The Lost

The Lost

Chapter 8
Author: Frosty the Dairy Cow
Rated: NC-17
Codes: Elrond, Legolas, Aragorn, Haldir, Galadriel, OC, AU, N/C
Summary: After the defeat of Sauron, Elves and Men go to war. The reason, though, is not so clear. Contains real plot.
Notes: Elvish translations are at the end of each chapter.
Disclaimer: LOTR is not mine. Bleh.

A big THANK YOU to those who are reviewing. It makes me really, really happy! :D


*

Anólindë paced in her home, glancing out the wet window as she passed it. Unable to sleep, she had gone for a short walk before the rain began to fall. She kept waiting for someone, whether it be Legolas or Elrond, to come see her. She needed to know what was happening.

It was nearly mid-morning before there was a shuffling at the door. She stopped, her heart pounding in her chest, as the entry opened to reveal a soaked Elrond.

"Where have you been?" she asked, frowning as he pulled his cloak off and wrung out the water. "I've been worried."

He glanced up at her but continued disrobing. "There was something that needed to be done," he said, "Haldir returned early with the prisoners."

"He did?" Anólindë only then realized she was not supposed to have known about the men. Tension knotted her stomach. "What's going to happen to them?"

Elrond pulled on a warm set of clothes and went to the bathroom to dry his hair. His voice echoed out of the room. "They will be interrogated until they no longer have use."

Anólindë clasped her hands and sat down on the bed. When he exited the bathroom he quickly made his way under the sheets. "You're going to sleep?" she asked, her brows knit. She somehow wondered how he could think of finding rest at a time like this.

"It has been a long day," he replied, laying his head down. His clear eyes narrowed at her. "Why are you still up?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I am too nervous to sleep."

"There is no need to be," he said lowly, fidgeting in the bed until he was comfortable. "Come. Sleep with me."

She licked her lips when he closed his eyes. "Not yet," she said quietly, looking out the window. The rain was dying down. When she glanced back at Elrond, he was already asleep.

Galadriel's words echoed in her head as she watched her lover. It was times like this she fully remembered why she cared so much for him. The lines on his face, though, showed clearly the wear of time upon him. Part of her wanted nothing more than to climb beside him, lay down and fall into darkness and never return. Sighing and closing her weary eyes, she knew that would only put-off the inevitable, not dispose of it.

Anólindë took a deep breath and stood up, pulling a dry tunic over her shoulders. As she lifted the hood she cast a glance at Elrond one last time before stepping out of the house.

The air was fresh and clean as the early morning drizzle softened the world around her. It was still dark, and the forest was empty, as it always seemed to be. She nervously clenched her hands around the cloak, holding it tight to her body as she headed towards the prison. Elrond would never forgive her if he knew she was doing this without his permission. She wondered if Legolas had gotten a chance to speak with the King of Gondor.

The stairs were slippery as she bit her lip and made her way down into the hole. There was no hesitation, for she knew not how long she had. Lanterns flickered against the walls, making Anólindë squint in the weak light. When her eyes adjusted, she saw a row of cells, and very few men.

Somehow she thought there would be more of them.

They all looked up when she approached the bars. None had hatred in their eyes. Instead, she saw curiousity.

"Which one of you is Isildur's heir?" she asked, clasping her hands in front of her. She made sure to stand tall and appear strong. In truth, she was quite frightened.

Her hands tensed when one of the men rose up. His sharp blue eyes held tight on her gaze. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he said, raising his chin. He blinked softly at her, then approached slowly. "You are?"

Licking her lips, she wondered if she should give him her name. If he spoke of her visit to Elrond, things could turn out badly. "I would prefer not to give my name," she said, "Not yet."

He nodded, keeping his eyes trained on hers. Anólindë knew he had been raised by elves, and indeed he had the quality of one. He watched her closely, ever perceptive of her movements. He was trying to read her.

"You are here for a reason," he said, narrowing his eyes, "Will you tell me what it is?"

"Has Legolas spoken to you?" When he pursed his lips and looked downward, she continued, "I am here for the same reason he was."

Aragorn smiled softly. "Legolas was here to manipulate me," he said, "It saddens me to know that you will try the same."

She shook her head. "He was not trying to manipulate you. Legolas and I worry for our kind. We worry for all of Arda." She paused as he leaned against the bars, looking off to one of the guards. "You are an acquaintence of Lady Galadriel?"

His bright eyes slid to hers as he frowned. "I have met the Lady."

"She is not well. Does it pain you to hear that?"

Aragorn's eyes traveled up and down her form. He seemed not entirely sure of her intent. "Many are not well," he replied, avoiding the question.

Taking a deep breath, Anólindë spoke of what Galadriel had told her. "She foresaw your arrival, King Aragorn. She warned Legolas and I of the darkness that will sweep these lands if we do not stop it. I do not believe she was speaking of men, but of another power." His eyes studied her cautiously as she continued, "The Lady told us much would be learned when you arrive. Knowledge of the past and present. Sen auth on alman ha thio."

He regarded her seriously for short moments before breaking into a grin. "You work well with words, my lady. Tell me, though, why should I trust you? Elves have proven themselves nothing short of treacherous."

Her eyes turned sad as she averted them to the ground. He was right. There really was no reason for him to trust her. "I have not an answer for you," she replied softly, "I have only a wish for the pain to end."

"That wish is universal," he replied, "It does not mean we can trust one another."

Anólindë stepped close to the bars of the cell. His eyes turned wary, for she was within reach of his hands and both knew it well. "I am trusting you not to hurt me now," she said, her eyes nervous, "May this step be the beginning of a partnership."

