Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, I'm not making any money.

A/N: Ok, I know what this looks like, but it is NOT, I repeat NOT a M/S, or a romance fic. I just wanted to show how contented their lives were and that they've moved on with their lives, instead of mooning over the loss of Aragorn and Arwen and the rest. No worries, mellyn nin, after this chappie, the wives and kids will only make a few appearances. I promise *g*

Now, I owe Bill the Pony and Etharei a HUGE apology, I had originally written a prologue, which was basically a summary of the Silmarillion, and decided not to use it after all. Of course, I decided this AFTER they beta'd and did some fact checking for me, lol. So guys, I'm sorry, you are the first official winners of the 'Non-prize'.

May you treasure it always.

Secondly, big thanks to Eleni, who beta'd this chappie for me, as my regular beta, Trin is off on vacation. *mutters stupid people having fun on vacation while I'm working my butt off*

Just so you know, this fic takes place in the modern day and age, which will become readily apparent in the next chappie, but I wanted to start off with action, so I hope you can all forgive me.

Boy, this is a LOT of blah blah today.

Anyways, here we go!

ON with the fic!

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Elladan stretched luxoriously in his bed, enjoying the peace and quiet of the early morning.

On his right, his wife, Amariel, was just awakening. She sighed, and snuggled closer, like him, seeking just a few more moments of rest.

"Ada!! Nana!! Time to wake up!!"

Small hands tugged at his, and Elladan rolled over and looked into the grinning face of his son.

"Thorongil, the sun has barely risen, what is it?"

"Thelren said she's hungry."

Elladan groaned inwardly. "It's too early for breakfast, we will eat with your grandparents and uncle this morning, remember?"

"Oh yeah..." Thorongil trailed off, looking at his father hopefully.

Elladan sighed, and made room, "Come on then."

The elfling smiled in delight, and crawled up into his parents warm bed, snuggling down between them.

Elladan had almost dozed off again when he felt a small knee land right in his stomach, he grunted and sat up reflexively, only to stare in the face of his Thorongil's twin sister, Thelren.

"Lonely?" He asked softly, not wanting to disturb Amariel.

She nodded mutely, so he scooped her up, and tucked her under his arm, where she curled up happily.

Elladan grunted when her bony knee connected with his ribs, then sighed once again, thinking that his children were going to pay him back for everything he and his own twin had ever done.

As he was finally drifting back off to sleep, a sudden sense of impending doom filled his senses, sending chills up and down his spine.

All four sat up straight in bed, and the twins burst into tears.

Elladan exchanged a wide-eyed look with Amariel, "What was that?"

~*~

Elrohir was in a state of pure bliss.

He had been married only recently, as opposed to his brother who had been wed for 20 years now.

He and his wife of 2 years, Laireiel, were lying comfortably in their bed, having a quiet conversation in the early morning light.

She had her dark head on his bare chest, and he was resting a hand on her swollen abdomen.

They were trying to decide what to name the little one that would be arriving soon.

"Nothing I can think of seems right, Elrohir." She sighed, as he gently rubbed her belly where the babe began kicking furiously.

"Perhaps when we finally see him..."

"Or her!" Laireiel interjected playfully.

"Or her, the name will come to us." Elrohir sighed contentedly, and kissed the top of her head affectionately.

"Perhaps." She sighed agreeably, and simply enjoyed the comfort of his arms for a moment longer, before a thought occured to her.

"Oh! Elrohir, we are supposed to have breakfast with your family this morning!" She sat up awkwardly, and slid off the edge of the bed.

Elrohir grinned, it would be good to see them, even better to see his niece and nephew torment his brother. "I had forgotten about that."

He looked down at himself. He was stark naked, as was his wife, who was currently rummaging about in the closet. "Well, I suppose we should get dressed then." He rolled out of bed with a great deal more grace than Laireiel, though she could be forgiven that particular deficiency, as she was due to give birth any day now.

Elrohir ducked and grinned as she playfully tossed a pair of breeches at him.

Pulling them on, he walked over to where she was dragging a chemise over her head, and nipped her ear playfully.

"None of that, Master Elf, we are late as it is!" But she grinned at him affectionately, nonetheless.

"Very well," Elrohir sighed in mock resignation, before pressing a tender kiss to her cheek, then her belly. "I'm going to wash up."

As he reached for the door, his lithe body stiffened, and he spun around to look at his wife.

Her brilliant blue eyes were wide in horror, and she clutched her pregnant belly close.

"Get dressed, meleth nin, I think we need to get out of this house."

~*~

Legolas blinked slowly in the early morning light, then looked down at his chest.

On one side, his wife, Annunelleth had her fiery red head resting on his shoulder, her pale lashes resting against her cheeks in an exhausted sleep.

On the other side, Faenrin, his daughter, was plastered against him, her blue eyes, an exact copy of his own were staring blankly at his arm.

He smiled, and pulled them both closer for a second, before carefully rising to attend to the stringent call of nature that had awoken him. In his wake, Faenrin snuggled against Anunnelleth's abdomen.

'She is already beginning to show,' He thought absently as he unfastened his sleeping pants. 'Eru help me if she is having twins, I have seen the trouble Elladan's pair gives him!'

Legolas was just refastening his breeches when he felt a cold chill run down his spine, a sensation he had not felt in centuries.

His brow furrowed in concern, and he stepped back into the bedroom, to check on his wife and daughter. They were both sitting up straight in bed, Annunelleth trying to comfort Faenrin who was in a state of pure panic.

"Nana!! Nana, the dark man is coming! He's coming!! I SAW him!" The child was gasping for air, and shaking all over, Annunelleth's own face was pale, as she tried to comfort her daughter.

"Hush now, hush, little squirrel, everything is alright!" Annunelleth was shivering herself, as she held Faenrin against her bosom, trying desperately to to calm both the child, and herself.

Legolas crossed the room in a two long strides, and climbed up on the bed beside them, gathering both up against his chest. "Alright, it's alright now. I'm here, we're together, I'll always protect you both."

He was still clutching them to his chest when a tremor rocked the room, all three froze.

It lasted only a few moments, and knocked some things off the shelves.

When it had passed, Legolas gathered up his daughter in his arms, "Anni, grab the dog, we are getting out of here!"

Faenrin clung to Legolas as he ran down the halls, Anni and the dog, aptly named Cell-hu*, following close behind.

