Fan Fiction ❯ Demons in the Dark ❯ Chapter 4

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Italics indicate memory or dreams.

Commonly used Sindarin words:

Ai: Oh!
pen-neth: young one
muindor: brother
gwador: sworn brother, not those by blood
Ada: dad
melethron: lover
a'maelamin: lover
ernil-nín: my prince
ion nín: my son
*~*~*

Memory and dream invaded the blissful dark of unconsciousness. Images came at random and shifted rapidly, not letting the one who saw easily distinguish the end of one and the beginning of the next.
**

The trees were his comfort, his home. The trees in Mirkwood were different from those in Imladris. No more or less special were either, just different. Imladris had the air of perpetual autumn, though it had not always been so. Legolas could remember a time when Imladris was as green as a young forest. But as the world aged and the time of the First Born drew to a close, Imladris faded as well. He had watched over the years, through his fostering and the many visits that followed, as the air of the elven refuge faded slowly, from bright clear blue, to a dusty blue gray, the trees changing as well. There were still a few green trees left in Imladris, and Legolas knew where to find them all.
***

His rooms in Mirkwood always seemed cold and dark after the open airiness of Imladris. The trees were so close, the canopy providing shelter from the elements, blocking out most of the starlight overhead. Legolas knew his father was waiting for him in the main hall, so he just took enough time to drop his bags on the bed and change out of his riding clothes.

Dressed in more formal wear, Legolas barely remembered to tuck the ring around his neck under his collar before stepping into the hall, to be greeted by his father the King, and no less than ten families, all with young daughters, the Prince noted. Swallowing his sigh, Legolas bowed to his King and steeled himself for what was becoming his typical homecoming.
**

Elladan laid him gently on the bed, smiling behind the dark curtain of hair that had been released from its confining clip moments earlier.

Legolas returned the grin as his lover climbed on the bed, straddling him. The blonde scooted backwards, the grin turning into laughter as Elladan fell over him, bare chests bumping together.

Elladan tilted his head and kissed Legolas gently. "I love you, ernil-nín."

"And I you, a'maelamin," Legolas whispered, pulling his lover down for another deep kiss.
**

The shadows lurked. Everywhere Legolas turned there were more shadows, just waiting for him to lower his guard. Their hissing laughter burned his ears and caused his head to throb painfully. Their touch seared his skin and left behind a trail of ice.

There was no way to escape them. He found himself in a room with no exit, just an entrance that was quickly filling with the murky beings. He was backed into a corner as the things closed in on him, rapidly filling the small space. The air became dense and thick as the shadows closed in, making it difficult to breathe.

Legolas could not escape their touch and he fought for breath as the pain and cold over took him.
**

Legolas woke to pitch blackness, struggling for breath with cold sweat pouring off him. He shivered, hugging himself against the cold and pain. He felt weak and drained, hurt in too many places to count. Whatever poison had gotten into him was actively at work. He wanted to sleep, but it eluded him.

For timeless hours he laid awake, in pain and misery, trying to stave off the panic that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment. The walls seemed to close in on him, forcing him to hold tighter onto the thin line keeping him from full on panic. Noise carried through the badly hewn door that covered the entrance to his small prison.

By the time the Orcs came around for their next round of torture, the Prince was cowered in the corner of his stone cage, shaking with silent tears of fear and pain.
*~*~*

"There was a battle here," Estel said to Glorfindel softly. It was not long after sunup, the Man and fair elf riding since just before dawn, setting out from their camp just on the Imladris side of the High Pass through the Misty Mountains on their return from escorting Arwen to Lothlorien.

Together they dismounted, taking a short break from their ride to investigate. Any attack that close to Imladris was a concern for its lord, and whatever information his adopted human son and seneschal could gather would be greatly appreciated.

Estel followed the tracks of the battle with the trained of eyes of a Ranger.

"Yrchs?" Glorfindel asked.

"Most likely," Estel replied. "Growing bold if they're attacking riders on the road."

"One rider," Glorfindel gestured to the marks on the trail. "Though who would be foolish enough to ride alone is beyond me."

There was only one set of hoof prints, leading off the road into the forest beyond. With a soft word, their horses stayed close, though grazing, while the dark haired Man and blonde elf followed the tracks into the forest.

"The horse spooked here," Estel pointed out as the hoof prints darted sideways. "They were being forced backwards," he murmured.

"An Easterling trap," Glorfindel sighed wryly, kneeling next to the pit in the ground.

Estel knelt at the tracks leading into the hole. "They were forced in." He waved a hand over the prints. "The horse fell in back first, look at the marks." There were two sets of long ragged marks in the ground where it appeared the animal had scrabbled for purchase.

"The rider landed there," Estel pointed. "And the horse there." He rose and walked around the pit. "And they were pulled out here," he said softly, looking down at the drag marks on the forest floor. "Probably unconscious or dead. Doesn't look like there was any struggle." The tracks ended not far from the edge of the pit, indicating that the fallen were loaded onto the backs of their captors and carted off.

"Aye," Glorfindel responded to the grim news. He glanced up at the sun. "If we press on, we can make Imladris by early afternoon, and give our report. Elrond can then send out a search party."

Estel nodded. If the orcs had managed to take a prisoner, it was unlikely they would find the captive alive.

"Come," Glorfindel said gently, rising from where he had crouched to get a better look at the tracks. "I am old and weary and anxious for a hot bath, a warm meal, and my own bed," he said with a smile.

"Whose bed?" Estel teased lightly as they made their way back to where their horses grazed. "I believe I heard a rumor that your bed hasn't been slept in for over a century."

The blonde's ears pinked slightly. "Yes, well, it is still my bed, is it not, despite whom I share it with?"

"Aye," Estel answered with a light chuckle. " I suppose it would be. Though I would doubt that Lord Elrond would agree when he's grumbling about how you steal the blankets."

The Man delighted in the splutter that came from beside him. "And you're not old, Glorfindel. You're ancient."

Glorfindel stuck his tongue out at the young Man, a gesture betraying the Elven lord's years and position and causing the Man to laugh heartily. They mounted up, Glorfindel riding without tack, as was the way of the elves, and they resumed course back for Imladris, the promise of home in both minds.
Translation:

Yrchs: Orcs