Voices In The Dark

Title: Voices In The Dark
A/N: By this point you should know the drill…
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and coveted. Happiness is…!
And thank you Linauri for beta-ing.
This is one of the first chapters I wrote, and one of my favorites.


Chapter Eleven: Practice


It was a hot afternoon, Anor’s rays shining down unmercifully without a cloud to block her radiant face. The warriors of Imladris had been practicing weapons work all morning, training and comparing moves with the newer Mirkwood elves. Now they left the grounds, singly or in small groups, sweaty and dusty from their exertions. Many were making their way to the river, intent upon cooling themselves in the swift waters of the Bruinen.

Glorfindel paused on his way to the river, catching sight of a young elf practicing in the archery range. It was Legolas, still practicing even when all the others stopped to rest. He seemed tireless, even in the midst of sparring with the others, and when they dropped in defeat, he kept going with eyes seemingly devoid of emotion. It was an unnerving sight, which tended to make the other elves reluctant to choose him as a sparring partner. Only the other Mirkwood elves seemed unfazed by Legolas’ strangely cold, single-minded countenance, having fought with him for many years. Glorfindel himself found it a challenge, and while watching the young prince for any signs of Thranduil’s or Laurerána’s concern, he found he enjoyed going one on one with the younger elf. While weaker with the sword, Legolas was nearly unsurpassed when wielding his twin knives, and quite acrobatic in his skills. He also battled with an almost desperate ferocity, wild and seemingly unbound by rules governing polite battlefield games. The constant combat against orcs and great spiders within the depths of Mirkwood had obviously honed his skills well.

And it appeared he was even more keen with the bow. With a rhythmic grace Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver, notched it, effortlessly pulled the bowstring back until it nearly touched one delicately pointed ear, then let it fly it with a sharp sound of release. The arrow flew straight and true, hitting the center of a distant target already packed with its companions. By the time the arrow struck, another was already notched and ready to fly.

Glorfindel turned his eye from the rapidly filling target and back to the archer, admiring his solid yet relaxed stance and his easy form as he released arrow after arrow. Only a slight stiffness to his movements caught his eye; barely perceptible to one accustomed to noticing such things. The archer’s long, golden hair was tied back in an intricate plait that fell down his back to end just shy of his slim hips. Glorfindel smiled. The sometimes haughty elf could actually be considered quite comely. It was the shifting eyes and moods that unnerved others, causing them to look away before getting a full view of the blonde prince. That and his withdrawn demeanor. He couldn’t help but imagine what this young elf would look like divested of the dark shirt and tunic he always wore, to watch the exposed muscles rhythmically flex and release each time the bow was drawn. Yet even when the other warriors dropped their tunics from the heat, this elf never did so, remaining fully clothed at all times. It was just another oddity that surrounded this mysterious prince of Mirkwood.

*Perhaps he’s just extremely shy,* Glorfindel thought as he took a step forward. The young prince seemed oblivious to his surroundings, his entire focus centered on the target, yet Glorfindel suspected that wasn’t so, and that Legolas indeed realized someone was standing nearby, watching. A warrior’s instinct perhaps. Although he made no discernable sound as he walked, Glorfindel could see the archer tense slightly, even though the arrows continued to fly.

“You have a fine hand with the bow,” Glorfindel commented idly. He was watching Legolas’ face when he spoke, so he noticed his dark eyes grow slightly unfocused before lightening to a brighter shade of blue. He once again noted this strange reaction curiously. The cold, empty gaze had been replaced with a familiar one of uncertainty. Legolas turned his head to look directly at Glorfindel before casting a quick glance back, a slight look of confusion crossing his features upon sighting the arrows as if uncertain how they got there.

“Thank you,” he replied softly, then turned to gather his weapons together.

Glorfindel stayed alongside him as he walked to the target to retrieve his arrows. He noted the tension in the young elf’s limbs, and could tell he was nervous about something.

“Many of us are going for a swim. You are welcome to join us.” Glorfindel continued to watch the blue eyes, attempting to read the various expressions he found there. He had a strange hunch that the key to this mysterious elf lay within those ever-shifting orbs.

Legolas shook his head. “No.” Then he cautiously bent to pull the arrows free from the target.

“Elladan and Elrohir will be coming as well,” he said, thinking the presence of younger elves might help overcome his recalcitrance. He knew the twins had been trying to befriend the prince since he had arrived, without much obvious success. He seemed very adept at keeping everyone at bay. “And some of your Mirkwood companions will most likely be there. I am certain Laurerána will come.”

As if the mere mention of their names had conjured up their presence, the twin sons of Elrond came striding up along the open path, laughing at some joke or another. They walked barefoot, dressed in only a pair of dark breeches, their long ebony hair falling loose about their shoulders. Dark blue and yellow bruises marred their bodies from the stickball game the day before, making it easier to discern the two apart. Elladan sported a large mass on his right shoulder where the arm had nearly been dislocated during the heated play. It had been rough game indeed, despite Laurerána’s assurance that she would play it easy. Elladan had just retrieved the ball, fled to the old wooden shield that served as a base, and had begun to proclaim his victory when Laurerána swept up from behind, stealing both the ball and his breath as he was subsequently thrown to the ground. While short of stature, she knew how to throw her weight for maximum impact, and needless to say her team won that round. Yet the rout and the injuries hadn’t dampened the twin’s spirits, and they were determined to play again when all had fully recovered.

Upon sighting Glorfindel, the twins turned towards where the seneschal stood waiting beside the target. He watched the brothers’ approach with an easy grin, and then turned back towards Legolas. The prince kept at his task of removing the arrows, occasionally casting furtive glances back at the advancing elves. Again Glorfindel wondered at this odd reluctance he showed at times when confronted by his fellows, a reluctance which at times almost seemed to border on dread.