As he reached for the front door, a second tremor shook the entire house, knocking all of them off their feet. Cell-hu began growling and pacing, often snarling at thin air, before backing protectively against his family.

Whatever it was the dog was sensing, the little family could feel it to a lesser degree. Legolas rolled to his feet gracefully, having never once released his daughter, and helped Anni to her feet.

The door had been knocked off it's hinges, and Legolas set Faenrin down long enough to help Anni through the mess, then passed the elfling to her mother.

He shoved the still growling dog through next, before finally climbing through himself.

Outside, all of Valinor was in an uproar. Houses were on fire, elves screaming and crying all around him. Legolas could see many were wounded, and many others were dead.

Those that could walk were helping those that couldn't, and all were heading toward the interior of the island.

Anni was still clutching Faenrin to her chest, when Cell-hu simply took off running in the opposite direction, straight toward the pier. Legolas was inclined to let him go, but one look at his daughters panic-stricken face as she called after her beloved dog changed his mind.

"Anni, take Faenrin, and follow the others, I'll get Cell-hu, and find you there!" She nodded, no stranger to dangerous situations.

Annunelleth had been a soldier for the Lady Galadriel for many years before the War of the Ring, and knew how to handle herself. Legolas trusted that she would keep their daughter safe, as he ran after the accursed dog.

~*~

Elladan was just helping Thorongil get dressed when the first tremor shook their home. Crouching down, he braced himself against the wall, and clutched his son to his chest until it passed. Then he quickly fastened the last buckles on Thorongil's pants, and half-led, half-dragged his son out into the hallway.

Amariel was already there, her fair face paler than usual. Thelren's dress was slightly askew, but no one paid it any heed as they ran out of the house.

Once outside, it was eerily calm, most folks were clearly still in bed

Elladan wasted no time, gathering up his son, while Amariel scooped their daughter, "Let's head for the interior of the island, it should be safer there!"

The family stepped forward, and a second tremor shook the island, this one much stronger.

Elves began to pour out of their homes now, as the walls and roofs began caving in around them.

Elladan saw many trapped and helpless, so he set his son down, "Amariel, take Thorongil and Thelren to the interior, I'm going to see if I can help here!"

Amariel nodded mutely, and taking each of the children by the hand, she ran as fast as possible.

Elladan began helping a family out of one of the collapsed houses. Just as he set the last elfling safely on the ground, a dog ran past him, nearly colliding into his knees.

Not far behind the dog was Legolas, carrying a length of rope, and calling to the dog desperately.

"Legolas! Mellon nin, leave the dog!"

The Prince paused, and gave Elladan a withering look. "I cannot, you know how attached Faenrin is to him! Help me catch him, it will be faster!"

Elladan looked around, there were enough Elves helping those who needed it now, so he nodded, and followed Legolas and Cell-hu with a sigh.

~*~

Elrohir, like his brother, had wasted no time from that first sense of danger. He helped Laireiel into a comfortable gown, buttoning it up the back for her. He then donned the first shirt he saw, slipped a small dagger into his boot, and helped his very pregnant wife out the door.

They were walking toward Elrond's house when the first tremor struck, knocking them both off their feet.

Elrohir carefully pulled Laireiel to her feet, and they continued on until the second tremor struck, and elves began running past them.

He saw Amariel and the twins running right at them, and waited for them impatiently.

"We are heading toward the center of Valinor, Elladan thinks it will be safest there." Amariel was gasping for air, and the elflings were clinging to her, clearly terrified.

"Where is my brother?"

"Back in the village, a lot of homes have been destroyed, he's helping people escape them."

Elrohir nodded, "Does he need help?"

"Probably." Amariel pried Thelrin's fingers from her own, and Laireiel held out her hand for her niece. "We will go with Laireiel to the center, you go help your brother."

Elrohir nodded, and ran pell-mell toward the village, fighting the crowd that was heading in the exact opposite direction.

Once he arrived, he looked around for his brother, only to see him chasing after Legolas, who looked to be carrying some rope.

Elrohir glanced around, and saw that his aid was no longer necessary here, so he followed his twin and the Prince toward the shoreline.

Once he arrived, he saw that most of the boats were destroyed by the tremors, only one appeared to be intact, and as he watched, the dog leapt right into that one.

Legolas and Elladan followed, and so Elrohir prepared to do so as well.

Just as he reached the boat, a third tremor rocked Valinor, this one more violent than the other two combined.

Elrohir could not keep his feet, and collapsed to his knees, terrified as the very ground shook beneath him.

A large crack rent the earth behind him, cutting off any escape into the interior of the Island.

The ground began to crumble, and fall into the ocean around Elrohir, so he acted on pure instinct. Pulling the dagger from his boot, he cut the moorings of the boat, and leapt into it. Legolas and Elladan looked at him in shock, from where they had cornered the dog. As they turned to question him, waves from the earthquake, and falling debris pushed the boat away from the collapsing shoreline.

Elrohir rose, and looked back at what remained of Valinor.

Thick black smoke was rising from all over the island, blocking out the sun effectively.

As the ship sailed away toward Middle Earth, Elrohir couldn't help but wonder what had happened, and offered a fervent prayer to Eru for the safety of their friends and families as they sailed away helplessly from them.

~*~

*evil cackle*

We start OUT with a cliffie! WOOHOO!!!

Hang on tight folks, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!

disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters or settings, they all belong to Tolkien. However, all OC's are mine, my own, my preciousssssssssss, so please don't use them without my permission. This is just for fun.

A/N: Well, it seems the first chappie went over well, lol! I'm glad everyone enjoyed it! Thanks for the many wonderful reviews, and please review again. However, all flames will be thoroughly laughed at by me, and my friends, then deleted, so don't bother.

This is an AU fic, so some liberties have been taken, though I'm trying to stick as closely to canon as possible. Please keep this in mind while reading.

Special thanks to Whit, who beta'd me this time around, I appreciate it doll!

And a note for Trin: Get your butt back from vacation!

Alrighty, enough chatter for one day, on with the fic!

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Legolas glared at Elrohir as he tried not to fall off the ship.

The younger twin was crouching on the deck of the little ship, fighting desperately for his balance. In one hand he was clutching a dagger, the dim sunlight gleamed off the razor sharp blade, the other was braced on the deck, as he tried to compensate for the bucking of the waves beneath the boat.

