elf, not understanding. Agarval…blood power? He had never heard of this.
“It is an ancient ritual…one that should have been forgotten”, Glorfindel confessed knowing that he had the prince’s interest, “If a man takes of the blood of a living elf, he will experience a temporary euphoria in which he has strengths, agility, endurance that no man should have. However…” his voice lowered gravely, “the elf has to be ‘prepared’ to ensure that his blood is at its most potent level…. Legolas we need to know if you were ‘prepared’…if you were, there are dire implications for the elven world.”
…Prepare him…his blood will lead us to victory tonight…let’s play…scream pet scream…my pet…And every time they mend, I will break them again…Prepare him…my pet…scream…
The prince swallowed painfully against his dry throat trying to fight back the feelings of nausea that threatened him. Images swirled across his mind but he refused to focus on any of them…it was too painful.
Glorfindel saw the wood-elf’s distress and his heart went out for him. Although Legolas had not yet confirmed or denied that this is what had happened to him, the other elf was sure that it had. He could feel the pain and torment radiating from this one as surely as if he himself were feeling it.
“Legolas,” his eyes sought out the younger ones as he spoke, “the elf must be desecrated.”
“NO!” the word was ripped from the bottom of his soul and Glorfindel was stunned at the amount of anguish that one word contained as Legolas vehemently shook his head.
No it didn’t happen…not to me…it didn’t happen… the prince’s mind screamed at him even as he knew he was lying. He felt like he was shattering into a million tiny pieces and it was all beyond his control. He felt like he was suffocating and he would have bolted from the tree if not for Glorfindel’s strong grip on his forearm.
The Noldor elf was surprised as he watched the stoic façade of his young friend shatter right in front of his eyes even as he knew Legolas would try and run. Although the prince was no coward and did not normally run from anything, the past couple of weeks were anything but normal.
“Legolas”, he said softy hating to push like this when it was so obviously upsetting for his friend but he had no choice. The ramifications, if it went beyond men who had stumbled onto the secret ability of elven blood, dictated that the answer was worth more then the prince’s distress.
And if he had been ‘prepared’, that in itself also needed to be dealt with…pretending it did not happen would forever be a shadow over the youngster that could eventually break his own immortality.
No Glorfindel had no choice… they needed to know. They may have already waited too long, “Were you prepared?”
Legolas attempted to pull his arm from the other’s grasp but Glorfindel held tight – he did not want the youngster running.
“Were you prepared?”
The prince did not answer even as the Lord pressed again. And just when Glorfindel thought that the stubborn youth would not say anything, he heard a soft whisper and it broke his heart, “I do not know.”
* * *
“He does not know?” Elrond repeated in disbelief. Glorfindel had just gotten back to the house with the young elf he was supposed to talk to. Legolas had went right to his room without even acknowledging Aragorn when the human called after him while the Lord had sought out his friend.
Glorfindel nodded his head as he ran his hand across his serene face wearily. Talking to Legolas about this had been no simple task. The emotional drain had been costly, “He does not know…and I believe him. He is very confused, hurt and in obvious denial. I suspect that not only has he been prepared but the preparation was even more cruel then is required.”
Elrond sucked in a breath at his friend’s hypothesis although he suspected as much. Letting the breath out slowly his gaze locked onto the other elf’s as he spoke quietly, “Then I will need to read him.”
“Reading” would enable the healer to see deeply into the soul of another and allow them a privileged glimpse into the inner psyche. He normally did a superficial ‘read’ of all his patients to determine the extent of their injuries, which was one thing. A ‘deep read’, which is what he would need to do with Legolas, was a more personal invasion and could only be undertaken with the permission of the intended subject - even unconscious, an elf could prohibit a “deep read” if they did not want it done.
The potential cost to the ‘reader’ was great. It exposed them to the same pain that the subject had experienced as they tread the open wound as a spectator. The need to do a deep read was not something that was taken lightly or done without exhausting all other methods first. However, Elrond felt he had no choice – they did not have the time for the prince to work through this himself.
Lives were at stake – if someone had let the secret out of Rivendell then they had a traitor in their midst…and that was even more a threat to the elves then the rangers were…
“If he will let you”, Glorfindel reminded thinking about the stubborn wood-elf. He too knew the vulnerable position that a deep read placed an elf in. It would open everything to Elrond…and the blond elf was not sure that the youngster would allow that. Wood-elves as a general rule were more reclusive and tended to keep to themselves more then any of the other elves. Particularly in the last 1000 years.
Elrond sighed, he knew what his friend was thinking and hoped that there was enough of Selestriel in the youngster to open this mind to this. Thranduil would never submit…
* * *
“Legolas?” Aragorn followed his friend repeating his name. He had called out to the elf when he had seen him come in but the prince had not even so much as looked in his direction. Worried, the ranger followed and called after him again. This time the prince stopped but he did not look at his friend and Aragorn asked this time more softly, “Are you okay?”
The prince snorted, his emotions still wrung out from his talk to Glorfindel and the painful onslaught of half memories that threatened him to madness “Is there anyone in this house who will let me be?!” His tone was sharper then he intended and that in itself reflected how distraught he was. He just wanted to be left alone to try and sort everything out.
Aragorn started, shocked by the words and tone of his friend even as he answered, “We were just worried about you…sorry if that is such a bad thing.” Feeling deeply hurt, he turned to leave and Legolas sighed angrily with himself. It was not Aragorn that he was angry with and he had no right to treat him thus, “Estel…”
“No don’t even bother”, Aragorn retorted surprised by how stung he actually was by the prince’s remark, “I don’t want to hear it.” Stalking away, he didn’t even glance back. If he had…he would have seen the prince’s face…and he would have come back.
Legolas started to go after the ranger but stopped himself. He was sorry for what he said but right now he was in condition to go and sort it out. He would talk to Aragorn later and make him understand.
Sighing the prince could not help but wonder what had possessed his mother to keep them in Rivendell for almost four years – when he found every minute so stifling. Turning back towards the stairs, the elf prince made his way to the guest quarters – he really needed to lie down. He was exhausted.
* * *
Elrond stood outside the prince’s door with his hand poised to knock. They had waited long enough – now they needed to know.
But before he could knock, he heard the soft voice call out from within, “Come in.”
Not really surprised, he slowly opened the door and stepped in. Legolas’s room was bathed in gentle light but it was not a problem for either elf as elves had keen eyesight, even in the dark.
“May I speak with you, young prince?” Elrond asked as saw the blond haired elf lying on the bed. Legolas had one arm draped over his face that hide his features but the older elf did not need to see his face to feel the anguish he was in - it radiated from his body.
Legolas spoke quietly, “I know what you are going to ask and I will tell you the same as I told Lord Glorfindel…I do not know.”
“Hmm”, Elrond murmured as he came closer to the bed and gently sat down on the side of it. Legolas still did not look at him, “Then tell me what you do remember. What happened in the woods Legolas?”
He had decided that maybe if they started at the beginning, he could help the elf without having to read him. It was grasping at straws but he was more hesitant about asking this elf then he could care to admit. If he did a deep read of the young silvan elf, it would expose Elrond to memories he really did not wish to relieve either – the death of the Queen among them.
