Prelude

Mirkwood had once been called Greenwood the Great, for at sometime it had been the greatest of all the forests of Middle Earth, all of Arda even. The trees were wide, and their branches spread far, high above, to form a huge canopy. One could feel very small in Greenwood, and even smaller in Mirkwood; for the trees had grown into dark presences, havens were dark creatures lay in wait. Spiders had nearly taken over half the wood, save the areas guarded by the wood elves. The palace, where the elves resided, was a safe place, a sanctuary whose doors were often closed to travelers who were not elves or elf-friends.

Yet deep within the caverns, where even the daylight was as dark as a shadow, and the shadows pitch-black, Fear slept. These were the natural caves that had formed beneath the surface millions of years before, when the Valar had sculpted the landscape, and now something over a millennium old was awakening. Even the oldest and wisest of the elves, the immortals who walked Middle Earth, had forgotten the evil that was rousing in the depths of Mirkwood, concealed in the subterranean gloom beneath the earth.

Eyes -- dark, glittering jade orbs -- opened quickly and closed again as dirt tumbled into them. Claw-like hands with long nails reached up through the soft earth, pushing it aside as it drew itself up. Then the figure, male in appearance though exceedingly thin, emerged from the cavern’s soft, earthy floor in a shower of dust and small stones, stretching emaciated limbs enclosed in grey skin. He then gave a great yawn, opening his mouth to reveal two rows of pearly white teeth, the canines sharpened to fangs.

'At last.�EHe thought, to himself, carefully examining the sleek, bat-like wings that rested on his back. They were free of the wounds that had marked them so long before, healed by time and rest. ‘At last I am awake again...�E

A rough laugh issued from cracked lips, his head tilted forwards so that grimy red hair cascaded before his face as the laugh rose in pitch. Soon he threw his head back and gave a gleeful cackle, the tone rising to manic level. Near the mouth of the cavern Mirkwood’s giant spiders fled in fear, tripping over their long legs.

To be continued...

Chapter I: Delay in the Old Woods

Beneath the interlacing branches of tall, dark trees passed four figures on horse-back in the misty dusk, their breaths coming in puffs of smoke in front of them. Though the deciduous trees were all bare, the evergreens above gave some protection against the lazily falling snow. It was the dead of winter, and bitterly cold, especially at night. They had intended to be in the Mirkwood palace before nightfall, but as it looked now they would need to ride throughout the night, despite the dangers of the old wood. It was, after all, even more dangerous to halt for the night in times like these. Legolas, the blonde wood elf native to the forest, and the crowned Prince of the kingdom, gave a sigh, for he knew that they would easily loose their way in this fog, but his companions seemed to be disregarding his warnings.

These warnings were well founded, for someone watched them from the shadows, unable to see them but fully aware of their presence for they were near him. So near that he could nearly smell their blood; he could feel the steady pulse of their hearts, beating wildly, with blood so like his own, yet very much different. He listened to it gushing through their veins and licked his lips, thinking about how thirsty he was... so very thirsty for fresh blood. After feeding on spider blood for the last month, he was so thirsty for something more substantial. Three were immortal elves, he could tell, and the other a young mortal man, for his heart was different... it beat faster, and less regularly, but with greater strength and passion when compared to the elves’ efficient indifference. Hissing, he drew closer to get a better look at the blonde elf. Was that the elf that he thought it was? It could not be... but perhaps one of his descendants.

“Elladan, just try to keep up!” Estel, the young human, cried as he gave his foster brother’s horse a swift slap on her hindquarters. She whinnied and jolted forward, breaking into a gallop with Elladan clinging to her back. Estel was laughing as he spurred his stallion on, matching Elladan’s speed along the pathway. Elrohir, the identical twin to Elladan, turned to Legolas with a look of helplessness before he too spurred his mare to match their pace. Legolas growled in frustration, and tried to catch up the fleeing sons of Elrond. Estel was in the lead, his horse kicking up snow and exhaling huge bursts of steam. Soon, the path grew narrow, and Elladan and Elrohir were riding next to one another, but if they did not break apart soon, they would strike a tree.

Elrohir quickly pulled his reins to the left, slipping between the thick trunks. “Stop!” he commanded his mare in elvish, but to no avail, for something seemed to have spooked his normally well-mannered mount. “Stop, I said, stop!” He continued, his voice edged with panic as they continued to run through the dense shrubbery. Elrohir clutched the reins tighter, his knuckles turning white, and drew himself nearer to his mare’s warm body so that he would not strike his head on low branches. Eventually she drew to a halt, and he slid off, staring as she pawed the ground with one hoof and snorted, her nostrils flaring. She was still uncomfortable, but no longer in a complete panic. Idly stroking her frothy coat, Elrohir wondered what could have frightened her so. His answer spoke to him.

“Help me!” Cried an elvish voice, small and child-like. Elrohir turned to see a little elven girl in a tattered dress, barely enough for the snowy weather, standing a short ways away from him in a patch of moonlight that broke through the branches. Her face was ashen, and her wide blue eyes streaming with tears.

“What is amiss, little one?” Elrohir asked, approaching the girl openly after tying his mare to a nearby tree.

“I am lost!” She cried, allowing Elrohir to wrap his cloak about her.

“All is well,” He soothed, rubbing her back, “you are from the city in these woods?”

She sniffed and nodded, wiping her eyes on his cloak.

“My companions and I are headed there; we shall take you home.” He gently clasped her small hand, “I am Elrohir, what is your name?”

“Aini.”

Elrohir found it most curious that she was so far out alone, and asked her, “Are you alone, Aini?”

The girl shook her head, hiccupping softly, “My brother is still in the cave. He was attacked by spiders... can you save him?”

“Where is he?”

She grasped Elrohir’s hand tightly, and led him to a place where a cave mouth yawned open, pointing one finger towards it, “In there.”

His expression turned grim; Elrohir knew that there was little chance of the girl’s brother living still, but perhaps if she was still alive, then so was he. “What is your brother's name?”

“Aiden.”

“Thank you. Now, wait out here.” He instructed, releasing her hand and unsheathing his long sword. Then he ventured forth into the foreboding darkness. The air smelt of spider webs, mildew and dust and he waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust before peering around. But still the shadows held fast, and the cavern remained veiled to his sight.

“Aiden!” Elrohir called, cautiously taking a few more steps into the inky blackness, “Aiden, are you here?”

Do you live?’ Elrohir mentally added.

A sudden sound, somewhere between a hiss and a growl sounded behind Elrohir and suddenly something landed on his back. It's limbs held fast as he struggled, twisting and turning in an attempt to dislodge the attacker, the cavern too dark for him to make out its form. It was light, but very strong, and very agile, for as much as Elrohir desperately tried to reach it, it kept moving about.

At some point he managed to get his sword behind himself and stab at the attacker, only achieving one solid hit which then earned him a sharp pain in his neck; a bite, he realized.

Elrohir gasped, his equilibrium thrown off with the added weight and pain. He toppled, face-first, towards the ground, the attacker still clinging to his back. Slowly Elrohir felt himself grow dizzy, his senses melting into vague, hazy messages. His limbs ceased to work, growing numb and freezing. Then he knew that he could not remain conscious for much longer; the shadows pulling at his mind grew too strong and at last Elrohir sank into the welcoming oblivion.

To be continued..

Chapter II: The City beneath the Trees

It had taken Legolas, Estel and Elladan a moment to realize that they were missing Elrohir, but when Estel and Elladan noticed that he had fallen behind, they paused and turned about, Elladan leading worriedly.

Legolas had not seen them, so they went back to where Elladan saw him stray from the path and followed the trail of broken branches and disturbed snow through the thick woods. There, where the path ended abruptly, Elrohir's mare was tied to a tree, pawing the ground frantically. The blonde elf immediately dismounted and tried to calm her, whispering words into the velvety white ears until she calmed.

"Where is Elrohir?" Legolas asked her, gently untying her from the tree. She moved towards a dark gap in the trees, and then whinnied once, tossing her head.

"Your master thanks you." Legolas told her, rushing after Elladan and Estel who had already dismounted passed through the dark opening, too small for a horse.

"Elrohir!" Legolas heard Elladan cry out, before he even reached the spot where he was leaning over his unconscious twin. When he came upon them, he gave a gasp; Elrohir lay in the snow, blood pooling about his dark hair, staining the snow bright red. His eyes were closed, which was nearly as alarming as the blood, and his skin was pallid. Immediately Elladan fell to his knees over his brother and tilted his head sideways to listen for breath. Estel felt for a pulse, and both sighed in relief when the fluttering of a pulse beneath his fingers proved Elrohir to be alive.