Cell-hu had apparently decided that running was no longer necessary as he cowered between his master's legs. Legolas was crouched in a similar position to Elrohir, holding the dog's collar with one hand, the other braced on the deck.

Elladan, who had never been a very good sailor, was clinging to the mast, looking decidedly green.

The three didn't move for several minutes, as the tremors continued to rock Valinor, causing the ship to leap and buck wildly on the waves.

Eventually, the quakes ceased, and the three elves regained their feet.

Though Elrohir had a million questions running through his mind, first and foremost to him was the safety of his wife, sister-in-law, niece and nephew. "We have to get back to shore!"

Legolas continued glaring at him for a moment, before tying Cell-hu in an out of the way place, to keep him out from underfoot, and helping Elrohir with the sails.

Elladan took a moment longer to recover, before he rose and took a line from Legolas, so the Prince could shimmy up the mast and fix a sail that had gotten tangled. As Legolas climbed, he kept shooting evil looks at Elrohir, and muttering things like. "If you hadn't cut the ship's moorings you nift!" and "Just wait until we get back to shore!"

Legolas reached the top with elven ease, and perched on the crow's nest, the wind tossing his hair about like a banner.

From his vantage point, he could see that Valinor was utterly ruined. Not a building was standing, and most of the trees had fallen over as well. But no matter how he squinted, he could not catch sight of a single elf, living or dead. This terrified him beyond all measure, but what frightened him even more was that the Valar had not made a single appearance.

Not to quell the tremors, nor calm the fears of the elves, nor even to explain what was going on.

Legolas was almost certain something had happened to them, but what? What on Earth could possibly harm the Valar?

The thick black smoke was spreading all over the island now, and stretching to outlying islands which were largely uninhabited, though one housed a few soldiers who preferred the relative privacy away from the mainland, as they guarded Valinor from unwanted visitors.

Legolas could see them standing on the shore, frantically waving at the ship. As he watched, the smoke reached the island, and encompassed it. A gust of wind cleared it away for a moment, the elves had simply vanished, as though they had never been there.

The Prince was horrified, he quickly finished with sail, and shimmied back down to the deck. "We have to get back to shore as soon as possible."

Elladan and Elrohir nodded, in full agreement with their old friend.

"That's not such a good idea, mellyn nin."

All three froze at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, then looked around frantically.

Though they canvassed the entire ship with their sharp elven gaze, they saw nothing.

Legolas' brow furrowed, the more he thought about it, the voice DID sound familiar, though he could not place it just yet.

Tying down a final line, he looked in the direction the voice had come from, "Why is it not such a good idea? And who are you that you call us your friends? Show yourself!"

This produced a hearty chuckle, "Once upon a time, we were the best of friends, like brothers."

Elladan closed his eyes, the mellifluous voice was tugging at his heartstrings, and he did recognize it now. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he whispered a name he never thought he'd speak again. "Estel?"

Elrohir and Legolas looked at the older twin in shock, it was impossible! Aragorn had been dead for 6000 years! There was no possible way they could be hearing his voice now.

The voice simply chuckled again, "I always knew you were the smart one, Elladan."

Elladan blinked once, and then again. Right before his eyes a figure was slowly appearing, as though made of mist.

At first, he could only see silvery eyes that sparkled with humor and warmth, then the familiar grin. After a few moments, Aragorn stood before them, looking exactly has he had when he was 21.

He stood straight, with his broad shoulders squared, and his chin up. His face was unmarked by age and the worry that ruling a kingdom had brought him, and he was positively grinning from ear to ear. "Miss me?"

"Of course!" Elrohir, as usual, didn't think before he acted, and dived at his long lost younger brother.

As he leapt forward, Aragorn rolled his eyes, but didn't move, and the normally graceful elf passed right through him as though he were smoke, and landed flat on his face on the deck.

Aragorn snorted, and crouched down beside the younger twin, "You can't touch me, 'Ro, I don't have a physical body. In fact, I can take any form I wish, but I can't have physical contact, because I'm nothing more than a spirit now."

Elrohir rolled over, and glared at Aragorn, "Well you could have warned me!"

Aragorn didn't respond, but simply looked over at Legolas, "6000 years, and everything that goes wrong is still my fault! It's nice to know some things never change."

Shaking his head, Legolas helped Elrohir up, and all four turned to look at what remained of Valinor.

"What happened Aragorn?" Elladan's voice was distressed, as he thought of his wife and children caught in that mess. "What caused all of this?"

"What could?" Aragorn's voice had lost all it's humor, and his eyes had lost their cheerful sparkle. "What is the only thing that could cause this sort of destruction?"

Legolas closed his eyes as his heart dropped to the toes of his boots, and he whispered the name, "Melkor."

Aragorn simply nodded, and his brow furrowed. "I have much to explain to you, but first you must get as far away from Valinor as possible, it's no longer a haven for anyone, but especially Elvenkind."

"Wait, what about our families, Aragorn! We have wives, and children, we can't just abandon them!" Elladan looked almost ready to leap off the boat, and swim to shore.

"You're not 'abandoning' them, you HAVE to leave, so you can help them! Don't worry, the children can be kept safe from Melkor, Arwen is protecting them from him." Aragorn smiled reassuringly at his older brother.

At the mention of their sister's name, both Elladan and Elrohir looked at Aragorn hopefully, "She is well, then?"

"Oh yes, very well. Even though she has no physical body, she still has the powers granted her as the Evenstar, though the Valar can not help her, neither does Melkor dare harm her. She has your children, along with all the other elflings on Valinor in her protection, and there they will remain until the danger has passed." Aragorn stepped away from them, and began to fade away. "Now, you must get sailing, and I have other things to attend to. When you have reached a safe distance from Valinor, I will return, and explain everything to you, I promise."

With those last words echoing in their ears, Aragorn vanished, leaving them quite alone.

The three elves exchanged awestruck and determined looks, then they adjusted the sails, and sailed away from Valinor as quickly as the vessel could go.

~*~

Are you guys enjoying so far? Review and let me know either way!

disclaimer: I don't own any of this...blah blah blah...I'm not making any money from it.

A/N: Am I endangering your lives by writing this story? I had at least two people threaten to faint, and a third tell me they were going to die. Perhaps I should put a warning on this fic? "WARNING: May be hazardous to your health: Author is not responsible for any fainting spells, seizures, cancer, broken bones, high cholesterol, head colds, high blood pressure, brain freeze, heart attack, chemical spill, bad hair day, aneurysm or sudden death caused by this fic."

