Chapter Sixteen: Breath--Legolas

The company was silent, taking to the trees as phantoms of the wood.

Expressions solemn and weapons ready, they moved with quiet purpose, myself in their midst. There were some days when a jesting undertone would flit amid conversation, but today, voices were mute. Even the trees refused to speak, retreating into their wooden cores. Involuntary brushes of one leaf upon the other was the only song that the forest sang, the music dim and faint.

I sighed, but my breath was quieted by the winds that stirred around us. The dim glow of my warriors was the only light that brightened the forest's expanse, the sky too black to allow even the barest hint of sun. Our path was careful but quick, eyes searching for a threat and hands wandering towards our weapons. In some sense, my warriors seemed eager to happen upon a foe, anger toward the absence of Forven and reason behind such seeming to taint their every action. They were furious--and I would not temper their upset, for my own emotion ran high along theirs.

Breathing deeply, inhaling the heavy scent of shadow dampened air, I motioned my warriors to spread amid the trees--not far, but just enough to see more of the forest. They moved seamlessy, stances vigilant and ever watchful. I shifted between them, being sure that nothing hid--that nothing could creep upon us like a web spun in the night.

To my right, a patch of grass caught my eye. For a time, the green blades were hardly disturbed on their surface, untouched even by the wind--but then they dipped, as if something had only just begun to smother then before realizing the mistake of the action.

I stepped forward, and as my boot scraped the ground I stiffened, realization dawning.

The forest was utterly silent. Ice pricked the air.

I whistled, the sound short yet urgent. "Daro." My eyes darted around me, searching, looking, waiting. More forcefully, I spoke again, tone cautious and breath stolen. "Daro. I'goth a tul ed duath."

My warriors moved quickly, hearing my summons coming near again. Caneir stood nearest to me, bow drawn but dagger hilt sticking out from his belt. A dangerous glint gleamed in his eye, yet somehow I felt that my own gaze matched his. "Car lle henia i?"

I huffed once, harshly, a bitter sneer tightening my jaw. "It's not a spider."

And then chaos was upon us.

Our bows and blades sang, preparing for battle, as an outpouring of blackened blurs poured from the forest's depths. One shape followed the other as they came upon us--who they were I could not see, but I knew their intent was that of malice. They slipped into our midst, spreading like ink into water, hidden by the shadows of a waning day.

My warriors entered the fight without my order, and our defense was quickly spurred to full force. While an arrow, perhaps even two, was fired into the air, our enemy crept too close for such a weapon. Swords and knives flashed silver, an eerie glow to every stroke that fell. I brought my knives in front of my chest as one enemy came in front of me. His actions were smooth, deft, and entirely too familiar. A glance to the foes my comrades fought brought clarity to my suspicion--each moved with the unhindered grace that could only have been of an elf.

My eyes grew wide. We fought our own, cold fury and fiery passion clashing.

The elf before me was vicious in his purpose. As his sword swung for my head, his dagger slid toward my side. Deflecting the sword and spinning out of arm's reach, I dropped low to the ground. Pushing forward off one leg, I ducked under my enemy's guard. With one thrust of my knife, I threw him off balance--a grunt sounded--he stumbled back, and before he could recover I kicked his chest. One step--two--and he fell upon the leafy ground. Before he could so much as make a movement to regain his feet, I straddled his chest, bringing one knife hilt down on his temple.

A thud--and then he was still.

Standing, I passed my gaze over the battle. Death was yet absent from the plain--but I feared how long such would remain.

Metal continued to ring, but the sound was dulled by the pounding of my heart. There was a prick at the back of my neck, trickling down my back. My shoulders tensed. I saw no one--not yet--so where?--I turned, bringing my knives above me. I had yet to complete the action, when a shock ran down my arms. I only just kept my knives crossed as I laid eyes on my opponent. My arms continued to shake from the impact, but I did not slow--I couldn't afford to. My knees bent, but I pushed upwards, determination surging through my blood. And again I was engaged in combat, still distantly aware of the rest of the plain.

As far as I could see, my warriors still stood--but they were beginning to waver. We had not been prepared for this. If spiders or even yrch had crossed our path, we would have fought without a moment's hesitation. But these elves; who they were and why they fought was an unknown, and that in itself was unsettling.

I thought we might come victorious. Few of the enemy were left standing--their numbers dwindled. Victory was just within our grasp--and then a call halted the battle, carrying words that scarred my memory.

"Still your weapons or he dies!"

I did not know the voice--did not know whose life hung in the balance--but I ceased my fight. My warriors were quick to follow, and the battle came to a façade of an end. Silence fell once again. Searching--searching--searching--my gaze wandered. There was only one possibility to threat's meaning.

And then I found it. In the far reaches of the battle field, where I had hardly wandered in my combatting, two elves stood. One stood proud and tall, hood thrown back to reveal features that spoke the cruelty of centuries. The other elf, however, I knew. Eyes wide as a knife was pressed to his throat, Caneir was held captive against the dark elf. His hands trembled, mirroring the erratic rise and fall of his chest. An apology shone on his all too pale face.