Her eyes remained steady on his, though she could see his hands clench at the bars. So easily he could reach through and grab her, even kill her. When he slowly reached through the bars, she wavered in her strength. Suddenly her legs felt weak. She swallowed heavily as Aragorn's hand brushed back the hood of her cloak, lowering it from her head.

"What is your name?" he asked, his eyes roaming over her now unshadowed face and hair.

She released a breath when Aragorn's hand settled back on the bars. Thinking, she decided she had no choice but to answer him. "Anólindë. I come to you without the permission of many of my kind. They know not what the Lady has said, nor would some care to hear it. I want peace for my kindred, whether they would accept it or not. It will be a fight, but it is one I am willing to die for. I am tired. I'm sure you are as well."

His eyes lowered sadly. A soft laugh escaped his lips. "I do not know what you expect from me or my kind, Lady Elf," he said, looking up, "My kindred are just as wary as yours are."

"The worlds of Elves and Men are tied together. Would your people not wish for peace if possible?"

He laughed again, rubbing his thumb along the bars. "Aye, they would have peace if possible. The problem lies in forgiveness. The realm of Gondor will forever remember what the Elves have done."

Anólindë frowned. She knew not of what he spoke. It was her understand, as it was with all elves, that it was men who struck first. They took the Grey Haves from her kind. That is why they went to war.

She shook her head as her brows knit. "What we have done?" she asked, placing her hand on the cold bars of the cell, "I do not know of what you speak."

He seemed hesitant, then, as though his momentary trust faded. "It seems to be elves possess a very selective memory," he said, "Or have you elders failed to tell you the truth?"

Anólindë did not know what to think. She wasn't sure if she could trust him. "Will you not tell me?" she asked, hoping he would give her an explanation, no matter what it was.

He took a deep breath and gazed at the stairs. Daylight was trickling down the flight. "Never in all my years would I have believed elves capable of such dishonesty and violence," he saiovinoving his gaze to Anólindë's dark eyes. She could see he was telling her what he knew to be true. "It took seeing with my own eyes to realize the truth."

"What truth?" His eyes turned distant. She couldn't understand why he had such difficulting informing her of the events he was sure elves had set into motion.

His eyelashes fluttered against his skin as she gazed at the floor. "Arwen did not believe it true. I tried to make her understand, but she would not stand on the side of men and against her own kind. Her death is on my hands, for I could not convince her of their evil." He looked up at Anólindë, his eyes flashing. "It took long years for me to harden myself against my former family, but I did it. I can see that it had only been a matter of time before war separated our two races."

Anólindë bit her lip and looked towards the stairs. She could hear the birds of the morning. The sun illuminated the wooden planks, and she knew she had to leave. If Elrond did not show up soon, someone would.

"I still do not understand," she said, grasping at the bars of the cell, "You are being purposely cryptic."

Aragorn smiled softly. "Such things a young elf such as yourself need not know," he replied, "The burden you can do without."

She shook her head, then stopped, tilting her head towards the opening to the prison. She could hear footsteps approach. Jerking her eyes to Aragorn, she could see he also heard someone coming. "It is too late to leave," he said, frowning, "Whoever it is will see you."

Taking a deep breath, Anólindë stepped away from the bars and waited for the visitor's arrival. Her hands tensed in expectation of Elrond.

Light feet started down the stairs. Her brows knit when no cloak was visible flowing around the elf's legs. Closing her eyes when he came into view, she exhaled roughly and relaxed.

"Anólindë?" said Legolas, coming up to her. He glanced suspiciously at Aragorn. "Are you well? Why are you here?"

"She came to convince me that your previous intentions were honest," said Aragorn, "Tell me, why the urge for sudden peace?"

Smiling, Anólindë assured Legolas she was alright. "I needed to do something. I could not just sit at home and watch Elrond sleep."

Narrowing his eyes, Aragorn quickly ightightened. His eyes became inquisitive and very apprehensive. "You are Elrond's lover?" When Anólindë lowered her eyes, he took a step back in his cell. "Had I known this, I would have told you to leave immediately."

"I am not a spy for Elrond," she replied, knitting her brows.

He shook his head, looking from her to Legolas. "I am quite sure you are not, but if you are indeed looking for peace behind Elrond's back, you are putting your life at risk."

"Elrond is no murderer," she frowned, wondering why he would speak so badly of his former caretaker.

"You know not what Elrond is," he said strongly, "He will not accept peace under any circumstances, I can assure you of that. If he finds out you were speaking with me, not only will my life be forfeit, but yours as well."

"Why do you say this?" asked Legolas, stepping towards the cell. Anólindë could see he was angry.

Aragorn's eyes hardened under Legolas' glare. "Your Lord has not been honest with you. He does not interrogate us, as he says he does. His mind is set on torture, and nothing more. To him, I am the enemy of his people and his family, and he blames Arwen's death on my hand. Elrond's only reason for our capture is to make sure I die for the sins he imagines I committed."

"You are saying Elrond brought you here for vengeance? That is impossible to believe." Legolas balled his fists, stepping closer to the bars. Anólindë touched his arms, causing him to back down slightly.

The King's gaze turned down to Anólindë. Softness invaded his expression as he spoke. "You wanted to know the reason I allowed my men to take over your Havens. I wiell ell you. The Lord of Rivendell, my former father, is responsible for the murders of dozens of my people. He is not who you believe him to be. It is he who is to blame for this war we fight."

*

TBC

Elf-Talk:

Sen auth on alman ha thio. - This war is not what it seems.