That said, I'm getting a lot of reviews for this fic, lol! I'm glad everyone is enjoying it so much! Keep reviewing, it makes me write faster! And for all you lurkers out there, can you just take a few seconds to tell me what you think? I would appreciate it greatly!

Special thanks to the Lovely Lily, who beta'd for me, this time around.

Ok, I've babbled on enough for one night, On with the fic!

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Legolas sighed in frustration, and leaned on the rudder.

They had been at sea for two days now, and had lost sight of Valinor early that morning. Surely they must be far enough away by now, but Aragorn still had not appeared.

Having no idea where they were heading, and well aware that Middle Earth's geography had probably changed in the last six thousand years, Legolas decided to stay the course they were on.

Their supplies were quite limited, and even with their elven endurance, if they did not reach land within a week, they would become quite dehydrated. Two weeks, and they would probably die. Though, Elrohir had very helpfully pointed out that if they ran out of food, they could eat the dog.

'THAT will go over well with Faenrin!' He thought, while absently running his hands over the smooth surface of the rudder. He chuckled when he imagined trying to explain it to her, 'Faenrin, I'm sorry, we had to eat your dog. We would have starved to death if not for him, but he tasted great with some sea salt and a side of seaweed!'

Legolas resisted banging his head on the side of the ship, thinking he must have been at sea too long already. He sat down on the deck, and stared up at the stars, they looked a little different tonight, though Legolas couldn't quite place why.

He found himself remembering all the times he had stretched out on the ground with his daughter, and stared up at the stars. Two pairs of identical blue eyes gazing into the infinite, while Legolas told her the stories of each of the stars that he knew.

She would listen quietly, and ask questions occasionally, and they often just lay there in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's company.

He hoped that, wherever she was, she wasn't scared, lonely, cold or hungry. A tear trickled down his face, as he wished that she were there, in his arms, where he could protect her, like he promised.

Legolas rested his forehead on his knee, and took a shuddering breath. This was a parent's worst nightmare, and he was beginning to understand why Elrond and his own father had always fussed about he and Aragorn getting into so much trouble.

But, Aragorn was going to help them, now. That gave him a sense of well-being, just like it always used too. It always seemed that, no matter what trouble they got into, as long as Aragorn was there, things would turn out alright.

Not to mention, Aragorn had said Arwen was protecting all the elflings of Valinor, so Faenrin was probably alright, he just hoped she wasn't frightened without him there.

Legolas took another deep breath, and sighed. Perhaps it would be best if he tried not to think about his family, it would only drive him mad with worry and guilt.

Cell-hu wandered over from where he had been annoying Elrohir, and laid his head on Legolas' hand, looking up at him with soulful brown eyes. Legolas stroked the silky fur for a moment, taking comfort in the simple pleasure of the animal's familiar company. Then he flung his arms around Cell-hu's neck, and buried his face in the soft, white ruff of fur. Cell-hu seemed to understand his Master's need for comfort, so he sat stock still, and laid his long, slender nose Legolas' shoulder.

Cell-hu was of a breed of dog native to only Valinor, though a couple hundred years ago, a few human sailors were shipwrecked on the island, and wound up stealing several of the dogs for breeding purposes. Legolas absently wondered if the breed had survived, and if so, what mankind called it.

In Valinor, they were called Tereva Colla, roughly meaning Fine Vestments, in reference to their long silky fur, usually black or sable in color, and the thick white ruff around their necks.

Glorfindel had begun breeding them shortly after his arrival in Valinor, and finally perfected the breed after about 400 years. They were unusually intelligent, and very sweet and gentle. They were also incredibly long-lived, though that could be attributed to Valinor itself. Elrond had had one, called Merillach, for nearly 800 years.

Cell-hu had been a gift from Legolas' father, on the day Faenrin was born. The two had been inseparable companions ever since.

Legolas took a shuddering breath, and leaned back, scratching the dog behind the ears affectionately. "Maer hu," He murmured softly in the dog's ear, "Faenrin innas na-band, Im gwesto."

Cell-hu looked at him, cocking his head, and flicking his ears about, as though he understood every word Legolas said. Perhaps he did.

Legolas chuckled at the thought.

"Something funny, Mellon nin?"

Legolas looked up, straight into the warm grey eyes of the best friend he'd even had.

"Aragorn, you came back. We had begun to fear you wouldn't."

Aragorn smiled warmly, "Well, I am here. I ran into a little... trouble. But I will tell you about that later."

Cell-hu trotted over to Aragorn, and flopped down on the ground in front of him, rolling about on his back.

Legolas and Aragorn both chuckled at the animal's lack of dignity, and for a moment, they were back in Rivendell or Mirkwood, enjoying a glass of wine, and teasing each other mercilessly.

But, the present came crashing back into them, rather violently.

The starry sky above them clouded over suddenly, without any warning, and began to rumble ominously.

Cell-hu looked up at the pitch black clouds, and snarled threateningly, while Aragorn closed his eyes a moment, before cursing expressively in Dwarvish. "I will return in a moment with your answers, but first, get the dog below decks, and man the sails, mellon nin, you are in for a rough ride!"

With those last words, he vanished, leaving Legolas somewhat bewildered.

He got his answer quickly enough, when the wind picked up sharply, and the waves began to toss the little boat about, as though it were a childs toy..

"Yrch spit!" He shouted at no one in particular, as he hauled the dog down to the cabin, and awoke Elladan.

The older twin had been sleeping fitfully in an effort to combat his seasickness, but Legolas awoke him nonetheless.

"Wha... What is it, Legolas?"

"Get up, there is a terrible storm blowing in, we will need your help!"

~*~

Maer hu - Good dog

Faenrin inna na-band, im gwesto - Faenrin will be safe, I swear it.

Mellon nin - my friend

heh heh, oh how I LOVE cliffies :) and reviews! I LOVE LOVE LOVE reviews!!! *hint hint*

disclaimer: I don't own any of this, it all belongs to Tolkien, or his son, or whoever. I'm not making any money from this.

A/N: Well, I have been sick as a dog for the past two days, and I really hope it doesn't show up in my writing, lol! Well, it might, as you all know, misery loves company, so I might be slightly inclined to make certain elves miserable. Hey, you guys know you love it!

special thanks goes out to Elvensong, who beta'd for me this time, and curses go out to Trin, who STILL isn't back from vacation! *glares at annoying chick having fun while I'm here working my butt off*

ok ok, enough yakking for one night, on with the fic!