Elladan found the mark on Elrohir's neck, where the blood was coming from. Two tiny puncture wounds were there, swollen and red, and the blood was still oozing out, although it seemed to be slowing. As soon as Legolas saw the wound, he felt a sense of relief pass over him.

"'Tis but a spider bite, nothing serious." Legolas explained, "I have seen many. He probably saw something and went to investigate, and was then bitten."

Falling forth on his knees into the soft snow, Elladan closed his eyes, recovering from the sudden panic at the thought of loosing his other half, but he could not feel settled just yet. "How long 'til he wakes?"

Legolas shrugged, "That depends upon how much venom he received."

"The wound seems deep, for a spider bite." Estel observed, although he had seen few of the sort.

"It is a bit more than usual," Legolas said, taking a closer look, "and look how much blood there is! That is most abnormal. They do not often bleed."

"But do not worry," Legolas reassured at Elladan's alarmed expression, "it may have been a queen."]

"A queen?" Estel asked.

"A large female, usually has a nest."

"Do you think she is still near?" Estel asked, standing up to look about the area.

"Not too near... but she will return with her brood to feed shortly, so we must move him." 

"How long will he remain thus?" Elladan persisted, lifting his brother into his arms easily.

Legolas became thoughtful for a moment, his brow creasing before he admitted, "Three or four days... but I have seen it last for a week."

Elladan was not certain that he could endure a week with Elrohir in his current state, but he nodded stoically and clutched him tighter to his breast, "Your father will be glad to see us, I am sure."

"Thranduil glad to see US?" Estel asked with a grin, a touch of mirth colouring his tone, "I think that these woods would be safer if he remembers our last visit."

Legolas laughed loudly, and started to head back towards the horses, followed by Elladan, bearing Elrohir and Estel. They mounted and set out into the dark woods once more, cutting through the mists as quickly as they could, for the sooner they could get Elrohir someplace warm, the sooner he would recover from the venom. Elladan noticed that his skin was disturbingly chill, a result no doubt, from lying in the snow as he had been. Still, something nagged at him, for Elrohir had not been in the snow very long.

For the people of Mirkwood, the elven city carved into a mountainside, their prince's homecomings were normally quite dramatic and he often brought with him foreign beings. So, seeing him come home with two Noldor elves, one of which was wounded, and a human, was a relatively unconsequental. A few heads were turned, carefully observing Estel, and one was heard to say, "Are those not Elrond's sons?" but they made it to the palace without being confronted, which was a blessing because none had the energy nor patience to explain their story. They had ridden hard all night, and most of the day before they arrived in the city's innermost circle. It was now getting dusky again, and the snow had just begun to fall. Immediately Elrohir was brought to the healer's chambers, and she was awoken from an afternoon daydream to attend to him.

"All is well. It seems to be just a spider bite." Celvandil, the healer announced once she had finished examining Elrohir.

"You are sure?" Elladan asked, anxiously.

"Yes, I am quite sure." She reassured, snatching a bottle of clear, blue-tinted liquid from one of the high shelves lining the room. "What else could it be?"

"What is that?"

"Anti-venom. He will heal quicker once I administer this."

"When will he wake?" Elladan wanted to know. Estel smirked to himself, amused at how protective Elladan was being.

"No later than tomorrow night with this." Celvandil said, pouring a small, measured amount of the blue potion into Elrohir's mouth and then rubbing his pale throat to induce swallowing.

"He will awake then for certain?" Elladan ventured.

"Yes, for certain." She said, exasperated, one hand resting on Elrohir's forehead. Even after being indoors for sometime, the chill had yet to be expelled from his body. This was not normal, Celvandil knew, but she bit her tongue for Elladan's sake.

"How fares Elladan?" A loud, imposing voice asked.

"I am well," Elladan looked to the door to see Mirkwood's king enter the room, followed by his son. "'Tis Elrohir who was bitten."

Thranduil was an elf of great physical similarity to Legolas, though he held himself with greater decorum, dressed in gold-trimmed clothing with a thick, ornamented circlet always about his golden head.

"He will be well by tomorrow's eve my lord." Celvandil supplied, bowing to her king and prince.

"Very well then." He ushered the healer from the room and shut the wooden door, his expression suddenly grim. Legolas' face mirrored his, pinched with uneasiness.

"I am glad that you are here now." Thranduil said, fixing his gaze on Estel and then Elladan, "We bring ill tidings."

Legolas sighed, "There always seem to be ill tidings from this place..."

"We do what we can, my son." Thranduil said, putting one hand on Legolas' shoulder and squeezing it.

"My father has informed me that there have been several perplexing disappearances this past winter." Legolas started.

"Seven in total, including a child." Thranduil said, his tone distraught; children were rarities in Mirkwood, for elves preferred to have their children in times of peace, and the loss of one was felt by the entire population, "All took place in the forest, yet besides that they seem entirely unrelated. We think that it may be spiders, but then their numbers are growing quickly, and we are still killing just as many as before. If this was spiders, they are getting better at hiding."

Legolas shook his head, "It is bizarre."

Thranduil agreed, but then added, "There is naught we can do, but it is heartening to have my son home safe."

Estel chose that moment to give a great yawn, earning a smile from all, even the king.

"I do believe," Legolas ventured, "that it is about time you took some rest."

"All of you." Thranduil said, noting the weariness in Legolas' features. "You have been travelling for long nights."

They nodded, and Estel left with Legolas to his usual room in the palace.

Thranduil paused at the door, looking to Elladan who had seated himself next to Elrohir, "Will you not rest, son of Elrond?"

Elladan shook his head, "Not just yet."

"The room next to this one is prepared for you."

"I thank your majesty for your hospitality... despite previous incidents."

Grinning, Thranduil closed the door, "Do not venture think that I have forgotten, son of Elrond; my vengeance is simply delayed."

Back in the forest, if they had looked closer, they would have noticed the broken snow about Elrohir's bloody imprint in the snow that led to a cave entrance, shrouded in dark branches. From inside the cave He had watched them leave. A tongue darted out to lick pink-stained fangs.

"Thranduil," He had hissed, "Thranduil, son of Oropher. So this is his son..."

To be continued...

Underneath my skin

Eyes are looking in

For something within

Somewhere in here

Finger Eleven -- ‘Good Times’

Chapter III: Dreams and Discussions

A fog lifted, Elrohir's clouded mind slowly opening, allowing the dulled voices about him to make themselves known. He found himself standing to one side in Mirkwood's large hall and throne room, although it was considerably... different from how he'd remembered it. The pillars that reached the ceiling were bare, unmarked stone; they were painted with battle depictions last he had seen them. And the irreplaceable white Valinorian vase he and Elladan had shattered on their last visit was still in one piece, resting cool and impassive near him. The floor was uncracked, and the room very well lit by torches and lanterns. It was as if all marks of age had been erased from the hall.

Narrowing his eyes, Elrohir looked closely at the figures in the room who seemed to be discussing something important. One stood on the royal platform; he greatly resembled Thranduil, and at first Elrohir thought it was he. But upon closer inspection it was obviously not he, for his forehead wasn't as wide. Although the same circlet that Thranduil always wore within the palace rested on his head.

"Aidan," the elf-lord said, his voice harsh and regale, "You have been accused of serving the Dark Lord. Do you deny this accusation?"

The other elf stuttered, his green eyes turned dejectedly upwards.

"Should I take your silence as an affirmative?"

"I cannot deny what I have done, but I beg of you, my liege, give me a moment to explain--"

"I apologise." The elf-lord said quietly, sadly, but with an inner core of hardest steel, "You have served me loyally for many long years, but with the evidence and accusations against you, it would not be just to serve you any less than exile. It would not be just to the people."

"You will regret this Oropher, mark my words..." the elf hissed, stalking from the hall in a huff, his red hair streaming behind him.

'Aidan...' Elrohir thought, 'The lost boy... his name was Aiden...'

It was an all too familiar scene when Legolas ventured into the room where Elrohir was staying; Elladan, though he had intended to sleep in his own, had fallen asleep in Elrohir's room, head on his bed. Elrohir seemed to be sleeping still, his eyes closed tightly and his brow knit with a nightmare.

Legolas cleared his throat, looking at Elladan who lifted his head with a groan, his eyes unclouding from their elven sleep. "Mornin'." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck for it was sore with the position he'd been in. Then he smoothed Elrohir's hair from his face, frowning at his expression, which could only mean a nightmare.

"You should have retired to your own chamber, Elladan."

"I was tired." He shook his head, with a gesture that Legolas knew meant that he should push no more. "Where is Estel?"

"Still asleep I do believe. Humans seem to do a lot of that."