Legolas took a deep breath – he could talk about that…maybe. So he started softly, “They knew who we were…and they were waiting for us…my friends never even got a shot off so quickly was our fall. It shames me to not have foreseen something…anything…”
He paused and Elrond felt his compassion go out to the elf. The fact that they were probably very dear and good friends with the prince, reminded him of the other unseen hurts and spoke of his open heart…even in light of the darkness overshadowing it.
Elrond spoke gently, “Young one, if your warriors were not able to get a shot off, it is testimony to the stealth in which you were overcome. That was something you could not have foreseen and have no share of guilt of. Your own fate would have lay with them if something worst had not been intended.” Legolas removed his arm and looked at the elf Lord who implored him to take to heart his words, “Mourn for your friends but bury them with pride. Their undoing were not their own. Rangers have long had the ability to trap where others could not have. These were no mere men.”
The prince shut his eyes briefly as if considering the validity of the words before giving a slight nod, opening his eyes and speaking again, “I would have gladly lay down with them but the one called, Scarab” and he spat the name out even as repressed an involuntary shudder, “knew who I was and called me as the Prince of Mirkwood. I never saw the trap that fell even as I reached for my bow…my steps halted only fleetingly as I recognized that I was known. When I awoke, I was in shackles.”
Legolas stopped speaking and wiped a hand across his eyes. The wounds were still so raw they wrung tears from the deepest part of his soul. He continued quietly, “I do fear they found me expensive quarry though and after I almost escaped and killed four of his men, Scarab decided he needed to reduce my advantage of them greatly”, his eyes wavered towards his freshly healed hand briefly as he spoke, “and broke my bow fingers. Unfortunately he was successful and I found further attempts to extricate myself from them, much more difficult.”
“And they beat you”, Elrond added softly remembering the wounds on the young body when Aragorn had brought him home. Legolas glanced at the older elf and nodded slightly, “Yes they did my Lord. But I suspect that was mostly to keep my mind busy with something other then escape for they never intended to hurt me beyond my own ability to heal. However, my meetings with Scarab became quite painful as he demanded that which I could not give.”
The elf Lord had on occasion felt the brunt of mistreatment and knew what the men who wielded the cruelty sought – something that he too could not give them and he spoke without even thinking, “To call him ‘master.’ “
Legolas nodded as he said bitterly, “I call none ‘master’… not even my own father, although I am his faithful servant…he would never bide me or any to do that. So instead I paid for this transgression and he took much delight in it. In fact I think that he would have been disappointed if I had broken. It is not to torment when the torment is accepted.”
Elrond agreed silently. The prince spoke the truth of too many…elves and men alike.
“When I saw your son”, his eyes opened and he smiled slightly, “I thought him to be another like Scarab and mistook his anger at the situation for anger for me. I resisted his attempt to offer comfort. I am sorry that Estel, I did not recognize as a friend. My thinking was clouded as was my mind.”
“Peace Legolas”, the Lord said softly even as he smiled at the thoughts of his youngest son, “you had no reason to know Estel and cannot accept blame for not recognizing him. However, I am disturbed to hear that you were known by these men. While not hostile, your father’s courts have never been an attractive haven for rangers so I fear that it is not from Mirkwood the knowledge has come.”
Legolas shivered as he suddenly heard Scarab’s voice again as if in his ear and his voice echoed it hollowly, “You are the prince my pet…you have been shown to me. Given to me if you will…”
“What?” Elrond asked sharply although he heard the words. It was as if a poker had been driven through is heart.
The prince stammered unsure of why the Lord had reacted so and tried to remember what he had said but couldn’t. The best he could do was paraphrase, “Scarab said to me that I had been shown to him…that’s how he knew who I was although I denied it and told him I was a warrior.”
The Lord of Imladris was stunned and he sat back…given to me if you will. Legolas might not have remembered the exact words but Elrond did. A dark suspicion was forming in his mind and he did not like its implication at all. It suddenly became even more important that he know if Agarval had been initiated.
“Legolas I know this is painful but I really do need to know what happened before the rangers cut you, “ his eyes bored deeply into the wide blue ones looking back at him. He could see the depth of pain and trauma in them and knew that a trip into his soul would not be an easy thing, for him or the younger elf, “Can I read you?”
His request was soft and pleading but the prince recoiled as it he had been struck. No, his mind screamed as his face reflected the horror. Legolas had never had a deep read before but he knew what Elrond was asking of him and he was not so sure he could give it so freely.
The prince of Mirkwood could do almost anything else…but he did not know if he was ready to bare his soul to anyone. Let alone Elrond for he was in fear of what the powerful Lord would think of him if he saw beyond what he was able to project.
Legolas was ashamed of his weakness in the hands of Scarab and of his thoughts since then. Even of his most recent behavior to Aragorn and his thoughts about Imladris…he could not hurt Elrond by showing him that. He did not want anyone to know how pathetic he really was.
Elrond must have seen those fears because he gently laid a hand on the trembling form in front of him, “Legolas…I must know if there is a traitor here. If you cannot tell me what I need to know…then I know not what else to do. But young one…you have nothing to fear. Your spirit is a bright and strong light. I have no fear of what I might find…and neither should you.”
The prince was still hesitant but taking a deep breath he steeled himself and said evenly, “Then do what you must. I would have no other go through what I have…or what I might have. I wish I could tell you but I cannot. So I give myself to you.” His last part was spoken in such resignation and weariness that it hurt Elrond as he felt the inner turmoil of the young elf. He just hoped that somehow his trip into this private place might somehow be able to help the prince in some way…even if it were in a small way.
* * *
Lucian paused in shock – he had seen Elrond enter Legolas’s room and he had stopped outside and listened. He needed to know what was going on. He did not like what he heard. The ranger had indeed screwed up.
It would only be a short time before Elrond figured out that an elf was involved and then he was sure it would not take too long before the suspicion fell on himself. He couldn’t let that happen. No, Elrond could not read the prince…not now when they had come so close to fulfilling their plan.
Turning away from the door, Lucian’s mind quickly formulated a plan. He had planned on getting rid of Legolas after everyone had gone to bed…not anymore. It was time to get rid of the prince…now.
* * *
“I am sorry”, Legolas said a few minutes later as Elrond headed for the door. He had to get a sleeping drink prepared. It was easier to do a deep reading when the subject was in a deep sleep – a drug induced sleep.
“Sorry for what?” Elrond asked turning back to the bed where the elf was now sitting up.
“For Arwen’s ceremony. I really wanted to be here,” Legolas felt guilty over her canceling it, just as Aragorn had suspected he would.
Elrond smiled as he thought about his beautiful daughter, “Legolas. Do not take blame upon yourself that is not yours. You did not ask for this delay. Arwen thinks on you like a baby brother. Neither she, nor any of us, could think of celebrating while you were missing. However, it is not really a cancellation, merely a delay. Now just give me a few moments, I will be back with a drink for you.”
Giving the prince one last reassuring smile, Elrond left the room.
Legolas settled back and waited. He was glad that Arwen’s celebration was not truly cancelled. After all you only turn 1000 once.