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"Get up, there is a terrible storm blowing in, we will need your help!"

Elladan groaned pitifully and rolled out of the bunk. His entire body ached and every time the ship moved, which was pretty much constantly, his stomach twisted into knots.

Staggering up the stairs behind Legolas, he shut the door on Cell-hu, who whined anxiously at being locked below decks in the tiny cabin.

As they reached the deck they could see Elrohir frantically battling the sails. The wind had picked up violently and was ripping them to shreds.

"Elladan, take the rudder, Elrohir and I will handle the sails!" Legolas shouted as he shimmied up the mast like a squirrel. Elrohir followed suit, with almost as much grace, and Elladan gratefully took the rudder.

As Legolas and Elrohir tied down the first sail, the black clouds above them opened up unleashing a heavy downpour upon the threesome.

Brushing his thick, dark hair back from his face, Elladan fought to keep the little ship from getting caught in the swiftly rising waves. The rudder seemed to be deliberately fighting him and it took all the considerable strength in his lean form to keep the boat on course. Above him, his twin and their longtime companion were trying to hold onto the mast while lightening cracked around them and the wind did it's very best to blow them off into the merciless ocean. Yet, even with his keen elven gaze, Elladan could not see what was coming directly for them.

With a sickening crack the ship collided with rocks hidden beneath the black waves, crumpling the prow into so much useless wood.

Legolas and Elrohir, caught unawares, were tossed from the mast and landed in the icy cold water far from the sight of Elladan and each other.

Elladan was granted a bit more luck as he was at the back of the ship and though he was thrown off his feet; he did not get tossed in with his companions.

Fighting against the elements that seemed to be directed at him, he slipped and slid his way toward the cabin.

Yanking open the door, he caught Cell-hu's collar and hauled him out.

As they cleared the doorway, a wave of massive proportions hit the ship sending dog and elf headlong into the elements. The last thing Elladan saw before the icy darkness overtook him was a figure clad in impossibly bright yellow rowing a boat out toward him.

~*~

Elrond shivered in the darkness, where he was huddled next to Celeborn, Glorfindel and Thranduil. His body ached from continuous abuse, but the pain in his heart was far worse.

They had been digging for what seemed like months now, though it had most likely only been a few days.

The last thing he remembered, he'd been helping Celebrian with their grandchildren and daughters-in-law, and then a thick black smoke had billowed around them blocking his entire family from his vision.

When he could see again, he was at the bottom of this black pit with no idea as to the whereabouts or well being of his family.

He reached up and fingered the heavy iron collar around his neck knowing to the depths of his soul it was more than mere iron, for his will was no longer entirely his own.

The 'Masters' ordered him about, and he simply obeyed without question, though he longed to defy them with every fiber of his being he found he simply could not.

Indeed, none of them could. Not even Glorfindel, who had defeated a balrog and returned from the Halls of Mandos by the strength of his own will.

The four of them were prisoners together, digging for Eru knew what like dwarves in the darkness. Their only light came from the rapidly diminishing glow of their elven bodies.

Elrond sighed and tried to get a little sleep while he could, letting his eyes drift out of focus.

Everything seemed so hopeless right now, but Elrond Peredhel had lived many ages and seen many things, and in that time, had accumulated great wisdom. He knew that just when the world seemed darkest, Hope would show its shining face.

He fiddled absently with the ring around the first finger on his left hand.

Barahir.

Legolas had brought it with him to Valinor when he left Middle Earth six thousand years ago and he had bequeathed it upon Elrond saying that Aragorn had felt the ring should go to the only father he had ever known.

'It was a reminder', he said, 'a reminder that even in the darkest night, there is still Hope.'

In the dim glow he could see it gleam, some of the detail worn off it through many centuries of wear, but no less beautiful than the day it had been created.

"Estel? Are you there, my son? If so, watch over our family tonight, protect them, as I cannot. Once upon a time, the hope of the entire world rested upon your shoulders, and you bore it well. I am placing my hope in you now. Help us, whatever this evil is, help us defeat it, or all will be lost forever." The words were barely a whisper on his parched lips, but in his heart he felt somehow comforted.

He settled back, leaning comfortably against Glorfindel, and dozed off gently.

His last thought, before drifting away to a world where he was free and at peace, was of Hope, shining through the murky black once again.

~*~*~*~

Cliffie anyone? Oh how I LOVE tormenting you wonderful people! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!

ok, NEXT chapter, some wet elves, an annoyed dog, the first glimpse of modern civilization, and the mystery deepens!!!

I'll probably post it on sunday, because I *gasp* have a date on saturday! Wish me luck!

~*~

disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters or settings. They all belong to the Tolkien Estate. No harm is intended, no am I making any money from this pitiful endeavor.

A/N: ugh, this took me forever to write, it was a frustrating chappie, *curses writers block*

Anyways, it's un-beta'd, so forgive me any errors.

>>Manwe's spell/riddle was written by the ultra-talented Gwyn, I take no credit whatsoever for it.

Anyways, my apologies for the lateness, but please review anyways. Reviews make me happy :)

there are also some language barriers in this chappie, so I decided that everything spoken in elvish will be encased in // these //, to avoid confusion on my readers part. Lord knows the elves are confused enough *smirk*

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The first thing Elrohir became aware of was something sharp being jabbed into his right side repeatedly.

Instinctively, he rolled over, and grabbed at the object poking him, only to come nose to nose with a small human boy holding a stick.

The lad's eyes were a brilliant blue, and about as big as saucers. He backed away, stammering something in a language Elrohir couldn't understand, then ran out of the room.

He took stock, quickly determining that, while sore, he wasn't really injured, and sat up. He was in some sort of room with many small windows all the way around, on a strange looking couch of some sort. It was covered in an odd sort of fabric that wasn't fabric at all, but shiny, and decorated in a hideous pattern of green and yellow flowers.

"I see you're awake." A nice looking middle aged woman walked into the room, carrying a steaming mug in her hands.

Elrohir was startled by her attire, or lack thereof. She was wearing some sort of short trousers made of a heavy blue fabric, and a white sleeveless tunic. She wore no shoes, and appeared to be perfectly comfortable that way. The younger twin watched her through narrowed, suspicious eyes, and tried to figure out what she was saying to him.