Elladan laughed, "Yes, ada has said that he needs at least eight hours a night, and he tends to sleep even longer if he misses a night."

Legolas nodded, knowing this very well, "Why do you not go and fetch yourself some breakfast."

Elladan nodded, thankful for the suggestion after missing supper the day before. His stormy gaze rested on Elrohir for a moment, standing in the doorway, and then to Legolas who eased him with a reassuring smile and a light touch on Elrohir’s brow.

The prince sat with Elrohir for a few hours, simply relaxing with a book, and later on with Estel when he awoke. Then Thranduil called a gathering with the three travellers and the Captains of the Mirkwood Guard to discuss the disappearances that had been haunting the woods.

They spoke about the numbers of missing elves, the total having risen to eight over the night when another went missing. It seemed so sudden.

"He vanished on the same path we returned on." Legolas pointed out.

"Perhaps he was taken by the same spider as Elrohir?"

One of the captains nodded, "If she did not take your friend, she was certainly hungry."

Elladan felt a pang of guilt; it seemed selfish for him to have his brother alive and relatively well when another elf had been taken in his stead. But it was no matter he could dwell on, for fate will do as fate will. It was fate that had let them find Elrohir, and she must have been smiling upon them for that occurrence. Besides, there were more important issues at hand. Like who or what exactly was behind the disappearances.

Most of the assembly present seemed to be inclined towards the idea of spiders, but Estel was not certain. There was a strange, nagging sensation at the back of his mind. Spiders seemed too... obvious of an enemy, as if these disappearances all had something to do with each other. No trace of a struggle had been found anywhere, and there were no drained corpses or even webbing, as was typical of spider victims. It just did not fall into place.

After the meeting had adjourned Estel slipped into the room Elrohir was in, while Legolas and Elladan went to speak with the victims' families. Celvandil was in the room already, leaning over Elrohir.

"Has he awoken yet?" Estel asked, rushing to the opposite bedside.

"I think he is coming to..."

Grey eyes, the colour of the sky before a storm, slid open sluggishly, to find themselves resting on the elf and ranger hovering over him. Elrohir groaned and mumbled, "Aiden? Aini?"

"Relax," Celvandil told him, "You are in the Mirkwood Palace now."

"What happened?" Elrohir asked, sitting up quickly.

 "You were attacked and bitten by a spider." Estel told him.

"Lie down immediately, before you faint!" Celvandil cried, well aware that those who had been bitten by spiders had a tendency to become dizzy and pass out often after waking up.

"I am fine." Elrohir blinked, then asked faintly, "Where is Elladan?"

"I shall go and fetch him." Estel told him, and left the room with Celvandil reluctantly in tow. She had tended many of his and Legolas' hurts in the past, and he was familiar with her expertise in the healing arts.

Once in the corridor, he quickly asked, "Does this bite not seem strange to you?"

She nodded, "It is too deep, and he recovered so soon."

"We never did see the spider... there was no webbing either."

Celvandil chewed her lower lip, her expression perplexed, "Did you notice how icy his skin is to touch? Normally a bite like this will be hot, and often causes a fever."

"This is strange indeed then..." Estel said, "Do you think that you could see if there is any record of what this could be in the library?"

"There may be, if you are willing to spend a few hours looking through all those books." Celvandil informed him, and then sighed. "I shall help you..." 

"Thank you kind lady!" Estel said, pulling her into a quick, playful hug before rushing off down the corridor.

Everyone had been pleased with Elrohir's recovery, and commented on how quick it had been. Legolas, too, found it odd that he had woken up so soon, but accredited it to Elrohir's strength as a warrior.

By nightfall, again Legolas and Estel had left, and Elladan and Elrohir were in the same room, and a sleeping roll had been put on the floor. Despite Elrohir's insistence that he was well, they would not allow him to dine in the hall, or even leave his bed. Elrohir was hungry, but he had eaten little for he felt nauseous part way through the meal.

The winter sun had vanished, leaving the wood in it's frigid, absolute darkness, so that lamps in windows were being lit, and all of the palace was coming alive with points of light. Elladan turned to light their own lamp, his back to Elrohir in the dusk. He spoke quietly, mostly to himself, "Do you suppose ada is wondering where we are? He knows that we were on our way to Mirkwood, but we did not mention how long we would remain here for. Perhaps, come the morrow, we should send him a message..."

Feet barren of shoes rested on the floor next to Elrohir's bed as he slid off of it, dressed only in the simple leggings Elladan had stripped him down to. He started plodding towards his brother slowly, bare feet cold on the ground, and a strange, blue veil about his eyes.

Elrohir was not there; there was only a desire, a thirst for something. He could sense Elladan's life pulsing through him, the hot blood in his arteries, veins and heart, and the nearly mortal clumsiness of his movements.

"Agh, why do they not make flint easier than this?" Elladan asked, putting his burnt finger in his mouth. "First it does not light at all, and then it kindles so brightly..."

He was nearly there, nearly behind Elladan, nearly upon him, when the lamp was lit. Their shadow was cast up, the two figures, and upon the shadow of Elrohir an immense pair of black wings rested.

To be continued... 

Careful

What you're feeling

On the inside

You should try to remember

The good times and the high life

Are you feeling all right?

Finger Eleven -- `Good Times'

Chapter IV: Shadows Remembered

He was so near, so very close... he could smell the blood now, sweet and heady. Blood? Was that what he wanted? `Yes,' something whispered to his mind.

"I have brought clean clothing, linens and covers." Called a voice from the door; there stood Legolas, or at least it was his voice behind the stack of fabric he bore.

Elladan turned about, facing his brother, and within seconds, a realization struck Elrohir. What was he doing? This was Elladan! This was his brother, his twin, the other half of himself! No, Elrohir shook his head; he would not, he could not do it.

He drew back a pace, and the wings that had been in his shadow drew back into his shadow. If one could see closely, a glint of white would have been seen as his enlarged canines drew back into their normal size, though they remained sharper than they should have been.

"Elrohir! What in the Valar's name are you doing up and about?"

His face drawn and pale, Elrohir stared at Elladan blankly, looking as if he were about to tip over at any given moment. Legolas set down his load and helped Elladan guide his brother back to the bed, turning down the cover as he crawled in.

"I shall fetch you some tea, so that you can sleep." Elladan said, leaving the room for a moment to seek out the healer. He found Celvandil, eventually, in the library.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, glancing at the papers spread haphazardly about her.

"Your human friend found your brothers' symptoms to be rather strange, so he asked me to look them up."

"And what have you found?" Elladan frowned, sliding into a chair next to her.

"The bite is too deep to be a spider's... and his skin being so cold." She shook her head, "I looked into all sorts of animals, and eventually checked the old records. The only lead I can find is, well, a vampire."

"Vampires?" Elladan gave a laugh.

"It sounds foolish, I know."

"There have been none since the First Age!"

"Celvandil shook her head, sadly, "There was one."

"I have not heard of this..."

"Not many have. They have kept it under close wraps, for it would have caused quite a panic."

"Do you know any more about this?" Elladan asked, his voice growing in intensity.

"I know little more than that He was one of our own, a betrayal just before the Last Alliance. It was said to be He who had slain Oropher during the Battle, and was not seen again... most say that he was wounded and perished, but they found no remains."

"So he may have escaped..." Elladan followed. Celvandil nodded gravely.

A new voice broke into their conversation, deep and authoritative, "The shadow in the East has been growing steadily these past decades, and I fear it may have caused something in these woods to stir. Something evil to awake."

Elladan and Celvandil turned about quickly to find themselves looking at the king Thranduil, a sombre expression across his face. after those cryptic words. "He was filled with so much hatred..." Thranduil shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of an image, "I did not know Aidan well, for I was young at the time he betrayed the kingdom and was exiled. I managed to wound him, but it was too late for my father."

"So it is true then?" Elladan asked.

"Indeed. Aidan's hatred, I fear, and his... blood lust drove him mad long ago."

Elladan's grey eyes widened, "What will the bite do to `Ro?"

"He was bitten then?" Thranduil asked, raising one delicate brow.

Celvandil nodded, "That is what it would seem to be... I mean, it is not quite a spider bite, and there is nothing else it could be..."

"We have not much time then..." Thranduil said, hastening from the room in a swirl of cobalt blue and silver winter robes. They made quick time to Elrohir's room, preparing themselves for the worst, but they were certainly not prepared for what they had found.

The door was flung open by Thranduil who immediately cried out in alarm. There, framed in the lamp glow, was Elrohir, his body standing firmly with one arm reached out, stretched, and his hand wrapped about Legolas' throat. From his back sprouted a pair of glossy bat-like wings which reflected the red-orange light, making them seem to be on fire, and his eyes gleamed cerulean and silver. Legolas' feet failed to touch the ground, dangling just above it. He could not breathe; Elrohir's claw-like grasp about him was too tight!