"No, don't, you mustn't--" Caneir attempted to protest but his voice was soon stolen from him by his captor. The knife against his neck shifted, seeming to bite skin. I watched in muted horror as red appeared, dripping down from his neck until it slipped from the skin--spilling the first blood of the battle upon the leaves below.

"I do not make empty challenges, princeling." The elf's voice was a hiss, smirk twisting his lips.

I bit my tongue, glaring at the elf whose eyes met mine in a savage challenge. A battle waged between my heart and mind, until finally my spirit rose. I released my hold on my knives, ignoring the pleas of my warriors to do otherwise. This was not a risk that I could take, not when it was a battle I knew we would lose.

The soft thunk of other weapons soon followed my own, as they settled into the dirt, until my company stood undefended, unguarded, and entirely too vulnerable. "What do you want." I spoke flatly, unwilling to divulge my own, all too real emotion. I couldn't afford to show weakness now, despite my position. My warriors needed hope—I would offer as much as I could muster.

"Ah," the elf tsked, "such an angered tone... And to your kin even! You should temper your tongue, young Legolas, if you truly wish to stay among the living."

Kin? I flinched, the action slight but enough to be noticed, the veil of my illusion being pierced.

"Ai, you are confused, my prince? Ai, ai, ai, I should have known. Truly, I should have expected this, that Thranduil would not have told you. " He pushed Caneir away from himself, and into the awaiting arms of one of his own warriors. "We have much to speak of then." A subtle nod of his head was all it took, and his warriors were in action. Some of them remained oblivious to the world, sprawled upon the ground, but the others were quick to take action.

My quiver was pulled from my back, bow ripped from my hands as every dagger I might have concealed was taken from me. From my boots to my shoulder guards I was searched until I was left with no weapon but my fists, but even then my hands were tied behind my back, rope biting into my skin. I did not protest, unwilling to give them more satisfaction than they deserved, but I could not smother a growl as a blindfold was tied over my eyes.

This was cruelty not of the wood elves. I knew what blackness looked like, for the forest had been tainted by it for far too long. But the dark that I looked into now was different; there was no beauty to it, instead being an abyss in which I wandered, lost in a maze that I could not see. There was no escape from the prison that encased me, no key for a lock that did not exist.

I bit my lip to stifle a cry of surprise as one elf shoved my shoulder, pushing me forward, a brutish jeer falling from his lips. The world tilting, I only just stayed standing, prepared for the next inevitable jab. Planting my feet in the earth, I held myself firm, allowing myself to be pushed through the forest, but refusing to be mocked. The walk could only have been minutes, but even that short time was much too long. At some point, my neck was pushed low as we seemed to duck into a cave, continuing into it for several moments before coming to a halt.

When the blindfold was ripped away, I sighed, glad to be able to see but dreading what I may find.

It seemed my dread was well deserved, for what I saw sent a stab of fear into my heart. Stone walls towered around us, meeting a tall ceiling. It was grand yet... familiar? Some memory struggled to be free inside my mind, but I pushed it away as the elf—my "kin"—came into my line of sight.

He sauntered down the hall, arms spread beside him. His dark hair swung as he moved, brushing against his shoulders. "Ah welcome!" He spun in a circle, slow and precise. "This is my kingdom, princeling. Do you like it?" Whilst he spoke, he moved closer to me, boots kicking dust into the air.

I resisted the urge I had to spit at his feet, as overwhelming as the desire was. Instead, my glare held against his, a duel of light and dark, until he smiled. "Oh, you are just like your father, aren't you? The king." He shook his head, looking down. "Ah, but I knew that already. That is no surprise. Tell me, tithen-caun, do you truly not know who I am?"

I could feel the gazes of my warriors on my back as I remained silent, studying the elf in front of me. He was playing a game—what kind I had yet to determine, but I did not like its intent. For the present, my best course of action appeared to be keeping my mouth shut, lest he pry more than he need know from my lips.

My silence, however, seemed to have a price. The elf stood still in one second, but in the next there was a flash of movement, and pain exploded across my jaw. "You ignorant elfling, answer me when I speak to you, and I will not tell you again."

This time, I did spit, blood from my mouth staining the dusty stone ground. Considering my words carefully, I looked at him. "I have never laid eyes on you in my life, and even should I have, I would not wish to remember a face as tainted as yours."

The cave was devoid of movement. I did not know what reaction my words would incur, and I was not keen to find out, but I did not regret them. Prepared for what might come, I waited, one second dragging after the next.

But then the quiet was shattered, the elf's bitter, haunting, cruel laugh enrapturing all sound. "Ah, you are too wonderful, tithen-caun." He took a dagger from his belt, absently tossing it in the air. My eyes followed the gleaming blade, watching, waiting. "We really must get to know each other better, nephew. Too long has passed since I have seen such fire... I heard rumor that you took after your mother, but now I see. You're nothing like her at all. She a had a kind heart, a gentle spirit—and you would know it as well, if your father had not murdered her so long ago."

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To be continued...

Daro. I'goth a tul ed duath : Stop, the enemy comes from the dark

Car lle henia i : do you know who?

Tithen-caun : little prince

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