“Glorfindel!” Elladan called cheerfully, glad to see both elves together. He was still hoping to draw the reluctant prince away from his usual solitude. “Legolas! Are you both coming?”

“In a moment.”

“No!”

The words were spoken in the same instant, and Legolas straightened up, quickly thrusting the last arrow into the now full quiver.

“I do NOT wish to swim.” The soft voice now held a hint of anger, and his eyes bored into the elder elf, attempting to convey his adamance. He did not want to go swimming in a river with other elves. Why couldn’t they just leave him be?

So intent was he in staring at the taller elf, he did not notice the twins moving until Elrohir swept an arm over his shoulders in a friendly gesture. The reaction was instantaneous.

In a move too fast to counter Legolas pulled a single arrow from his quiver. He spun out of the unwanted embrace while simultaneously shoving the startled elf back against the target, the arrow’s tip resting dangerously against Elrohir’s throat. The others were too shocked to react in time, and held their places once the threat was perceived.

“Do not touch us!” The voice was a hoarse whisper, dangerous and low. The grey eyes of the elf before him were too shocked to register fear, although his brother felt the rush of apprehension all too clearly. Elladan wanted to charge to his twin’s aid, but was afraid to step closer for fear it might push the unstable elf further. He looked to Glorfindel for help, to which the elder gestured with his head to back away slowly.

“Legolas,” he said softly. “Let Elrohir go. He won’t touch you again.” He watched the eyes, noting they had shifted to their former dark midnight blue, filled with anger and alarm. Then they shifted back once again as he saw his words register. Lighter blue eyes turned upwards to look into those filled with concern, and the prince stepped away, the sharp arrow point dropping to his side. Elrohir straightened, grimacing a little as he rubbed his throat in relief, then forced a smile. He wasn’t about to let this incident daunt him.

“That was quite a move–“ He began, impressed by the speed of the Mirkwood prince despite the danger he had been in.

“Elrohir!” Elladan whispered harshly, still fighting the last bit of fear over the attack on his brother.

Elrohir looked over at Elladan, his gaze one of careless indifference, although inside he admitted to feeling a bit shaken. It wasn’t everyday he was suddenly accosted at arrowpoint. “What?”

Glorfindel ignored them for the moment, his gaze still focused upon the prince’s eyes. He had caught the odd reference to ‘us’ in Legolas’ warning, and didn’t think it pertained to a royal ‘we’. It was strange, but it almost seemed as if momentarily someone else was looking out of the elf’s eyes. Now those eyes seemed once again empty, devoid of any emotion or life. This was almost scarier than the glimpse of rage he saw earlier.

“Legolas?” He asked gently, trying to garner some response. Yet the prince now ignored him, his gaze drawn to something behind the tall Elda. It was then he saw a flash of emotion as the eyes widened slightly, but again it wasn’t what he was expecting. Fear, fury, and a panic similar to that of a mouse cornered by a large cat. Confused, Glorfindel turned his head to see what had caused that look, and noticed Master Saeldis walking purposefully down one of the side paths, most likely out on some errand or another. When he turned back, Legolas was quickly striding away from them, headed in the opposite direction as whatever his former tutor’s destination.

The three elves watched the Mirkwood prince depart until he disappeared through the trees.

“What was that all about?” Elrohir asked, his easy smile gone.

“He is crazy,” Elladan commented sharply. “I overheard one of the other elves say he may be possessed.” The attack had been to close for his mind to be at ease. That his brother didn’t seem to care only bothered him further.

Glorfindel jerked his head about at that. “Possessed?” That rumor was new to him.

Elladan shrugged, the bruises pulling painfully, then had the grace to looked slightly abashed. “Only when he fights, they say. It certainly looks as if something else takes over.”

“I have seen it too, and not only on the practice field,” Elrohir commented thoughtfully. “The way his mood shifts so dramatically. Sometimes it looks as if even his features change a bit.”

Glorfindel frowned. He had noticed this as well, but had been unable to find a plausible answer. He didn’t like the idea of spiritual possession, but he had to admit, it was a possibility.

“Let us go,” Elladan said, now more than ready for a relaxing swim to ease his mind and body. The other two nodded in agreement, both still appearing thoughtful, and turned towards the river to join the other elves already enjoying the relief from Anor’s heat.

Review Responses:

Karen: Thank you! And aid will be coming really soon. Things should start picking up at this point.

Crookis: I know, I’m sorry. The plot twists are annoying me too. So much for the straight, easy story I’d originally planned! (grin) But that should be the last one…I think…Ravan was supposed to be the voice of reason, and he still is. But what can I say? He told me he was tired, and who can blame him? I actually have a list of motivations behind each personality, and Ravan seems to be the most complicated. Oh, wait, then there’s Oiolaire. Shoot. Uh… Not really complicated but…well…everything will be made clear at the end? Ooooh, I hate leaving people confused…

Eep: Painful, gruesome death already? Damn, and here I was thinking I haven’t yet made Saeldis evil enough… (grin)

Zed: Yeah, it does seem to be going in that direction. What can I say? I do like Glorfindel pairings. This chapter kinda clinches it, doesn’t it?
I agree though. Being a victim doesn’t give anyone the right to hurt others, but it happens every day, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, he gets his in the end.

Linauri: I don’t know…I found some little grammatical errors before I posted this, after you pre-read it for errors… Tsk, tsk! (Of course, I finally figured out how to turn the grammar check back on (grin))

MorierBlackleaf: Thank you so much! You have no idea how much your good review means to me! Actually, you are one of my favorite LOTR writers, and I LOVE ‘Even the Odds’. Your characterizations are so well written! Well, anyways, I suppose I should write that on your own review site. I just tend to have a hard time getting time online. So thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy this strange story I’m writing.