Nails, sharp and cold, cut into his skin, and try as he might to pry away the grip, Elrohir now possessed a supernatural strength he had not had before.

Thranduil was the first to react, flinging himself onto his son's attacker and trying to pry him away. At last he managed to extract Elrohir's hands from Legolas' throat, and quickly he dragged him away. But Elrohir simply attached himself to the king's back, hissing and clawing like a wild animal, and flapping his wings wildly.

Elladan yelled out, "Stop it! Stop it!" Even as he tried to pull his brother away from Legolas. Using his own body to shield his son from harm, Thranduil dragged his unconscious form away from the rampant elf.

Celvandil screamed, noting how strong Elrohir was before she took off down the corridor to find the guard.

Estel was nearby, and came as soon as he heard the commotion. Together he and Elladan attempted to drag Elrohir off of the king, both struggling to hold him while trying not to hurt him at the same time. This proved difficult, because he thrashed about so violently.

Eventually, when Estel had grabbed one of his wings harshly, Elrohir gave a blood-chilling shriek and whirled about, flinging the two against the wall behind him. Estel's head cracked against the wall with a sickening sound, and he rolled to the ground in a heap. Now the reinforcements came, Celvandil followed by the three nearest guards she could find, all hurling themselves towards Elrohir with their weapons held outwards. He lifted his great wings, flapping them to create a substantial gust of wind that launched them backwards.

Taking this moment to slip out the door, Elrohir nearly flew down the corridor like a bat out of hell.*

Elladan saw this, and with barely a second glance at the others, he followed behind his twin, calling for him to halt.

Elrohir left the palace through the main doors, and climbed a snow-dusted evergreen near the huge stone wall to reach the woods.

From upon the top of the wall he looked down for a moment, and Elladan despaired for he could see no trace of his brother in the creature that now gazed down on him with eyes like ice. There was only animal instinct; sheer madness and broiling hate, directed towards all living things. Elrohir's expression was so spiteful that Elladan actually felt a shiver go along his spine.

Then Elrohir jumped the wall silently, using his wings to help him glide in the descent into the treetops on the other side. Cursing, Elladan clamoured in hot pursuit, racing into the frigid, perilous wood behind his twin.

To be continued...

* Please excuse the pun.

Hunting you I can smell you - alive,

Your heart pounding in my head.

Evanescence -- `Haunting'

Chapter V: Aidan's Children

A dark haired figure drew to a halt in a small clearing of trees, taking a moment to pause and regain his breath. Elladan examined his surroundings with grey-blue eyes, searching the trees for Elrohir. But neither hair nor nail could be found, and Elladan was dismayed for he had no idea where his twin could have fled.

What had happened to Elrohir? He frowned, his dark brows furrowing together in confusion. Something was wrong with Elrohir, it was as if he had been transformed, but to what? And now... and now Elladan was lost. Looking about he knew this too well; all the trees seemed the same, and he did not know where he was. The woods were freezing cold and the crisp air burned his lungs, though fortunately no snow was falling.

Elladan drew in a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, covering them with one hand and holding out the other and pointing. It was childish, he knew, but then he spun around three times, and went in the direction he was pointing. It was something he had always done when lost as a child, and if it did not work, he didn't know what would.

Something sweet drifted in the cold air. It was singing Elladan soon realized, a tragic song in elvish sung by a lilting, feminine voice. Curious, he paused to listen for the source, finding that the fog seemed to devour all sound. Then it came again, a little bit stronger, and he walked towards it, pushing aside snow- covered foliage. Bits of white fluff drifted down, sticking to his tunic and he wished that he had taken a moment to dress in something warmer.

Finally Elladan came upon the source of the singing; an elf maiden was seated upon a log, dressed in a fur-trimmed cloak. Her fair hair fell loose well past her shoulders, and her unearthly pale skin had an unnaturally strong glow, even for an elf. Elladan tiled his head, squinting... she seemed to be glowing light blue? Though he was near, she had not heard Elladan approach her until he gave a sniff and she looked up, eyes wide and startled. Then a smile of understanding spread across her visage and she stood up, touching her face in a sign of greeting.

Elladan returned the gesture, "Milady, what are you doing out of doors at this hour? The woods are not a safe place to be alone, especially at this time of night."

"Then what are you here for?" She asked.

"I am seeking someone, my brother, have you seen him pass? He is my twin... that is, he is identical to me."

Eyes narrowing for a moment, the elf maiden nodded, "I saw one as you pass. In fact, I had thought that you were he, passing by again."

"Can you direct me where he went?"

"Better yet, I shall walk with you to where he is."

"Where is he? How do you know?" Elladan asked quickly, his brotherly defensiveness rising.

"Just follow me..." She said, placing one cold finger against his lips. She was so close to him... he could feel her breath upon her face, but it was like a cold wind and did not form into steam like his did.

Their gaze held, his grey and her deepest cobalt blue. Slowly she trailed her finger from his mouth to the side of his face, caressing it seductively, "So handsome..."

Elladan found himself leaning into her touch, but then reeled back and quickly took a step away from her, alarmed, "If you will excuse me. My brother, please, bring me to him."

She pouted childishly, and then nodded, turning around and pulling the hood of her cloak about her head. Elladan followed the silvery glow for what must've been several hours. It was midnight, Elladan guessed, by the time she reached the opening to a cave. At once Elladan recognized this as the same where they had found Elrohir after the spider attack. What could this mean, he wondered, but had a feeling that he would soon find out.

A heart beat quickly, a fast, fluttering beat that he had once known so well. Elrohir was familiar with this beat as much as he was with his own, in a way it was, or had been, his own; for this, he knew was Elladan's. His own brother needed to join him -- Elladan needed to understand this power he now possessed... he needed to know the joy of flight, the sweet, metallic tang of blood, and the vivid night vision vampires possess. Elladan was his!

Elrohir took a step towards the cave entrance, licking his ruby lips, but Aidan's hand came to rest upon his chest, "My fledgling, you are still too weak to make another. This one is mine."

With a hint of jealously to his movement, Elrohir stood back.

"Stand against the far back wall, where he will see you when he comes. Pretend that you are dead. I shall use you to bring him into my grasp..."

Elrohir complied, lying on the cave's ground, while Aidan concealed himself amongst the shadows on the cave's sides.

"This way." The maiden said softly, walking into the cave. Once inside there was neither moonlight nor snow to mark their passage, and Elrohir relied mostly on her glow and his own to guide them. She sped up, and like a candle smothered by a wind, she vanished, leaving him with nothing but his own dull glow.

Elladan blinked. Where had she gone? Then he shivered -- something was not right about this cave. There was something disconcerting about it, and he could sense that he was not alone.

Before him he saw a figure lying on the ground, familiar dark hair pooled about a head that rested on the ground. The tunic was ripped in the back, where holes had been torn in it by the bat wings that had burst forth, but were now within his body. Elladan rushed to his brother's side, crying his name. Suddenly, upon him was something, claws digging into his back. He cried out and squirmed, flinging himself on top of Elrohir to defend him. Then, Elrohir rolled out from under him and stood a little ways away, looking down upon him with a malicious smirk across his almost unrecognizable features.

To be continued...

There was something calling me

To negativity

Under covering me

Shrouding every scene

I'm casting

Finger Eleven -- ‘Good Times'

Chapter VI: Memories of Darker Times

The twins had fled from the palace in a matter of moments, and though the guards pursued them, once the two had passed over the wall they were beyond their grasp. Once the initial confusion had passed several other guards rushed into the room to check on their king, who was cradling his son's head in his lap, very much glad that he was alive still. Celvandil tended to Estel promptly, dragging the young human onto a bed and checking his vital signs, at last declaring it to be no more than a mild concussion. Thranduil grinned when he heard her mutter "Careless human..." under her breath.

Legolas was alive and breathing, though his throat was bruised and starting to swell. Immediately they covered it with a bit of packed snow, hoping to ease the swelling before it blocked his windpipe.

"My liege, allow me to attend to those scratches on your arms." Celvandil said to her king, "They are inflamed."

Thranduil looked down with an expression of mild surprise, the scratches appeared as a cats after being left for a few minutes, "So they are... very well then."

While Celvandil applied a balm Thranduil mused quietly to himself, "Aidan has returned then. This is most unfortunate... I had hoped that we had seen the last of him. And if he has turned the Peredhil, one or both, into his fledglings as well..."

"Things could get very messy." Celvandil broke in, stating what Thranduil had been thinking.