"That was one heck of a storm last night, you're lucky husband found you! We would have taken you to a hospital, until we saw them ears of yours." She reached out, and gently touched the tip of one of Elrohir's delicately tapered ears, "You were mumbling in your sleep, so we figured you couldn't be hurt too bad, so we brought you home."

Elrohir shook his head, confused by the woman's chatter. She put the mug in his hands, he lowered his face to sniff the suspicious looking liquid inside.

"S'just coffee." She said, while bustling about the little room, picking odd and end items. When she found the stick lying on the floor, she glanced out the door, and muttered something unintelligable under her breath.

Elrohir decided that whatever was in the mug, it wasn't poisonous, so he took a sip. Then he promptly spat it back in the cup, grimacing at the bitter taste.

//"What IS this?"// He asked, indignantly.

She blinked at the unfamiliar tongue, and knelt in front of him. "Can you understand me?" She asked, speaking slowly.

//"I cannot understand you."// He spoke equally slowly.

The woman sighed, getting an idea of where this was going. Placing a hand on her chest, she said "Nina." Then looked at him expectantly.

Elrohir got the idea immediately. Placing his hand on his own chest, he said "Elrohir", then he placed his hand over hers, and said "Nina," with a slightly flirtatious smile.

"El...royer?" She tried out his name, tripping over the unfamiliar syllables.

Elrohir shook his head, smiling and corrected her speaking each syllable slowly and clearly, "El-Roh-Hir."

"Elrohir."

He nodded his approval, and looked around himself, gesturing to indicate two more like him.

Her brow furrowed a moment, then she shook her head in confusion, clearly not understanding what he wanted.

He sighed, and buried his face in his hands. Nina patted him on the back sympathetically, and left the room, obviously uncomfortable.

Elrohir sat on the couch a moment longer, before rising purposefully, and looking around for his missing boots.

He walked barefoot through the door, and into some sort of kitchen. Nina smiled at him, and he pointed at his bare feet mutely.

She laughed, and pulled his boots from behind a door, and handed to them.

Elrohir sat on the floor, and pulled them on, wincing at some soreness in his back.

Then he rose gracefully, looking for the exit. When he couldn't find one immediately, he simply opened a window, and hopped out, much to Nina's shock.

She ran to the window, and looked out, watching him walk toward the shore, scratching at the back of his neck.

He found the shore easily enough, all he had to do was follow his nose. The scent of it was thick on the air. He then walked up and down the shoreline, searching for his twin, and Legolas.

It took him hours, but eventually he found Legolas sprawled out on a rock, with Cell-hu in his arms.

The rock was surrounded by water, so Elrohir was forced to wade out to his companion. Grabbing him by the arm, he gave Legolas a gentle shake. "Come mellon nin, we are stranded in a strange land."

Legolas groaned. "I know. Some man in a boat with some sort of loud machine on the back nearly ran me over this morning. But I found Cell-hu!"

The dog thumped his tail once at the sound of his name, but otherwise didn't move.

"Is he alright?" Elrohir looked at the animal in concern.

"I think he's just tired. Would you pick him up please, he weighs a ton!"

Elrohir chuckled at the exasperation in his friends voice, and hefted the dog, wincing as his back screamed at the added weight. Cell-hu squirmed in his arms, so Elrohir set the dog down in the knee deep surf, and helped Legolas off the rock.

Together, the three of them made their way to the shore, and prepared to look for Elladan.

"Wait a moment, mellyn nin!"

The sound of the familiar voice made them both jump, and turn around.

"Aragorn!" Elrohir resisted the urge to fling his arms around the insubstantial form of his long dead brother. "What took you so long!"

"My apologies, I had to convince Melkor you are dead."

"What?!" Legolas' eyes very nearly popped out of his head.

"Oh yes, that's the only way he would stop chasing you four."

"Four?" Elrohir's brow furrowed in confusion.

Aragorn pointed at the dog, who thumped his tail happily, and stretched out in the warm sand at their feet. "Cell-hu is an old friend, especially of Legolas, perhaps when all is said and done, his true identity will be revealed. Eru sent him to help you."

"So, Eru is helping us. Wait, Melkor?" It was too much information, Elrohir's head was spinning. He plopped down on the sand, and cradled his aching head in his hands.

Legolas sat beside him, "Aragorn, my friend, I think you need to start at the very beginning."

Aragorn grinned, "I suppose so. I got very used to you knowing more than me, it's strange that I'm the wise one now." He laughed, his grey eyes sparkling merrily.

"I know you are wondering what has happened, so I will tell you the short version of the story. Melkor has happened."

"But I thought the Valar cast him into the void ages ago!" Legolas' voice was distressed, causing Cell-hu to run over and lay his elegant head on Legolas' knee.

"They did, but Melkor is entirely evil. He has been feeding on the evil of mankind for millenia now! Recently, there has been a surge in that evil, mankind is a deeply corrupted race now, with no regard for one another any longer." Aragorn looked saddened by this news, and indeed, it must have been difficult for him to see a once great race crumble into immorality and corruption.

"Melkor fed upon that evil, and gained a great deal of power faster than any of us, even Illuvatar himself knew! The Dark One has locked the Valar, the Maia, and Illuvatar in the Halls of Time, only Spirit Guides, such as myself, can get in and out now."

"How is that possible?" Elrohir was confused, "How can a lock that is strong enough to hold the Valar let you through?"

Aragorn smiled, "Think of it like a chain. To make a chain strong, you need to make the links large, but then small things can slip through the large links."

"Oh."

"As I was saying, while Melkor was casting the spell that would lock them in, Manwe cast a spell of his own. In it are all the answers we need to unlock the Halls of Time, and release the Valar. Once released, they can destroy Melkor, for he was only able to defeat them this time by taking them by surprise."

"What was the spell?" Legolas looked ready to fight Melkor with his bare hands, if nessecary.

"Residing in the Elements

Of sea and sky and fire

The hidden light of Valinor

Whose source, destroyed by Melkor's ire.

"One guides the children through the day

And in the night, a sign

The others' fate became demise

Completing Feanor's line.

"But that the seven brothers,

At last, in death divided

They were not quite defeated

Would be someday reunited

"Though one still shines and one still burns

The leader of the seven

Did give his life to hide the one

To quench the evil fire

"The sacrifice of perfect love

A mother and unborn

Shall flood a tarnished world with red

And mend an Arda torn

"Friends of old, and song and lore

By time and tide were parted

Shall meet again, the King who healed

And complete a quest once started.