* * *
“Estel?” It was Lord Glorfindel who found the ranger pacing angrily in the darkened garden “Is something the matter?” Of course he knew there had to be the way the young man was muttering under his breath and the words that the elf caught were not very flattering.
Aragorn turned abruptly and started to say something but checked himself when he realized that the blond elf he had seen in his peripheral vision was not Legolas but Lord Glorfindel, “You…oh Lord Glorfindel I am sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Aragorn gave a quick bow and the Lord quirked his eyebrow, “And who did you think I was?” Although it was quite obvious - there were not that many blond elves in Rivendell and only one other staying in the Last Homely Home at this moment.
“The prince!” Aragorn spat out angrily. He was even more upset with Legolas the more he thought about it. Of all the ungrateful…
“Ah”, Glorfindel said knowingly trying hard to keep the amusement from his face and voice. He wondered why Aragorn was so obviously upset with the silvan elf. Even if it were amusing to watch, “Something vexes you about our guest?”
“Something vexes me?” Aragorn couldn’t help but repeat indignantly before he prattled on, “Oh yeah, something vexes me greatly! I ask him if he is all right and he jumps down my throat! Are all wood-elves as….as…as he is!” The young man couldn’t even find the proper word to describe how his friend was.
Lord Glorfindel could not help but laugh this time as his eyes clouded over fondly as he thought about Legolas. It was really quite funny to see the ranger so upset that he was sputtering more then anything, “Actually no. Legolas is quite a unique wood-elf.”
And then because he could not stop himself, “His kin would have just slain you instead of ‘jumping down your throat’”
Aragorn stopped pacing and stared stonily at the Lord, not sure whether to believe him or not and Glorfindel held up his hand, “Peace Estel. I was only jesting. Although I have to admit that the prince is not like most other wood-elves, his father included. However, I fear I am the reason for his hostility to your innocent inquiry earlier.”
The young ranger waited for an explanation and was not too sure if he was pleased with the little one the Lord did offer, “Our earlier discussion ended on a more sensitive note then even I had anticipated and I fear that he left it a bit more off kilter then he would have liked to admit. But peace, do not be so angry with the young prince, you just caught him when his wounds were refreshed.”
“Riddles…you elves and your riddles”, Aragorn sighed rubbing a hand across his face. His anger was now deflated and it was replaced with something akin to guilt. He told himself that he should have realized that something must have happened during the talk to Glorfindel that made the prince act so uncharacteristically. And then he had not even given Legolas the chance to explain…he had walked away from him.
Oh brother, Aragorn chastised himself, I think I had better go and talk to him.
* * *
“Come in”, Legolas called out when he heard a soft knock on his door. He was expecting Lord Elrond to be back with whatever drugged potion he was making to help make him more pliable for the deep read.
However, as the door opened and a dark haired elf stepped quietly into the room, he was sure this was a joke. It was Lord Lucian.
Warily he watched as the lord closed the door and smiled. His eyes narrowed slightly as the prince gasped in pain and reached his hand over the healed scar. It had pained him sharply when the Lord came in the room, “Peace young prince…are you okay.”
Legolas just nodded not trusting his voice as sharp pokers of pain still laced his shoulder – he couldn’t understand why it should bother him so much when it had not given him any concern for almost a thousand years now.
Lucian held out a small mug of steaming tea, “Lord Elrond has asked that I deliver you this tea. He has been slightly delayed.”
Legolas was torn. As much as he did not trust this elf for some unknown reason, Lord Elrond had told him he was going to brew him a potion to put him to sleep. It made sense…even if he did not feel comfortable with the one who offered it.
The young prince took the drink and eyed it suspiciously. His own knowledge of herbs and other medicines were much more limited and he had no idea of what he was being offered. Reading his hesitation, Lord Lucian added, “Your highness, if you would please, I can return this mug to him.”
Sighing, Legolas took a deep drink and was pleasantly surprised to find it quite sweet compared to any other potion he had been given before. Finishing it, he nodded a thank you to the Lord and waited for him to take his leave.
However Lucian did not. Instead he moved closer to Legolas as if waiting for something. The prince started to move away and was surprised by the nauseas dizziness that immediately washed over him. Something was wrong…he knew it immediately. His suspicions were confirmed as Lucian moved over him and he fought briefly as the other elf grabbed his wrists and bound them tightly together.
He tried to yell for help but his voice betrayed him and moments later his body followed and Legolas drifted into darkness.
Lucian easily finished trussing the elf. So far so good.
The dark elf had worried that Thranduil’s son would not take the drink. He really hadn’t a backup plan because one way or another he had to overcome the prince.
He knew he had precious little time before Elrond came back with the real sleeping drink. Lucian moved quickly.
* * *
The rangers were waiting outside Imladris and he tossed the prince’s unconscious body on the ground at Scarab’s feet.
“I never want to see this elf again”, he snarled extremely put out that he had to go through all this unnecessarily because of the man’s carelessness.
With a feral gleam in his eye, Scarab grabbed the prince up and slung him over his waiting horse, “No worry, my Lord. This elf is lost to all.”
Without any parting words, the two parties left. Scarab quickly rode back towards their new base camp as Lord Lucian made his way back to the house of Elrond.
Around them the trees rustled in agitation unbelieving what only they had witnessed. Although Lucian had delivered other elves to the rangers, it had never before been at the feet of the forest…they had never witnessed it before and in the quietness of the way trees dealt with everything; Lucian the elf was lost to them. No more would he curry their favor. He was no elf. No firstborn. He was as the orcs were to the trees. Lucian was dead to them.
With this silent decree made and pledged through the groves of Rivendell, a new silence fell across the land. The trees wept.
* * *
A loud commotion from the courtyard brought Aragorn running from his room. It was dark and he grabbed a light on his way. His brothers coming from their rooms joined their father on the way from the kitchen, and he hurried to catch up.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We don’t know”, Elrohir whispered as they raced out of the house and into the darkness.
The ‘commotion’ turned out to be a very agitated gray stallion that had broken out of the stable and was resisting all attempts to calm him down.
It was Nim’loki. Legolas’s horse.
* * *
The horse snorted and trumpeted loudly and his calling and carrying on was upsetting the other horses. Aragorn could hear them, including his own, as they answered the stallion.
Lord Glorfindel came to stand beside the Elrond and they stared in shock at the behavior of the Mirkwood horse.
“What’s going on?” Lord Elrond’s authoritative voice boomed in the courtyard and caused everyone to turn and look at him…well except the horse that offered one angry snort as if daring Elrond to lord over him as well.
“The creature has gone mad”, a voice behind Aragorn said and he turned and saw Lord Lucian coming from behind the house. He looked away quickly not wanting the elf to see how uncomfortable he made him. Aragorn couldn’t place his finger on it, but there was something very wrong with that elf.
Lord Elrond did not say anything although his ears would have easily picked up the comment; he was too intent on the disturbed horse that was still prancing around, his hooves clicking loudly on the stones. The horse was upset, yes…he could feel it but he felt there was something more to this as the angry animal had chosen to come towards the house as opposed to fleeing as it might do normally.
The stallion stopped pacing and walked slowly towards the lords only coming to stop a couple of feet in front of Elrond. Aragorn had unconsciously tensed as he was not sure what this horses’ intent was. In the back of his mind he wondered why Legolas hadn’t come out yet to calm his horse down. He had to have heard him.