 He nodded, not even realizing that he had been speaking aloud.

 "I am curious. What exactly had taken place with Aidan, all those years ago?"

"Before the war even, he had tried to betray my father, through me."

Celvandil settled onto a chair across the bed Legolas lay, leaning towards Thranduil to listen to his tale...

"Aidan, good morrow!" A young elf stood up from his seat at the empty table, touching his face in a sign of greeting, and then giving is father's close advisor and friend a firm hug.

"Good morrow my prince."

"How is the training coming along?"

"I believe that the soldiers will be ready soon."

Thranduil nodded, "That is good."

"Come, I have something I must show you... I need some approval on weaponry, and your father is busy."

"Why not ask an expert on such matters?"

"I would not disturb them with it."

"Very well." Thranduil stood up and followed Aidan out into the corridor. A few of the elves there bowed their heads to the crown prince and the king's advisor. They passed down into the passages and rooms beneath the palace, deep into the Earth to where the corridors were narrow and dank, lit with scattered torches.

Aidan opened a door to dimly lit room, and then stood back for Thranduil to pass into it, "After you my liege."

Without realizing what he was doing, Thranduil walked right into Aidan's trap, and when he entered the room the door was locked quickly and two sets of arms grabbed him from behind. One held a bit of wet fabric to his mouth, and immediately a drug filled his mouth and nose and dizziness overcame his senses. Thranduil fell, and the door opened again for Aidan to examine his capture.

Celvandil nodded when Thranduil finished his story, telling of how Aidan had tried to use him against Oropher. By the next morning, Legolas and Estel had awoken, sliding their grey and blue eyes open to find themselves in the same room still. Thranduil told them what had happened while Celvandil went to fetch them all the books and scrolls she could find that mentioned vampires. Thranduil, Legolas and Estel spent their day pouring over the books, Estel eventually falling asleep on the book he had been studying and waking up to ink imprints on his face.

Thranduil eventually left to his personal study, and then to the aerie where he attached a message to his best falcon and set her out to Lothlorien, whispering words of encouragement to her before he held out an arm to release her, "Time is of the essence. Fly!"

The falcon was soon a distant speck in the sky above the palace, and the king descended the steps again with a soft sigh. He had hoped that he would never have to deal with Aidan again, would never have to bring back those memories of his time in that horrid imprisonment.

"Before long," Aidan hissed, running a finger along the curve of Thranduil's face, "your father will come running with his army to save you."

Thranduil squirmed beneath his touch, trying his best to be strong for his kingdom's sake.

"Mirkwood will fall, little prince, and it will all be your fault."

"I beg of you to reconsider." Thranduil pleaded, "What do you have to gain from this?"

"Your father only offered me a job, the Dark Lord will give me power beyond your wildest imaginings."

"Once he has what he wants he will rid his kingdom of you. He is treacherous! The only thing he will give you is death!"

"Foolish child!" Aidan cried, his hand coming in contact with Thranduil's cheek in a harsh, slapping sound, "I will reign over my own army, my own kingdom..."

"Estel, you mustn't fall asleep again!" Thranduil was brought out of his reverie to his son's voice, commanding his human friend. "You have a concussion!"

"He speaks truth." Celvandil voiced quietly.

Thranduil smiled to himself, entering the room again, "Would you like to accompany me to the main hall for supper?"

All three nodded quickly, having skipped lunch, and followed the king. Estel and Legolas walked slowly, both leaning on each other a little.

Hopefully, Thranduil thought, the lady Galadriel would know how to help him rid the kingdom of Aidan again, and perhaps be able to find a way to turn back the twins. From what they had read if the maker would be destroyed, the fledglings would be either destroyed or turned to normal, depending upon how long they had been in their vampiric form. But how long they had, they were not certain; it could be three hours, it could be three years.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sluggishly, Elladan came to, his brain centered on the one sound he could hear. The hollow sound of melting snow dripping into a puddle from the cave's entrance. He groaned and tried to move, squinting grey eyes at the daylight reflecting off the snow outside. It was so bright!

He squirmed, finding himself tied to a large rock along the back of the cave. Panic rose, but then he remembered what had happened. His own brother betrayed him!

Elladan continued to move, feeling queasy and dizzy at the same time. It was freezing, and he knew that he should feel that, but could not. To his horror, he saw the snow outside turning red, a sure sign that dusk was falling over Mirkwood. He watched as the sun's last light fled into the shadows, and the darkness became nearly absolute besides the eerie glow of pale snow.

Footsteps came and he tried to turn to face them, but he was tied too tightly. It was Aidan, he knew, tagged by Elrohir and the maiden from the previous night on either side of him.

Aidan raised a hand, and he felt pain erupt in his back, red hot and burning cold at the same time. Elladan's vision clouded for a moment, and then cleared. Then the hand was lowered, and Elladan turned to see a pair of black wings from his back. Strangely unaffected by this new discovery, he turned to the three vampires in front of him.

Elrohir smiled at him, revealing a glimpse of sharp fangs, "Welcome to your new life, dear brother."

To be continued...

"Fortune, fame

Mirror vain

Gone insane

But the memory remains."

Metallica -- ‘'The Memory Remains'

Chapter VII: Escape into the Night

"I believe it is safe to untie him." Aidan said, gesturing to Elladan expectantly, "Elrohir."

Elrohir inclined his head to his master and went to unbind Elladan's wrists from the stalacites he had been tied to, helping his twin to stand.

Aidan carefully examined his new fledglings, nodding in approval, "Yes... this will do. You shall lure the prince to me."

"We must go and find my brothers!" Estel insisted, even as Legolas pressed the human back onto his bed.

"I do not see how we can defeat a vampire... much less two or more."

"Elladan's time is running out!"

"He was probably already taken by them. I am sorry."

Estel would not budge from his resolve, "Listen, the books said that this could be reversed by destroying the maker... within an amount of time of their making. If we could destroy the original, Elrohir would be well again, normal."

"And Elladan?" Legolas said, "We do not know if Elrohir or the creature has... altered him or not."

"We can only hope, but neither is benefiting from us doing nothing here!"

"How do you propose that we destroy this... Aidan?"

"I think, from studying these records, that beheading would work. That is what takes place in this story at least..." Estel held up a book, allowing Legolas to see the pictures, and the quenyan text, of the legend describing the defeat of a vampire in the First age.

Legolas sighed, "Listen, Estel, there is a chance that this will work. A very good chance. But us rushing in without knowing more or having a sure way to defeat them is foolish."

"But 'Dan... and 'Ro..." Estel's voice broke, his concern for his foster brothers bubbling to the surface.

"Listen." Legolas levelled his head near Estel, whispering like a conspirator, "My adar is planning something; I know him. He defeated Aidan last time, but did not fully kill him. This is his unfinished battle."

 "But we must go now." Estel whined, "Please?"

"My adar has it all under his control, if you do not go to sleep, I will get Celvandil to make you some tea, and force you to drink it myself."

"Tea?" His eyes widened in horror, memories of that tea resurfacing. "I shall be good and go to sleep. "Truly?"

"If you do not go to sleep now. We will speak more of the current situation when you awake again, I am certain my adar will have a plan or something by the time you are awake."

"But--"

"Celvandil's tea..." Legolas threatened.

Estel laid back down and pulled the coverlets over his head, pretending to snore, "I am sleeping. Sleeping... sleeping soundly... not awake."

Legolas shook his head and turned off the lamps, leaving the room in search of his father, for they had much to discuss and it would be best if the young human were not in the way.

The king, meanwhile, was in his study. Books and scrolls with recounts from the Last Alliance were spread across his desk, and more haphazardly strewn on his shelves and floor. It was, in short, a mess that Erestor would have a fit over. Thranduil leaned back in his seat, no longer granting his attention to written words. He leaned back in his chair, eyes open to the ceiling but unseeing as he let his mind drift back.  Lamplight spilled across the room, and fell in a sliver in the corridor from the door that was just a tiny sliver open.

Thranduil had passed several days in Adain's custody now, and he had witnessed the vampire's horrific transformation multiple times. He watched as another elf was borne in, carried by Aidan on black wings, and left on the ground, seemingly dead. Aidan slept for an entire day afterwards. When the other elf awoke, he was changed; he had been born into darkness.

And as for Aidan, he neither cared for king nor his new master. Gone was his sense of loyalty in the Dark Lord, replaced with a desire for power of his own. Tension began to build, and Aidan kept speaking of what would take place after the Dark Lord had won over the free peoples. Then it would be his turn to take control. Hostility continued to mount, and Thranduil found himself dragged into a battle that his father did not believe was his people's to fight.