"And when at last the circumstance

Should make the time aright

The Halls of Time shall open up

And release the Valar might!"

"What does it mean?" Elrohir looked at Aragorn, hoping for answers.

"Alas, I don't know. Parts of it, I understand. The second to last verse, I think, refers to us. And I believe that parts of it refer to the Silmaril, though I'm not for sure on any this." Aragorn's tone was apologetic.

"Listen now, I cannot linger here any longer, find Elladan, tell him the spell. Do you remember it?"

Legolas recited it, word for word.

"Good, then I will go now. Remember, Melkor has all of Valinor enslaved. Every other elf in the world is digging for something in a place called 'Iceland'. I'm not sure what Melkor searches for, but pray he does not find it. I will return when I can, in the meantime, I will send messengers, for I am not the only Spirit Guide working against Melkor.

"He does not see us as a threat, and so does not stop our comings and goings. You three are Middle Earth's only hope. Solve the riddle, make it happen, save us all. Good luck!"

With that, he vanished.

~*~

disclaimer: I don't own any of this. I'm not making any money.

A/N: Whoa, sorry this took so long. Again. *bangs head on desk* I've been quite ill these past few weeks. Anyways, I'm starting to feel better again, so, I'll try to post more often. No guarantees though.

Many people have guessed that Cell-hu might be Gimli, and I can tell you right now he is not. Gimli is the one member of the fellowship you can be certain won't be making a cameo in this fic, simply because Dwarves have a fate different from men and elves and the rest.

They sleep beneath the earth, awaiting for this world to be destroyed, then Aule will wake them up and they will help build the second Arda. So sorry for all you Gimli fans out there!

Special thanks to Eleni for beta'ing, I appreciate it!

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Elladan awoke with a pounding headache. He groaned, and rolled over in an attempt to hide from the bright light that assailed him.

"Elrondion."

He blinked at the unfamiliar voice, but tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. Of course, the voice wouldn't allow that.

"Elrondion."

It was a sweet, dusky voice. Very feminine, he found he rather liked the sound of it. With a sigh, Elladan rolled over, and took in the speaker.

He was surprised to see a maiden with long dark hair, and smoky grey eyes. At first he thought it was his long-dead sister, Arwen, but upon closer inspection, he realized that this maiden surpassed even the Evenstar in loveliness.

Her features were finely carved, as though a master sculptor had molded them from clay in an effort to create the perfect beauty. She had large grey eyes, set a perfect distance apart beneath the lovely arch of her eyebrows. High cheekbones defined those striking eyes, and her slightly upturned nose. Her mouth was full, and the color of spring roses, with perfect lips for kisssing.

As Elladan studied her intently, he realized those sumptuous lips were turned up in smothered laughter. "Who are you?"

"You do not know me?"

He shook his head mutely, taken in by her beauty. "No, Fair One. Tell me your name, that I may. Please." He added the 'please' at the end almost as an afterthought, for he found himself without a single coherent thought in his head.

The maiden laughed aloud this time, her silvery eyes twinkling merrily. "It has been long since a fellow elf looked at me with such eyes, Elrondion. Sadly, I am wed to another, not to mention, you and I are related."

Elladan blinked, and he finally realized who she was. "You are the Lady Luthien Tinuviel, you are one of my ancestors!" With the realization of the maiden's identity, came a rather strange awareness of his surroundings.

He was reclining on a pile of pillows, in a room that seemed to be made of light. Music echoed from somewhere in the distance, and a stream rippled and danced over rocks worn smooth by time.

She laughed again, a lovely musical sound. Elladan could see how she won Beren's love so easily. "Yes I am, and I come bearing a gift for you, for Aragorn Elessar forgot an important detail when he made contact with your brother and the Prince Legolas. He forgot that none of you speak the language of these people."

Elladan nodded, trying to look as though he knew what she was talking about, when in fact he had absolutely no clue. "Where am I?"

"Inbetween," She said simply, as though it were of little importance. "Listen carefully, for my time is short. You must seek out Elrohir and Legolas, they have information important to your quest. To you, and you alone will I impart my gift, so they will have need of you, as well. As you know, I am the daughter of the Maiar Melian, as such, I am heir to certain...talents. I must be careful, for the Enemy does not feel threatened by those Spirit Guides who were once human, but He watches Arwen Evenstar and myself closely."

"Who is this enemy, milady?" Elladan attempted to press her for more information, she only shook her head.

"There is not time, Elrondion. I must cast my spell and leave, before He finds me, and by extension you. Right now He thinks you dead, and you are safe to carry out your quest in relative anonymity. Remember, He has spies everywhere, trust your senses, you will know if someone is a servant of the enemy."

With those final words, she placed a hand on his chest. Though he could not physically feel her touch, he was still very aware of her delicate fingers pressed against his breastbone.

Closing her eyes, she whispered several words he couldn't make out, then she looked up at him and smiled angelically.

"We will not meet again Elrondion. Good luck on your quest, I have many innocents to protect, and cannot help you further. My thoughts and prayers go with you, though. Namaarie." With those final words, her fair form dissapated like smoke on a windy afternoon, leaving Elladan somewhat bewildered.

Feeling overwhelmed, and exhausted, Elladan lay back down, and let his eyes drift closed.

~*~

"Hey!"

Rough hands shook him carelessly, and he turned over, trying to escape the being that sought to bring him out of the soothing darkness.

"Come on, fella! You gotta wake up, I ain't gonna carry you all the way to the house."

Elladan mumbled something impolite under his breath, and swatted at the hands in irritation. They persisted however, and Elladan rolled over on the sand, squinting against the sun. "What?"

The human smiled in obvious relief. "I thought you were a goner for sure! Come on, let's get you inside and cleaned up!"

He rose, and helped Elladan to his feet, supporting the somewhat wobbly elf as he staggered along drunkenly.

The man was short, he only came to Elladan's shoulder, but he was well built nonetheless. He had a face full of whiskers, and unruly dark hair. In the corner of his mouth was some sort of pipeweed rolled up in paper, with smoke curling up from the glowing tip.

Elladan winced at the pungent smell of the smoke, but otherwise tolerated it.

The pair stumbled along in silence, until they reached a small shack about 200 yards away from the waterfront.