The young ranger held his breath as he saw the dark brown eyes of the stallion bore into the equally dark blue ones of his father. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the twins were equally apprehensive.
Elrond read the anger in the equine face and was alarmed when he saw it was directed at the elves themselves. The stallion’s eyes held accusation and betrayal but before he could fully understand what was going on, Lucian moved to his side, and his action caused the stallion to rear up and to the shock of everyone, it moved to strike at the Lords. Only their quick reflexes kept Elrond and Lucian from the hooves.
“NO!” Elrond yelled but it was too late, an elven arrow with aim tried and true flew through the air and struck the still rearing animal. The dark brown eyes clouded over in pain as the arrow had struck it a deadly blow and as if frozen in time for one second, its gaze fixed on Elrond’s and the Lord was shaken by what he saw. Remorse. But not that it had acted as it did…but because it had failed.
Nim’loki, the white dragon, fell to the ground. Dead.
Around Elrond, voices were asking if he and Lucian were all right but he didn’t hear them as he watched Glorfindel already kneeling by the still beast gently rub the noble neck. His heart ached as he turned and looked into the wide eyes of his youngest son, “Find the prince.” The words were barely out of his mouth before Aragorn was running back into the house with his own heart pounding. He was in disbelief that the prince’s own horse had tried to kill his father. Everything had happened so fast, he did not realize that Lucian had been in the intended path of the flailing hooves.
* * *
“Legolas!” Aragorn’s voice rang though the upper halls as he took the stairs two at a time, “Legolas!”
He rapped impatiently on the door and then pushed it open, a nagging doubt was beginning to fill his heart and it was confirmed a moment later, when he stood inside the empty guest room. Legolas was gone.
* * *
Elrond knelt down beside Glorfindel and was surprised to see a tear on the blond Lord’s cheek. His own heart ached as if he had done a horrible wrong to this horse. As if sensing the question in his friend’s mind, Glorfindel spoke soft enough only for Elrond to hear, “Nim’loki was a gift from Thranduil to his son. It was the offspring of Selestriel’s own mare, Nar'loki, who made her own way back to Mirkwood after the Queen’s death. It is as if we lose her again…and I fear how Legolas will take it. I do not think there are anymore of her line.”
“Ada!’ the note of panic in Aragorn’s voice made Elrond forget the horse for one moment as he jumped back to this feet and turned as his human son ran out of the house, “Legolas is gone!”
“That’s impossible…” Elladan said quietly from his place behind Glorfindel. He looked down at the dead horse, “He wouldn’t have left without his horse.”
Elrond stared down at the horse for a few moments his mind searching for some answer to this horrible puzzle. Around him the forest had gone silent and it stirred uneasiness in his chest. What was going on?
“Search for the prince immediately. He is our first priority and I just pray to Illuvatar that nothing ill has befallen him”, even as he spoke the words, he was sure they wouldn’t be so lucky.
* * *
Scarab watched the unconscious elf with bright eyes. He could hardly restrain his excitement at having this elf back. After he had tasted him, he could think of nothing else. In his life, he had experienced the blood of many elves but had never found one with such potency. It was as a drug to him and he was addicted.
It took everything for him not to cut the elf right now and enjoy his fix, however, he would not. The blood was only half of it; the other half would be the look on the elf’s face as he took his twisted pleasure.
No, he would wait for the prince to awaken. They had old times to reminisce about and new ones to experience.
* * *
Lord Glorfindel did not come back to the house with the other elves. He stayed to oversee the proper burial of Legolas’ horse and it was early morning when he finally went into the trees to seek some solace.
The trees were very quiet and he could feel them watching him with wary eyes. Their distrust of him was troubling – elves had always had an easy way with nature. And now as he was watched with almost hostile eyes he wondered what had happened to make them feel like this.
Speaking softly, he gently laid his hand against a strong thick trunk and closed his eyes. At first the trees would not talk to him, as they did not trust after what they had witnessed. Even the birds that hung in the branches above him, did not sing. They did nothing but watch him warily.
In fact, now that he noticed it, the forest was eerily quiet. Nothing moved and it was not the threats of an intruder that had stilled its voices…but disappointment.
“What have we done to deserve the ire of such nobles as the very forest we live in?” he asked quietly in the high tongue, hoping to get some sort of answer. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to the elf, he felt a slight rustling in the treetops. It was so faint at first he could not hear what they were saying but then as more trees joined in their voices he heard it very clearly.
Pulling his hand back as he had been bitten, he stared open mouthed in shock at what the trees were now screaming…traitor…
* * *
Aragorn knelt down and ran his fingers gently over the forest floor. He too had sensed that something was amiss in the trees but without the unique perception of an elf, he was not as preoccupied by it as his brothers were who waited patiently behind him. Although he wasn’t looking at them, he could tell they wore identical quizzical looks on their faces as they stared at the trees around them trying to determine why they felt a bitterness so bad they could taste it in their mouths.
Standing up, Aragorn began to lightly follow the tracks he knew were the rogue rangers. He was surprised to be tracking them so easily. They were being sloppy and he hoped it was because they were distracted by something and not they were leading them into a trap.
The twins followed keeping a wary look out as they felt that they could no longer depend on the trees to warn them of danger.
“Oh valar”, the sound of Aragorn’s voice distracted the elf’s from the trees and they lightly ran to his side. The young ranger’s horror-filled face turned up to theirs as he voiced his discovery, “It’s the Mirkwood falcon.”
The twins knelt down and felt the horror that marked their brother’s face – it was indeed Menel’ohtar, the messenger that the King of Mirkwood had sent.
The bird was dead. It’s message unreturned.
“He doesn’t know”, Elrohir said his voice barely a whisper, “The King doesn’t know that Legolas was safe.”
“Was”, Aragorn echoed hollowly. And then he noticed something else and his voice turned to ice as his eyes lit on the arrow that pierced the noble breast, “This bird was shot by an elf.”
* * *
“There is a traitor in Rivendell”, Lord Glorfindel spoke quietly as he stepped up beside Elrond who was looking out the window with his hands crossed lightly behind his back.
“I know”, Elrond said softly and turning around, he slumped down into one of the large armchairs that graced the fire in his private study.
Glorfindel did not say anything but waited for Elrond to indicate to him to sit down. Which he did immediately, before wiping a hand across his tired face. It was already mid afternoon, and the search for Legolas had started before sunup and there was still no word. It was as if the prince had just vanished.
“The prince’s escort was given up by someone who knew he was coming. By his own tormentors account, he was given to them. I should have seen it before… my dear friend, we have a traitor under our roof and now I am afraid that he may have struck again, “ Elrond’s voice reflected the weariness he felt, “I do not understand how such treachery could take place around me and yet I felt nothing except a shadow.”
“Lord of Imladris”, Glorfindel addressed softly, “even with your perception, you are not a god. Obviously there is something at work here that is cloaked by an evil that knows our perceptions and lies asleep at our very feet. You cannot be blamed for not knowing that this darkness was abusing your hospitality. However…” his voice trailed off as he was a bit reluctant to go any further. He had his suspicions but he was still hesitant because if he were wrong…
“However?” Elrond screwed a look to his face imploring his friend to go on. He was at a loss and suspected that his own closeness to this might be obscuring his view. The realization that it was indeed a traitor was not one that he had arrived at easily.