"Tonight, tonight the battle will be held." Aidan said, strapping armour onto himself, "Then we shall see just how quickly your dear ada comes running to save you, spoiled little prince."

Thranduil could do nothing more than glare spitefully at Aidan, saving his strength for the upcoming battle.

"Adar, are you well?" Legolas asked, hastening to his father's side, the study door clicking shut behind him.

Thranduil shook his head to clear it, and then nodded, "I am. I was simply lost in memories."

"Aidan?" Legolas asked simply, receiving another short nod.

"So do you have an idea as to how to defeat him?" Legolas asked, pushing aside some scrolls to clear himself a seat on the desk. Thranduil blinked in annoyance at that.

"Indeed, I think I might have... now, if you would mind getting off of my desk..."

In the dark, warm chamber, one grey eye popped open. Valar, his head ached! But he knew what he had to do. Estel sat up, listening for several moments until he deemed it safe to get up. He changed quickly, and wrote a note to Legolas so that he would not think he had been kidnapped. The note read as follows:

'        Legolas,

I have gone to find my wayward brothers.

I shall be back by dawn!

        --Estel '

"Back by dawn... that is what he thinks." Legolas muttered, quickly running back to where his father was in his study, speaking with Celvandil.

"Estel has escaped!"

Celvandil groaned, "Daft man-child..."

"You are telling me this and then going to pursue him, correct?" Thranduil asked his son, wearily.

"Indeed."

"And there is no way I could persuade you otherwise?"

"Nay."

"Then please, please, I beg of you... be careful. I will give you a guard with as many as you need."

"I will put no lives besides my own at risk," Legolas said, "Besides, I travel faster alone."

Closing his eyes, Thranduil sighed. He knew that Legolas was a capable warrior, but facing two, possibly three, or more, vampires alone... it was reckless and probably would not work.

"I shall accompany you."

Legolas blinked at his father a few times, taking this information in, "It is your battle to finish."

Thranduil nodded, getting up to arm himself.

Celvandil looked at him, her expression horrified, "But my liege!"

"Listen," he silenced her, "I have sent a message to the Lady of the Golden Wood. When my falcon returns with her reply, send the falcon to me with it."

"We will be along the Old Forest road, just east of it. The falcon will be able to locate us, no doubt." Legolas told her.

"Mirkwood will survive without us for a little while. If Elrond found out about all three of his sons being captured, it would be liable to start a war. He loves them that much... I love my own that much."

Celvandil nodded, resigning; there was no arguing that tone.

Estel was already leagues into the woods, but found that he had lost his way. His head still ached from the previous injury, and the cold was making it difficult to think. Mirkwood was not called Mirkwood for nothing either, and a thick fog had again crept upon him, seeping in to his chill his bones as he wandered.

Suddenly, a figure jumped from the tree above directly into the path in front of him. Said figure raised his head, and Estel immediately recognized him, "Elladan!"

Another figure dropped gracefully behind him, his feet muffling in the snow. The voice was cold; unrecognizable. “I am Elladan, that is Elrohir.”

Estel turned around, backing against a tree between the two of them. He noticed the wings, similar to what Elrohir had the night before, on Elladan. His voice laced with fear, he stuttered, "What are you doing?"

"Retrieving the bait..."

To be continued...

How do you hate

How do you wake up with

That smile that's on your face.

Our Lady Peace -- `Sell my Soul'

Chapter IIX: A Moment of Clarity

Valar, Estel thought, why was it that he found himself waking up with headaches more often than without when he was around his brothers and Legolas? He sighed and tried to roll over, realizing first the suspicious lack of light, and then that he was bound tightly at both his ankles and wrists, sitting against a stone wall. A small amount of light, a dull grey glow, issued from the figures that approached him, and once his eyes adjusted it was all the light he needed to discern that the figures standing before him were Elladan, Elrohir and two unnamed elves, no, vampires. But by the look of the male, he knew that it must be Aidan. Estel stiffened, holding Aidan's green gaze with his own. Aidan stepped towards him, grasping his stubble-covered chin with one hand and lifting it up to examine him.

"What do you want of me?" Estel challenged.

"You, foolish human, will be of great use to me once I change you. Then you will go back and lure your lovely elven prince to me."

"I would do no such thing!" Estel said, defiantly shaking his head from the vampire's grasp.

"Perhaps this will change your mind..." Aidan murmured, leaning towards the human's neck arteries. Estel squirmed, but found the grasp on his shoulders unnaturally strong.

This was not right... Elladan knew this was wrong. He had to defend Estel! "Stop!" He cried, pulling Aidan's hand away from Estel's arm.

Suddenly, Aidan turned on him with a hiss, grabbing his wrists roughly "You dare defy me!?"

Elladan's eyes widened in fear as Aidan stared back at him, wild and menacing, "I-I mean that he would be of more use to us as he is..."

"Perhaps," Aidan seemed to think, "But defying me like that still warrants some punishment!"

Estel could only watch as Aidan dragged Elladan, who was helpless to resist him for he knew that he was much stronger, to the cave's entrance. Elrohir remained still, his expression unreadable as he watched his brother be forced forward, hands held out. Aidan covered his own hands with Elrohir's cloak, slowly moving towards the cave entrance where shafts of daylight fell down. Then Elladan screamed aloud, his hands held out to the sunlight. They burned as if they had been plunged into the depths of a smithy's fire, fuelled by coal.

Elrohir's hands burned too, or seemed to, and he clutched them, wincing in pain.

"Oh, how I love the sound of screams first thing in the morning." Aidan smiled wickedly, "I could fall asleep to this..."

"Enough!" Elrohir said.

Aidan at last pulled Elladan back into the cave, allowing him to stumble into a darkened corner to nurse his wounds. All this while Estel had closed his eyes, unable to watch his brothers be put through such pain. How much more time he had before Aidan would take him as well, Estel did not know... but for now, he was safe.

"Are you certain, my son, that we are going in the right direction?"

"Yes, I am quite sure."

"We are not lost then?"

"I do not think so."

"That phrase bodes ill."

Legolas gave his father a playful grin, trying to recall the place where the path had broken away towards the cave. The problem was that in the daylight it all appeared alike, and very different from the night. Legolas had been in such a rush then, that he had not noted any particular qualities about the pathway.

"Adar," He said, trying to distract his father from his irritated state, and quell his own curiosity. Even as an adult, elves would maintain the inquisitiveness of their youth. "About the Last Alliance. What happened then, between you and Adain?"

Thranduil sighed and glanced to his son, "You wish to know?"

"Very much so. You never told me about what happened then."

The king nodded, "I had been captured by Aidan, and after his transformation he joined the battle, holding me as prisoner. He knew that this would lead my father and his people into the battle, which before he had been so reluctant to join..."

"Give him to me Aidan." Oropher cried, reaching out. In his other hand he bore a sword, and he was fully armed. Already he, and the rest of his army, were splattered with the fluids of war: mud, sweat, tears and blood, both of the enemies and their own. It was neither day nor night, it seemed, for dark clouds covered the sky scape, bringing thunder and rains down on the battlefield.

"If he matters to you so much, then come and retrieve him!"

Thranduil saw the archers before Oropher, and he knew that he had to warn him of it. But now the rain seemed to fall slowly, and he pushed at the gag about his mouth, his eyes frantic as his father continued towards him, clamouring up the rocky hillside.

Within a flash of lightening Thranduil saw the orcish archer aim, marking Oropher carefully. Even as he struggled against his bonds, he saw the arrow let loose and make its mark.

He was frozen: unable to move, to speak, to warn him, to grieve him...

Dusk was falling again, night draping her dark cloak, embedded with diamond stars, over the world. Moonlight shone on the snow again, making the world all black, grey and soft. Thranduil and Legolas still travelled, seeming to go around in circled along the pathway as they searched for any trace of Estel or the twins.

From the cave entrance, where they were, Aidan watched as the light crept away, as if frightened by the approaching shadow. In his arms was a limp form, shorter and stockier than an elf's. This was Estel, neither dead nor bitten, but simply knocked from consciousness once more. Behind him stood the vampiric she-elf, who seemed exceedingly loyal to Aidan, and the twins, their expressions vacant and uncomprehending.

"Tonight," Aidan muttered, "This shall be the night when both Thranduil and his brat are eliminated."

To be continued...

"The day rolls in, the night rolls out,

Desire rules without a doubt,

The heart beats fast, you salivate

And when you come it won't be late.

I guess by now you got the score

A little taste, you want it more."

Aerosmith -- 'Flesh'

Chapter IX: Concluding the Nightmare

After darkness had fallen over Mirkwood again, so did the snow. It was falling thicker than before, the fat, fluffy flakes drifting down lazily, but abundantly even with the canopy of trees above to shield the forest floor. Thranduil and his son still travelled, finally finding a familiar tree near where Legolas had found Elrohir previously.