“However it did not slip my notice that the prince’s horse was upset with us”, Glorfindel understated, “and I felt the same ire when I walked in our fair woods only but a while ago. The very trees are accusing us of a betrayal that is unthinkable. An elf betraying an elf….”
“To a man…Legolas”, Elrond whispered his worst fear realized. The prince had been abducted out of his house…under his very nose. The horse had known, of course. The accusation had been seen its eyes…an elf betraying an elf. Nim’loki’s elf.
Elrond felt as if all the air in Rivendell had turned to a poisonous gas that they had been breathing but had no knowledge of.
“May the valor save us from the wrath of Thranduil if we do not find his son…or this traitor”, Elrond said quietly to himself and then he stood up, “Come let’s gather Lucian. Maybe between the three of us we can figure out who this beast is.”
With a nod, Lord Glorfindel got up and followed. Yes, maybe between the three of them they could…
* * *
“Wakey…wakey elf”, the words whispered in his ears, sent sharp terror through Legolas’s body. It was Scarab.
* * *
Aragorn was frustrated. He had lost the trail. Standing up, he shook his head at his brothers, “I’m not good enough. I can’t do this!”
Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a look before the older twin spoke softly, “Do not doubt your abilities young brother. They do not err. However, it is difficult at the best times to track a ranger, as would be an elf. And I fear that these foul men had recovered their senses and started taking more care with their tracks. It amazes me how clumsy they were when they were so close to Imladris.”
“Come on Estel. It is growing late,” Elrohir tried to turn his brother around. They understood how frustrated the young ranger felt and they shared it as their hearts were equally pained that their long time friend might once again be in the hands of the men who had hurt him so grievously, “We need to find somewhere safe for the night.”
Aragorn turned hopeful eyes on his brothers, “Then we’re not going back to Imladris tonight?”
“No”, smiled Elladan sadly, “I fear we would lose too much time in the morning to get this far. Legolas is close. We cannot turn our backs on him.”
Feeling a bit better, Aragorn settled down and tried to get some sleep. But it was very hard when his mind kept replaying what had happened to Legolas the last time Scarab had him.
As he stared at the moon and stars he wondered why he felt such a connection to the elf he had only just met. But for some reason, he felt a kinship with him that he could not explain.
* * *
A large troop of elves moved into Rivendell. Outriders for the king, raced into Imladris and signaled his approach.
Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel stood in the courtyard and waited. It had been almost a thousand years since Elrond had seen Thranduil and to say he was nervous was an understatement.
The King stopped just inside the courtyard and the large number of warriors that accompanied him took Elrond aback. He could feel the concern of the Noldor elves of Rivendell as they eyed their silvan counterparts. He had a premonition that this would require a good deal of tact to keep from going very badly and he hoped that he had enough left.
“Elrond”, Thranduil said coldly, not bothering to dismount. Tall, and blond, it was easy to see the comparison between him and Legolas. Anyone who had seen either of them would make the automatic connection, “I wish to see my son.”
The Lord of Imladris bristled under the coldness of the King and he tried to keep his tone even, “I am sorry good King, but your son is not here right now.”
The King stiffened perceptively, “Did my prince not even make it as far as Imladris this time?” His tone was even frostier and Elrond was confused. The bird should have gotten back to the King by now. As if he could read the Lord’s thoughts, the King demanded, “Where is my messenger?”
Elrond exchanged a concerned look with Glorfindel, “The bird was sent back days ago with a message.”
“The message never arrived, “ Thranduil’s icy voice retorted.
“Are you sure?” The question was off Elrond’s lips before he even realized it – that was how startled he was to find out the messenger had not returned. Around him, the wood-elf warriors tensed, their liege was not one to question.
Thranduil’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He was the king of a realm and not used to be being questioned…or second-guessed. However, he was not in Mirkwood right now, so he tried to keep his retort in check and answered the question, “I am certain. ”
Elrond stiffened at the tone but it was Lord Glorfindel who could be credited for preventing a possible war between the two realms at the very second, as he responded quickly, “King Thranduil, I fear that there is a treachery afoot that seeks to claim against both Mirkwood and Rivendell. Peace old friend, we need to talk and I do not think the courtyard is the proper venue.”
The lord of Imladris had never been more proud of his friend’s tact then he was at that moment as the army of Thranduil stood in his courtyard and he himself was unable to keep his own rising temper in check.
Thranduil looked at Glorfindel, whom he considered a trusted and worthy friend, and sighed heavily, “As you wish.”
Casting a furtive eye across the sea of silvan warriors, Elrond spoke quickly, “Your warriors would be better used to find your son for I fear that something evil had befallen him. He was taken from my house only a few hours ago and I fear that if we do not find him quickly, he will be lost to us.”
Thranduil stopped and the two great elves gazed deeply into each others eyes. Elrond allowed the penetrating search of the silvan elf. If it would avert a war, he would allow the probe.
Thranduil finally sighed and turned away from the Noldor Lord. His voice was softer now and weary sounding. He had seen deeply into Elrond’s soul and held him no malice. Elrond had not known there was a traitor in Imladris.
The king uttered a loud dwarfish curse that would have made a dwarf proud, angry that an elf could have done this…and to his family. Turning to his warriors, he instructed Réal, the head of the guard, to work with the Noldor elves to scour ever inch of Rivendell for any sign of Legolas.
With a nod, the warriors set about their task as their king stepped foot inside the Last Homely House for the first time in almost a thousand years.
It was only then that Elrond glanced around and noticed that someone was missing. Addressing Glorfindel, he asked, “Where is Lucian?”
* * *
King Thranduil was in shock. His son was missing, abducted right out from under Lord Elrond’s nose it would seem…his son’s original escort were all dead…rouge blood lusting rangers…his own beloved falcon was missing, probably dead…and his son’s horse had been killed. What the hell was happening in Rivendell??
Nim’loki…his heart saddened at that loss and he knew that when they found Legolas, his son would take the horse’s death hard. He loved that stubborn creature…and the affection was reciprocated. It also saddened his heart because it was the last in the line of horses from the very one his wife had ridden out of Imladris a millennia ago.
Rubbing his tired eyes, his thoughts returned to the soft conversation between Elrond and Glorfindel even as the blond Lord was saying, “…I think the horse went one step further. While the trees are only accusing, they do not have the same power of action, as do the animals. What if Nim’loki was attempting more then his accusation? But to fell the very offender himself.”
Elrond’s face darkened even before Glorfindel finished, “And it was not you whom the hooves were aimed at my friend.”
“Lucian,” Elrond and Glorfindel echoed the name simultaneously as Thranduil turned the full power of his gaze upon them.
They had found out their traitor…Lord Lucian.
* * *
But one thing was painfully apparent…they would need help if they were to rescue Legolas.
There were just too many rangers for them to be confident of success. Yes, they could probably dispatch of most of them however, not without giving Scarab a change to dispense of the prince. No, Aragorn and Elladan would wait while Elrohir brought back help. It would be the best way.