"Hullo there!" Called a soft, light voice and immediately Thranduil drew his sword while Legolas rested his hands on the cool handles of his daggers, eyes ablaze with blue fire as they searched the wood.

"Down here!" Came the voice again, and both elves looked towards the ground to see a small, elvish girl gazing up at them, a smile playing across her lips.

Legolas promptly dropped his hands from his daggers and knelt before her, placing one hand on her shoulder and looking about around her.

"Are you out here all alone?" He cried, worry colouring his voice. A child so young should not be left alone in such dark times and places.

"No, my older brother is with me, but he is hurt. Can you help him?"

"We will try," Legolas told her, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. "Take us to him." The girl hissed softly as she was touched, a sound similar to an angered cat and Legolas decided that it was best to let her be alone if she did not want to be too near to him. There was something strange about her, he figured, falling back in step with his father and looking at him quizzically, as if he could tell him something.

"She is the same girl who went missing a little while ago." Thranduil whispered, "Do not trust her. She is likely one of these vampires."

Barely concealing a gasp of surprise, Legolas glanced quickly back to the blonde head bobbing ahead of him, and then stared at his father in disbelief. Thranduil nodded, "Very likely in fact, I am nearly certain. Do not be guiled by her sweet face."

The snow only thickened more as they travelled, and even the elves began to feel cold, though the little girl who wore no cloak seemed unaffected. Above the trees and through the canopy the wind blew, howling angrily, and a deep rumbling sound from the sky warned of an approaching storm.

With his sharp, elvish sight Legolas noticed shadows flit between the trees, and eventually he was able to make out a face, or was it two? They were the same face, but he knew they belonged to two different beings, for they were moving too quickly about him to be one. The expression, however, belonged to neither, and did not suit the fair face. Legolas' hands flew to his daggers, and he felt the hilts' metallic chill reassuring in his hands. Thranduil's hand came to rest on his left wrist, pulling his arm away from the dagger.

"Be at peace." The king shook his head, "They are merely watching us, and will not attack until they see fit."

They turned a bend in the forest, and straight up ahead of them Legolas at last caught sight of what they were searching for. There, hands bound above him to a branch, was Estel. His eyes were closed tightly, unconscious, and his face was pale as the snow. Legolas gave a gasp and rushed forth, not heeding the warning Thranduil shouted to him. The elf knew very well that it was a trap, but chose not to acknowledge that fact. Ahead of him, the little girl gave a giggle and disappeared between the branches.

The branch above him cracked and was suddenly dropped upon by a figure from above him. He struggled to escape the vampire, trying to escape from beneath the strong arms and heavy wings, but only able to turn about and grab one of his daggers. Holding this up against his attacker, Legolas' eyes went wide. This was Elrohir! He could not possibly even think about stabbing him, could he? But there was a wild look to the other elf's eyes, something unnatural, for they were filled with bloodlust.

Thranduil rushed after his son, trying to pry Elrohir off of him. Then he felt someone tap his shoulder lightly, and he turned to face Aidan, a sinister smirk across the vampire's face.

"It seems as if your son is no match for my child of darkness."

"Aidan, why do you insist on harming the elflings?" Thranduil bellowed, swinging a punch at his head.

Aidan dodged skillfully, his supernatural blood giving him a level of nearly invisible speed; "You are growing old, Thranduil. Why, I can remember when you were as old as they are now."

Thranduil snarled, drawing his sword.

"And your father was defending you as you are doing to these young ones now." Aidan thought for a moment, "Though the human is an interesting twist. No matter, he shall be dealt with, once I am through with you and your son."

They fought on, swords clanging in the still air. Slowly, so that Thranduil barely noticed it, Aidan was driving him deeper into the forest, and suddenly a cave mouth yawned open. There, in the confined darkness, the vampire would have the advantage. Thranduil knew that he must not let himself be taken into the cave, but then he noticed Elrohir dragging Legolas inside. Legolas was awake and squirming, but Thranduil caught sight of blood, bright red, dribbling down his collar. This gave Aidan the advantage he needed, to push Thranduil into the pitch-black enclosure.

Here, Aidan was able to strike him more often. Thranduil received a bloody gash across his left thigh, and a few other minor wounds. He heard Legolas cry out in the darkness and winced. All the king could do now was hope that his plan would work and that help came quickly.

"A storm approaches!" called one leading guard, Rundiul, to the back of their party, trying to get his voice above the howling wind.

"Our king and prince are still somewhere in these woods." their captain, Celon said, gritting his teeth. He was one of the most devote of Thranduil's guard, and would not return without the royal family, especially during a storm and with the rumours of what had been going on in the woods.

Celvandil continued to scan the sky, at last catching a glimpse of Thranduil's falcon through the trees. "This way!" She called, dashing ahead of the rest of the guard in pursuit of the falcon. Half a dozen guards followed her, forcing themselves deeper into the heart of the snowstorm.

Above the snowy treetops, a falcon screeched, carefully manoeuvring between the storm clouds. In his talons was clutched a glass flask containing some silvery liquid.

To be continued...

"In winter fog, in gathering mist

The grey grim battle had its end --

And at the very last we knew

His enemy had turned his friend."

Sarah Teasdale -- 'The Silent Battle'

Chapter X: Concluding the Nightmare II

Above the storm began; initially with a glimmer of silver against the grey, and then a growing streak which became bolts of lightening dancing across the sky. Cracks sounded, though there was always an underlying rumble as the light split the clouds. The falling snow was becoming wetter and wetter, not quite totally frozen as it made it's way down. Unfortunately this not-quite-frozen snow was even colder than actual snow, which one could easily brush away. The sleet, with an amount of hail mixed in as if the Valar were testing their strength, rained down thickly and even the thick canopy of Mirkwood could not repel it. It was in fact one of these hailstones, a particularly large one, which woke Estel. Upon impact he opened his eyes, noticing first that his body was numb with cold and then that he was tied to a tree. Mind reeling, the incidents from hours ago came flooding back. He closed his eyes and sighed, his brow creasing with worry. Where was Legolas? Where were the twins?

"Looking for someone?" A voice asked, cool, confident, and unsettlingly familiar. Estel didn't want to bring his gaze up from the snowy ground, but he recognized the boots all too well. They were of soft, brown deerskin, treated to the point of being nearly entirely waterproof, and lined with soft fur for warmth. Obviously they had seen some travel, but were not yet in need of major repairs. He could remember Elrohir complaining about the fit, the amount of toe space to be exact, and putting up such a fuss that he eventually gave them to his twin.

"Estel, dearest little brother..." Elladan said, clasping one hand along Aragorn's lightly stubbled jaw and bringing it up so that he could look into his face. "Do you know what they will do to Legolas?"

"Legolas will not let them... change... him as they have changed you."

"Estel, watch this..." Elladan quickly moved to an old stump, ancient and embeded deeply in the ground, though it's roots were rotting. It was still quite tightly held under by the frost and hard-packed earth, and would take at least five elves to pull it free. But Elladan grasped it from either side, digging tightly into the wood with his elongated fingernails, and gave a great heave. He grunted, and soon the ground about the trunk cracked and gave way, allowing Elladan to pull it up with ease and toss it aside.

Elladan returned, grinning and gazing at his quivering hands, "Did you see that? That strength... that power... it's all mine Estel."

"It is unnatural!" Estel cried, starring in horror. Elladan was never that power hungry before, why was he now? "Elladan," He pleaded, "is there any of you left in there?"

A flash of lightening and Elladan's face went from smirking to blank, the vampire fledgling seeming to think for a few minutes, his pallid face bright in the greyness. "I..." his voice gave way and his head fell. The raging storm seemed to fall into the background, not mattering at all to either of them.

"I need the old Elladan... is he in there?" Estel's voice sounded too soft and broken even upon his own ears, but it was laced with urgency.

When Elladan looked back up his eyes were back to the same dark blue that they always had been, and his skin held a healthier tone, lacking the azure glow from before.

"Estel..." Was all he had a chance to mutter before a heavy sword hilt was brought down on his temple, rendering him unconscious.

"Elladan!" Estel screamed in horror as his brother sank below him, his face replaced by that of one of the Mirkwood guards.

"You are safe now."

"Rundiul, he was not going to hurt me!"

Celvandil laughed, coming up beside them, "And wargs can fly."

"Truly, he was not." Estel said, not knowing how to explain what he had seen. Rundiul cut him down from the tree, and three of the other guards surveyed the area, each of them bearing a newly lit lantern that they strove to keep dry in the storm, holding their cloaks against the wind. Estel nearly sank to the ground as soon as he was released, but besides the dizziness, cold and resounding pain in his head, he found himself otherwise unharmed.

The remaining guard took his dagger to Elladan's throat, holding it against the point where blood, though unnatural blood, still throbbed and turned to his captain, awaiting the order to slay him. "Do not do it!" Estel yelled, shoving the guard away. "Would you begin war between Mirkwood and Imladris?"

The guard looked up, wide-eyed; that would be quite an accusation, and quite a weight to bear if a war were to begin.

"It would be better than having this beast walk the forests, taking as he will." Rundiul said, eyeing Elladan with trepidation.

"This may sound ridiculous, I know, but Elladan is still in there... somewhere. He is lost, but I know that he is there. Just wait a little while longer, the King Thranduil will settle these disputes."

Rundiul was still not convinced, but the captain stepped in. "There will be no unnecessary deaths by my part." He said with a shake of his golden head, and he issued for the guard to sheath his dagger.

"Nor under my watch." Celvandil said, quickly using the ropes that had been holding Estel the tree to bind Elladan's wrists, being cautious not to touch the great black wings upon his back as if they would sting her.

"Those ropes will not hold him!" Rundiul cried in alarm, but was promptly ignored when a great falcon swooped downwards and gave a screech before taking flight between the trees.

The captain and Celvandil burst into a run after it, calling for the other guards to follow them. They saw the flask held within his talons, and knew that it was the fabled Light of Eärendil, the rays of a star captured in a flask by Galadriel. Following the falcon led them to where Thranduil was in the cave, and the light emanated by the flask guided them to him.

Thranduil looked to his left momentarily to see the falcon land on his shoulder, and he reached up to grab the flask away from him. "Thank you my friend."

Before he could use the flask, Aidan came upon him again. But this flask would be to his advantage. Thranduil knew, bringing his blade against the vampire and then holding out the Light of Eärendil against him...

Aidan held the Prince Thranduil tightly in his clutches as Oropher fell. But as soon as the king had fallen to the ground Thranduil squirmed away; Aidan had made the mistake of thinking that Thranduil could do nothing. He fell to his knees next to his father, crying "Ada! Ada!"

At last one of Oropher's eyes opened, a slit of azure blue that watched Thranduil. Through his tears Thranduil watched as his father's chest heaved his last few breathes, he murmured in Sindarin, "My son, please, tell your mother that I love her. Know that I love you."

"Do not go ada!"

"I cannot stay. Mandos' Halls are calling me." He smiled wearily, "My strong son, take care of Greenwood the Great, it is yours now."

"Ada!"

"And never," he gasped as dots of pain came across his vision, "never, turn your back on your friend, nor your enemy."

"Ada..." Thranduil whispered in a broken voice as his father's hand fell from the side of his face it was caressing.

"I shall avenge you, ada, mark my words!" Thranduil alleged, swelling with hatred and grief. With that he stood up, holding the sword he had found in his fathers limp grasp.

"Aidan, I will destroy you!" He declared, jumping on the vampire with his sword held out.

Aidan cried out in pain, a hideous howling sound, as Thranduil's sword slid into the lower section of his chest cavity. He writhed, his great black wings nearly beating up a whirlwind.

"Die, you beast!"

Thranduil released the sword to avoid being thrashed by the wings and stepped back, watching awestruck as Aidan took to a wavering flight into the abysmal grey skyscape above the battlefield. The vampire staggered, and then disappeared into the wood within moments.

Aragorn, Celvandil and the guards rushed into the cave, quickly drawing their blades against the vampires. Celvandil was pitted against the female vampire, each exchanging extremely quick, light blows and parries.

The guards tried to pry Legolas away from Elrohir's clutches, and soon their prince fell to the ground, wounded with many scratches and deep gnashes, but breathing still.

They looked to one another, and then cried, "For Mirkwood!" and rushed forth, blades drawn against Elrohir. But with his supernatural speed, strength and skill Elrohir was evenly matched, able to parry most of the thrusts directed towards him.

Celvandil, though, was having some difficulties against the female vampire. A well-placed scratch landed her right arm mostly useless, and more often than not the vampire eluded her own blows. Aragorn thought it was time to intercept, and the two, Aragorn and Celvandil, with one guard soon had driven her into a corner.

Within the cave, the air was thick with tension and the sounds of battle.

Suddenly, Thranduil shoved the Light of Eärendil up into Aidan's face. While the vampire had before been trying to avoid the light, now he screamed, covering his eyes with an arm as if it were blinding him. When he turned around to avoid the light, Thranduil plunged the sword into Aidan's heart, right between his wings. Aidan arched forward, gasping, his face contorted in horror. Elrohir and the female vampire both clutched their chests as well, both falling to the ground and writhing like dying animals.

Everyone watched, not daring to move, as Thranduil drove his sword a little deeper into Aidan, all the way to the hilt. He gritted through his teeth, "This is for killing my father. I vowed long ago that I would avenge you, and this is it." He twisted the sword into Aidan's heart, "Die, beast!"

With a muttered curse, Aidan's body fell upon itself and burst into flame, dissolving into ashes within the confined environment of the cave. It all seemed to pass by quickly to Aragorn, and when he looked again Thranduil had resheathed his blade and was standing next to Celvandil who was checking Elrohir's pulse. Legolas leant against his father, looking weary.

She nodded to her king, "He will live."

The guards helped carry Elladan and Elrohir back while Thranduil, feeling defensive, took his son into his arms as if he were only a small child. Thus they trekked back to the palace, the clouds clearing, the moon rising in a flourish and spilling bright white light across the forest floor, covered in a thick, cold layer of ice and hail from the storm. Aragorn and Celvandil leaned against each other, both wounded in the battle but still able to walk. Celvandil muttered insults directed towards Aragorn and humans in general beneath her breath, but Aragorn paid no heed.

It was noon the next day when Legolas woke up, suffering from a pounding headache that was nearly as bad as Aragorn's and many scratches. Thranduil immediately hugged his son, relieved at the sight of his bright eyes and the smile that graced his fair features. Aragorn was ill after spending so long in the cold, but recovered without dificulty. It took another three days before the twins woke up, both disoriented, but well. They had fortunatly not been vampires long enough to make them full ones. The elvish woman they had fought had not woken up, and they did not know whether she would or not. Eventually, after everyone had endured a great deal of rest and herbal teas, they began to remember what had happened, and constantly offered heart-felt apologies.

"We do not blame you, you do realize." Aragorn at last told them, after accepting every apology before then. "You were not yourselves.. it is well now. Let us forget it."

"Does that mean that we do not have to tell ada?" Elrohir asked hopefully.

"Lord Elrond already knows." Thranduil told them, leaning against the doorway.

Elladan and Elrohir looked to each other, their eyes filled with fear. Their adar would be furious for all the trouble they had gotten into! 

"Please,"

"Do not make us go back just yet."
 

"Let us stay."

"We will do anything."

"Anything you say?" Thranduil asked.

"I think I would prefer facing ada's wrath.." Elladan commented, wiping sweat from his brow. They were kneeling in Thranduil's throne room, their breeches pulled to above their knees and their sleeves shoved above their elbows. Half the floor had been scrubbed, and they had a great deal to finish still.

"Can you imagine what he will say?!" Elrohir asked, aghast.

 "Indeed... he will say 'You have been very bad,'" Elladan imitated their father, waving his mop about haphazardly. Without watching what he was doing, Elladan didn't even see the vase until he had smashed it to the ground.

"Oh no..." Elrohir moaned.

"Let us go, now!" Elladan cried, abandoning his mop and dashing towards their chamber to pack for the trip home.

Legolas laughed as Elladan and Elrohir passed by him, like a whirlwind, and headed down the corridor, straight into his father.

"Are you not staying for the festival?" Thranduil asked, raising a brow.

"No, no. Our adar will be worried."

They continued down the corridor, nearly tripping over each others feet, leaving Thranduil to chuckle heartily and Legolas grin. Things were as they should be.

                                                                   The End

Authors:�@Lily Frost and TC angel face ( http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=370422 )

Canon Notes: Set pre - LotR with mild canon tweaks, including our own specifics on vampire anatomy, as Tolkien gave little detail. Aragorn was raised in Elrond’s home literally, and Elladan and Elrohir are his adoptive brothers. They are close friends with Legolas, and the four have a tendency to get into trouble.

Author's Notes: A vampire story? Why the heck not, they are canon after all. TC came up with the initial idea, and kept me motivated, but the bunny kind of dragged me away with it. ;) --Lily

Warnings: Eventual gore and angst.