With one final look that told them to be careful, the younger twin disappeared silently behind them and the other two settled down to watch the camp.
“What do your keen ears hear?” Aragorn asked a little while later as he could see that Elladan was trying to pick up some conversation and his brother held up his hand immediately silencing him.
With a growing look of horror, Elladan turned to Aragorn. He could not tell him what he was hearing for it had pierced his heart…all he could say was, “We do not have time.”
Aragorn understood immediately and his own heart jumped at the tone of his brother’s voice.
Elf eyes and human eyes locked as each tried to come up with a plan that might give them hope for success until Elladan finally said, “I will distract them…you get the prince.” He would have preferred to spare the young ranger from the discovery, but it was unavoidable…if they wished to succeed.
Aragorn started to argue but his older brother fixed him with a firm look more often seen on their father’s face as he said in a tone that brooked no nonsense, “No Estel. I am afraid that I will attract more attention then you…merely another man amid the chaos of men.”
Reluctantly he had to agree although he hated the idea of them splitting up so instead he asked with ardent eyes scanning the rogue rangers camp, “Do you know where the prince is?”
Elladan nodded and indicated the largest of the tents in the center of the compound, “He is in there. Be careful Estel…Scarab is with him.” And then to the ranger’s complete surprise, Elladan removed his dark gray cloak and handed it to him. He pushed it away protesting, “’Dan, your cloak will not help me blend. And I still have my own.” The ranger was confused at his brother’s offering but Elladan’s grave voice whispered quietly, “it is not for you.”
Slowly an understanding was dawning on his, hesitatingly, as it was a darkness that he feared no light could dispel. He accepted the cloak and started to move away but the elf grabbed his arm and held it for a moment, “Estel…” he wanted to warn the ranger but no words would come. He only hoped they were not too late. So instead he just said, “Do not take time we do not have.”
Nodding in understanding, the two brother’s clasped arms, in a warrior’s embrace before Elladan turned and silently left.
Around them the trees nodded in approval as they too hoped it was not too late.
* * *
The rangers’ horses were tethered safely amongst the bushes a small distance from the camp and they watched the elf with curiosity when he dropped lightly to the ground among them. They did not give any warning to the rangers as the trees had already foretold of his intent and they allowed him to come.
With ears flickering, they heard the distress of the other elf…the one in Scarab’s tent and their equine hearts went out to the young one. They sensed his kinship to them and thus allowed Elladan uncommented access to them.
Elladan moved among them softly speaking in the grey tongue and asking for their assistance. The horses belonged to the rangers so he was not sure how they react to him. He was counting on them at least listening to his request before they alerted the camp. Either way, it would be a distraction. One he hoped would give Aragorn enough time.
But he also needed to be quick so he could get back to the camp to watch his brother’s back. Deep down, he hoped Elrohir would not have had to go far to get help and just maybe Illvutar would smile down on them…just maybe.
Stroking the forehead of a dark black horse, the elf made his proposition. Scarab’s horse tossed his head softly – the elf should not have worried for horses are, by nature, good beasts and they held no loyalty to the rogues that harnessed them. Any love they held for the men who rode them had been bleed out of them with the life of the first elf that their masters consumed.
Smiling Elladan deftly released the horses and then moved back into the trees.
A few moments later, the large black horse trumpeted loudly rearing up on its hindquarters as if an Orc himself was on its back.
The other horses quickly followed suit and rangers hurried from the camp to see what the problem was. Within minutes the whole camp was in chaos as men were shouting and trying to calm down the frantic animals, which had now burst away from the bushes and ran, haphazard through the camp.
A shout of “ORCS” was immediately echoed throughout the camp and Elladan, the instigator of the cry, would remember the event with much humor…if any of them lived to tell the tale.
The elf that cried ‘orc’.
Shaking his head at the pandemonium that overtook the rangers’ camp, he jumped nimbly from tree to tree until he was as close to Scarab’s tent as he could get. Notching an arrow, he watched silently as Aragorn easily made his way towards the tent…and then went in.
* * *
Elladan was right. Once the horses had broken free and the rangers thought orcs had attacked (which they really should have known better as it was the middle of the day and orcs worked their foul deeds at night…but such it was that in the turmoil of the camp, logic went astray), the young ranger easily made his way towards the large tent. No one questioned the man.
With one quick look over his shoulder he lifted the tent flap and stepped inside.
* * *
Elrohir traded some stealth for speed. He was confident that his risk was minimal, as they had seen many rangers in the camp. However, that did not stop him from immediately notching an arrow and preparing to let it fly when someone unexpected stepped into his path.
It was only years of control that kept the arrow from flying from the bow as Elrohir stopped in his tracks in surprise and wariness.
It was a silvan elf.
* * *
The sight that greeted the young ranger’s eyes when he entered the dank tent was one that would remain burned in his mind for the rest of his life. Momentarily paralyzed by horror, quickly replaced by fury, Aragorn’s chest heaved as he advanced on the large man who was leaned over the prince. Aragorn struck with such deadly intent, an orc would have been proud.
Scarab barely had time to register that that the other was there, before Aragon grabbed him by his arm and pulled him from the prince. He could not have struck him with his sword for fear of striking Legolas so first he had to separate them.
And then without even a hesitation he swung his blade in a deadly arc and Scarab’s body dropped to the ground, cleaved in two.
Shaking from his own emotion, Aragorn swiftly turned and knelt by the prince. Thankful for his brother’s dark insight, the young ranger gently wrapped the elven cloak around the trembling elf to hide his vulnerability.
“Legolas?” he said gently not daring to touch the prince for fear of causing him more distress, although as he took in the state of the silvan elf - even now fairly cloaked, he wondered if that were possible. He knew that the prince’s body was covered in small cuts and, he swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat, bite marks along with a wide colorful assortment of bruises and abrasions.
The elf had his eyes tightly shut but at the sound of Aragorn’s voice, he opened them and turned to look at the young ranger avoiding direct eye contact. He had retreated into himself, too thankful for the interruption of Scarab’s intentions to even register what had happened.
“Can you move?” Aragorn refrained from asking if the elf were okay because of the obvious, but he had no idea how much damage had been done and whether or not Legolas could move on his own.
The elf nodded weakly as he pulled Elladan’s cloak tightly around his body and pushed himself to his feet with his good hand. His legs trembled under his weight and as Aragorn reached out to steady him, Legolas reactively flinched and started to apologize but the young ranger stopped him, “Hush Legolas, we do not have the time…or the reason for such sentiment.”
Appraising the stiffness and hesitancy in the elf’s normally fluid movements, Aragorn prayed that Elladan was close by because he knew that it would anguish the prince even more if he had to carry him.
Aragorn understood the elf’s reaction to him and did not take it personally. Although it angered him that the callousness of one had caused the prince to recede back over the tentative bridge of friendship that they had only just struck up.
With one final look at Scarab’s body, Aragorn cursed himself for not finding Legolas in time and then carefully moving around the prince, he went to the door of the tent to see if the way was clear.
* * *
Come on Estel…hurry…Elladan thought to himself as he saw the camp starting to recover and wondered what was keeping him. He hoped Legolas was not injured anymore then he had already feared.
And then his keen eyes caught the slight movement of the tent flap being pulled back slightly and he breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw Aragorn peek out around. He didn’t see Legolas but knew he must be alive…at least. If they had been too late, Elladan doubted his often times rash brother would be acting with such caution.
He risked shooting one bow into the side of the tent to draw Aragorn’s gaze to his position. It worked. With a brief nod, the ranger closed the flap again briefly and then stepped outside.
As soon as he saw Aragorn come out a moment later, he realized what had caused the brief delay and nodded in approval.
* * *
The young ranger jumped slightly when the bow hit the tent but then he sighed in relief as he followed its path and saw Elladan nimbly sitting in a tree not too far from the camp. Without a second thought, he stepped back long enough to unclasp his own cloak and he handed it to the prince who was now standing …well swaying really, behind him. Without question and with trembling fingers, Legolas put this second cloak on over the elven one, pulled the hood up over his blond locks and stepped out of the tent behind the ranger.
They had almost gotten away with it when about 20 feet from Elladan, Scarab’s body was discovered and Aragorn was recognized, almost simultaneously. Yells of “Stop them!” and “The elf’s escaped!” sprang up around them.
Under the cover of Elladan’s arrows, the ranger and the prince reached the tree where the dark haired elf was and started to climb it. Elladan suspended his bow work briefly to grab the prince and haul him up in front of the ranger as he saw that Legolas’s damaged hand was hindering his climb. Scarab had obviously broken his fingers…again. Clenching his jaw, the older twin coldly continued dispensing with as many rangers as he could.
“We need…to get out…of here”, Legolas rasped weakly as he pushed himself away from the tree trunk and stood on one of the limbs.
“Can you move on your own?” Aragorn asked as he could see that his friend was badly hurt and the silvan elf just nodded, “I’ll…have too.”
Nodding in agreement, the three friends started the perilous flight through the trees.
Elladan and Aragorn kept a cautious eye on Legolas as they moved as quickly as possible. The trees themselves seemed to bend and strain in an effort to help them…particularly the young broken prince.
The rangers had rounded up most of the horses and the lead that they had was quickly being reduced.
Without warning, Legolas misjudged the distance he needed to jump to the next tree and before either Aragorn or Elladan could grab him, he fell towards the forest floor far beneath them.
“LEGOLAS!”
Thranduil heard the frantic yell and looked up in time to see his son fall from a tall tree. Faster then anyone could have thought possible, the King had thrown himself from his horse and managed to catch the elf before he could hit the ground. The force of the impact knocked him down hard, but it was nothing compared to what would have happened if he had not been there. His actions were the only thing that kept the prince from certain death.
The rogue rangers stopped in their tracks and attempted to retreat as they saw the large contingent of elves that seemed to have come out of nowhere in front and below them.
Aragorn and Elladan deftly climbed down the tree and were embraced warmly by Elrohir before they turned to see how Legolas was.
“What took you so long?” Elladan chided gently very relieved by his brother’s timely appearance.
Elrohir grinned as he shook his head and rolled his eyes, “You know how silvan elves are….”
* * *
Legolas opened his eyes and stared blurrily up into the face of someone he thought he would never see again, ‘Ada?” he said weakly and his father laughed from relief and hugged him tightly, “Oh Legolas…I thought I had lost you.”
After a few moments, he let Legolas pull away a bit and the younger elf grinned up even through his pain as his father admonished gently, “Elfling, I have not had to move like that in a long time…I think I pulled something.”
Around him the other elves and human laughed as Thranduil easily gained his feet still holding his son in his arms. He was alarmed at how light Legolas felt and wondered when the last time was that the elf had actually eaten. His anxiety grew as he realized what the young elf was wearing…or more accurately what he wasn’t.
Too tired to even notice his father’s concern, Legolas closed his eyes and let himself finally relax. He was safe, “You’ve never let me fall…” his voice trailed off and his father looked down at him for a few moments as his eyes trailed away to the past when a younger king and his elfling played among the trees. Legolas trusted his father to always catch him when he fell…and the king always did. He had never let his son fall.
“How could I?” Thranduil said gently pulling his son closer to his chest again as he gracefully mounted his horse and adjusted his hold on his son, carefully pulling the cloaks protectively around him and away from prying eyes. With a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that the human and Noldor elves were being taken care of, he spurred his horse towards Imaldris. The rogue rangers were being rounded up and he took only enough of the warriors with him to enusre they faced no trouble on their trek back to Imladris.
Réal stayed behind to oversee rounding up the rogues.
* * *
Lucian was in disbelief. This could not be happening!
With one final glare, he quickly moved away from the area. It would never do for him to be caught by Thranduil or the Noldor elves.
His master would not be pleased…
* * *
Aragorn and the twins rode on borrowed horses behind the king. They were exhausted after their almost unstopped journey through the woods looking for the prince and only now, safely surrounded by elves on horseback and in the trees, they allowed their guards down. They would let the watch be taken by the Mirkwood elves.
It was only then that Aragorn noticed something different. He could hear the birds of the forest singing gloriously once again, heralding their return and he felt a smile play across his features even as he heard Elladan’s voice, “We have restored ourselves…now let us hope that it is enough.”
* * *
Legolas’s body hurt with each movement of the horse and he bit his lip to keep from crying out even as his father’s voice comforted him. Around him he could feel the forest pressing down on them as if to protect their passing from detection by any who would do them harm.
With his eyes closed, he could hear the sound of his father’s heart beating in his chest and it made his own constrict with pain. He had been shamed…he had not been strong enough…. he was weary.
Legolas had never before understood how an elf could be tired of Middle Earth but right now as they rode towards Lord Elrond’s house, a terrifying comprehension came. His heart ached for the loss of his friends…his body ached from the cruelty of the rangers…. his mind ached for the knowledge of what had been done to him…a dark knowledge that crept through his thoughts and made it difficult to breath.
His father’s voice continued to consol him even as he forced his eyes open and looked down at his hand, once again broken beneath Scarab’s torment and he was terrified that he would never string a bow again…that he could never be a warrior again. And then he remembered the look on Aragorn’s face when he saw the evil being done to him by Scarab…
The young prince felt himself being overwhelmed by everything and in his soul, he did not know if he could carry on. His thoughts fell to his mother and he remembered her clearly as she held him much the same as his father did know and whispered strength into his ears. But this time, he did not want to hear the words. He was hurting too much to allow himself to be comforted. It was too much effort to reach out and grasp that hand that was being offered to pull him to his feet.
He just wanted to rest.
“Legolas?” his father’s voice drew his gaze to his face and he heard the sharp exclamation as Thranduil caught a glimpse of the anguish in his soul. A lone tear escaped down the young elf’s face, as he turned his head away and closed his eyes. He was weary of this place and no longer wanted to be a part of it.
Even as he answered the call of the darkness, he felt the horse beneath him
urged to haste…but he did not care.
* * *
Thranduil had never been so terrified as he was when he looked into the soul of his young son and saw the loss that lay there. Barely a word was needed for his horse to respond as the fair animal felt the weariness that dragged the prince down.
They both knew that if they did not get him to Imladris in time, the heir of Mirkwood would be lost. He would give up the life that had become to heavy for him to carry.
And even as he rode, the King of Mirkwood was not at all convinced that Elrond would have the power to draw his son back. It weighed upon his every thought that even the powerful Lord of Imladris had not been able to call Selestriel back…
* * *
Aragorn didn’t understand his brother’s cryptic remark and didn’t have a chance to think too much of it as suddenly without warning, the king’s horse broke into a gallop and the others rushed to keep up.
His heart skipped a beat as he understood the reason for the urgency – they were losing the prince.
* * *
Lord Elrond heard the horses before they made the courtyard. He recognized what the thundering hooves heralded – an urgency that broke his heart. Legolas had been found but he was in despair. Elrond could feel the press of darkness on the bright light of the prince even before he saw Thranduil’s horse.
Barely a heartbeat later the king came riding into the courtyard with Legolas lying limply in his arms. Aragorn and the twins were right behind him but the king was still off his horse and in front of Elrond before they had even rounded into the courtyard.
“Please…” the king implored the other sovereign who immediately placed his hands on the side of Legolas’s face and closed his eyes. It only took a second for him to realize the real peril that the prince was in.
“Follow me…quickly!” his voice urged as he was already rushing into the house and upstairs.
Thranduil gently placed his son on the soft mattress and then stepped back. Although he had some power himself and could assist the other healer, his own heart was in so much turmoil that he was afraid his strength would waver.
Stepping past him knowingly, Lord Glorfindel laid a comforting hand on the king’s shoulder for a brief moment before moving to assist Elrond. No words needed to be passed between the two for Glorfindel to know the relief he had given the king by being here.
Letting out a sigh, Thranduil left the room, glancing only
once over his shoulder for the fear that this was the last time he would ever
see his son alive was frighteningly real. Elrond had not been able to save his
queen…could he save his prince?
* * *
Legolas felt himself being draw back to life. It was not painful or unpleasant, but rather warm and comforting. He could hear the voices of Elrond and Glorfindel as they spoke to him about the good in the world and the strength they knew he had.
But still the prince refused to give into that…to the hope. His mind was still singed by the wrongs that wounded his mind, heart and body. He felt very alone. Even the knowledge of his father was not enough to bandage his injured soul.
As he lingered near consciousness he was surprised when his thoughts turned to Aragorn…he remembered the comfort he had tried to offer when they first met and how he rebuked him…but yet the man still saved him and then struck up a friendship with him, in spite of the rejection…. and then he thought about the look on his face when the ranger had found him in the tent…
Opening his eyes, the young elf peered into the worried faces above him. He had to know…he had to see for himself…
* * *
Lords Elrond and Glorfindel came out of the room a little later and the king turned to meet them. He had not left but stood silently in the hall outside the room with Aragorn, and the twins. Beneath them, the Mirkwood soldiers waited quietly for word on their prince. Even with the large number of people in the house and outside in the courtyard, there was no sound.
Aragorn found it eerie. To be with so many people but to sound as if the room was empty was unsettling to the human and he was relieved when the door finally opened and his father stepped out.
Lord Elrond gave a small sad smile to the king before motioning to Aragorn, “Thranduil…is it too early to tell yet but he is awake and wants to see Estel.”
Everyone was surprised but none more then Aragorn who blushed slightly as all eyes turned to him and he did not dare look at the king before stepping into the room.
* * *
Legolas had his eyes closed when Aragorn stepped up the bed but as soon as he said his name, the prince opened his eyes and looked deeply into his own. Aragorn felt the search as a cold shiver over his body but he refused to look away. He let the prince search for whatever it was that had requested him into the room. And then after what felt like an eternity, Legolas closed his eyes and turned his head away.
The effort had cost him what little strength he had and Aragorn, worried, turned to leave unsure of why the prince had wanted to see him but the soft voice caught his ears, “Please stay.”
Without a thought, he immediately turned and sat down on the bed beside the prince. He didn’t know what else to do and wished his father or even Lord Glorfindel were there to advise him but they had stayed in the hall at the prince’s request. He had needed to see Aragorn alone.
After a few moments, the prince opened his eyes again and turned back towards Aragorn. When he spoke his voice was weak and trembled, “Thank you…thank you for seeing me…”
Aragorn was confused and it must have shown on his face because Legolas smiled weakly and tried to explain, “in your eyes…I do not see the hurt that you witnessed…or the condemnation that I myself feel…in the face of my weakness. You only see me…just me.”
Tears shone in the prince’s eyes and Aragorn leaned forward and took hold of his good hand. It felt cold and he rubbed it slightly to warm it even as he said gently, “Legolas…how can I see anything but you? You are my friend. What happened to you does not change that…it does not change who you are. Not to me…or anyone else who cares about you. You are my friend…and that has not changed!”
Hearing such strong conviction from the young ranger was the final straw for the emotionally wracked young elf. Legolas broke down and Aragorn moved until he was sitting beside the prince and then he gently embraced him and allowed the prince to cry against his chest even as tears stung his own cheeks. Yes, when he looked at his friend, he saw only him and not the atrocity done to him, but it still hurt. It was something he could never forget. But he felt no shame for Legolas and that was what the prince had been searching for…he had needed to know.
The prince pulled away from him gently and Aragorn let him go. Deep down he was relieved that even in light of what Scarab had done to him, Legolas had allowed him, another man, to comfort him. This spoke volumes to him.
Legolas would get past this. It would take time. And if the prince allowed, he would help him.
Lying back against the pillows, Legolas smiled weakly at his friend as he said sincerely, “I am sorry.”
“For what?” Aragorn inquired quietly not sure where this was coming from.
“For being rude to you… when you asked how I was doing,” Legolas spoke frankly wondering how the human could have forgotten for it was angry words that they had last spoken to each other before the prince’s abduction. Aragorn laughed, “Oh Legolas, I have long forgotten that. Besides, I didn’t really take it to heart”, he was lying of course but it was so inconsequential in light of everything that had happened, that he did not care anymore.
“Aragorn”, Aragorn was surprised when Legolas called him by his real name. He had not even known that the prince knew his true identity. Legolas saw the surprise and smiled knowing that the ranger did not know that he had known.
“Yes Legolas?”
Legolas took a deep breath before he answered, “I was prepared.” And in that one admission he felt as if a heavy weight had been taken from him. Closing his eyes, he sunk back against the mattress and welcomed that weary darkness that had been threatening him since he had first opened his eyes to Elrond and Glorfindel. His body desperately needed to rest.
“Legolas?” Aragorn whispered at first alarmed but then when he realized that the prince was sleeping, albeit with his eyes closed which attested to his worn state as elves normally slept with their eyes half lidded, he relaxed. Sitting back, he continued to hold his friend’s hand and watch over him as he slept. Somehow it just felt right.
…She said “Nay my Lord Elrond. There is nothing you can do for me. It is beyond even you…Please…save my son.” Around them her melodic voice echoed and the Lord repressed the shiver of hearing the voice that no longer walked Middle Earth.
The child stared at him intently as if hearing the story for the first time. Elrond continued…she would not give you to me…”Please my Lord… I will give him to you…only if you save him. It is my time”
Chapter 4 -