The human yanked open the door, and helped the sopping wet elf indoors. "Here, take off those wet clothes, I'll loan you some of mine." The man spoke gruffly, before reaching around a corner, and producing a towel. "Dry off."

Elladan pulled his tunic over his head, and dropped it with a wet plop on the floor, then dried off his muscular chest with the towel.

The human had disappeared again, Elladan could hear him muttering somewhere towards the back of the shack. When he reappeared, he had some clothing in his hands, he shoved them towards Elladan without a word, then gathered up the elf's wet things, and hung them over the railing on the porch.

"You hungry?"

Elladan looked up from where he was attempting to adjust the clothes so they fit better. The trousers were of a strange stiff fabric, and about six inches too short, and the tunic had no sleeves at all, and smelled of some sort of ale. He wrinkled his nose, and sighed.

"No, thank you."

"Well I am." The human walked into another room, and Elladan could hear various pots and pans clanking. Curious, he followed.

The room appeared to be some sort of kitchen and was filled with many devices Elladan did not recognize, nor could he fathom any use for. Such as the peculiar looking box with a door and several knobs, and another small box with two slits in the top, and some sort of lever on the side.

Curious, he fiddled with it, jumping backwards when the box began to radiate heat and smoke.

"Sheesh Kid!" The human yanked a long rope from the wall, and the box stopped smoking. "Ain't you ever seen a toaster before?"

Elladan shook his head, startled by the human's actions. "No, I have not."

"Oh. Well, where are you from, what's yer name?"

"Elladan."

"Funny name. Mind if I call ya Dan?"

Elladan shook his head mutely.

"I'm Logan. So what were you doing out there in the middle of the ocean during a summer squall like that?"

"It's....hard to explain." Elladan avoided Logan's gaze, and studied the kitchen intently.

"Fair enough. Are you one'a them illegal immigrants? Floating up from Cuba or something?"

Elladan shook his head again, "I am not from...Cuba."

"No, you don't sound Cuban. Don't know how a Cuban would float up to Maine anyways."

"Is that where I am? Maine?" Elladan latched onto the name of his location with the desperation of a drowning man. He was somewhat dazed, and unable to think clearly. Somewhere in the back of his mind was his family, and the need to protect them. He also knew he needed to find his brother and Legolas, but just now, he was overwhelmed by the strange world he had washed up in.

"Yeah. Yer in Maine." Logan studied his guest. The kid was pale, and looked confused, overwhelmed, and exhausted. "Listen, Dan, why don'tcha go take a nap, I got a spare bed in the back. Yer safe enough here, I won't turn ya in."

Elladan nodded, and made his way back toward the spare bed. As he collapsed onto the pile of blankets and pillows, he sighed deeply and drifted off almost immediately.

As his eyes stilled, and lost their focus, one last thought occurred to him.

The language he had been speaking was one he had never heard before.

~*~

Digging digging digging.

Like a damn dwarf, that's all he ever did anymore was dig.

Thranduil leaned against the wall a moment, and studied his fellow prisoners.

Celeborn, Elrond and Glorfindel were all in similar states of exhaustion, their 'masters' drove them day and night with hardly a moments rest.

They all stopped a moment, and took a breather, staring at each other in the dim light.

"How are we ever going to escape this?" Celeborn's voice was weary, and there was an underlying current of fear that Thranduil had never before heard from his kinsman.

Shaking his head, Glorfindel answered. "I know not, mellon nin."

Just then, footsteps echoed off the cavern walls, indicating someone was coming to check their progress.

The four exhausted elf lords hefted their shovels and pickaxes and continued working.

"Have you found it yet?" The voice was little more than a hiss, the remnant of a tortured soul held captive by the power of a ring no longer in existance.

Thranduil had been horrified to see that the Nazgul were somehow ressurrected, but he could not speak to ask how. Through the iron collar about his neck, he was controlled like the puppets his granddaughter loved to play with.

Elrond was chosen to speak for them, and he shook his head. "If you told me what we were looking for..."

"Silence!"

Elrond's jaw snapped shut instantly, and his smoky eyes blazed in impotent fury for a moment, before despair filled them again.

"You will know when you find it." With those final words, the twisted soul before them turned and left, and the foursome continued their enforced labor.

Thranduil sighed as he hefted the pickaxe, and swung it forward with all the strength he could muster in his failing form. It connected with a loud clang, and suddenly a brilliant white light filled the room.

Startled, the former Elven King fell backwards, landing on his rump with a dull thud.

Silently, all four elves took in the sight before them, a sight Elrond had not seen since he was an elfling, and Thranduil had never seen at all.

"Silmaril," The word was little more than a whisper on Celeborns lips as he reached his hand out for it.

As his fingers brushed it, a darkness filled the cave. Darkness that filled every crevice, wiping out the glow of their elven bodies, and even the light of the silmaril.

Into that darkness the four elf lords tumbled helplessly.

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Cliffie anyone? *cackles* Oh how I love torturing you guys.

Again, sorry this took so long, I'll try to update more often, really! Ok, next chappie might be out by Saturday, if not, I dont' know when. I move on Sunday into a new dorm room, then school starts next week. So it might be a while, but never fear, I AM working on it!

ok, next chappie: That wet dog smell (for real this time) Elladan looks for his twin, and our heroes finally try to figure out what needs to be done.

disclaimer: I don't own any of this, it all belongs to Mr. Tolkien. I'm not making any money.

A/N: Sorry this took so long guys, I'm exhausted from school and can hardly keep up! This chappie is a little shorter than I would like, I'll try to make the next one a little longer.

Special thanks to the Lovely and Talented Eleni for beta'ing.

please note that in the portions of this chapter that takes place among mortals, // // is elvish.

Ok, no more chatter, on with the fic!

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Darkness surrounded him.

It enveloped him body and soul. In fact, it seemed as though the emptiness and the darkness were becoming a part of his very being.

Thranduil opened his sapphire eyes slowly, gazing at his prison for the first time. He was not alone, Celeborn, Glorfindel and Elrond were all present.

None of them were bound, at least, not with any ropes Thranduil could see. The room was jet black, the only light in the room came from the open door across from him.

Though none of the Elf Lords were physically restrained in any manner, none of them moved toward the opening. They just stared straight ahead, as though lost in despair.

As Thranduil stared apathetically at the door, he caught a glimpse of ebony hair. He squinted, and waited patiently. Soon, the hair appeared again, this time accompanied by a head.

Smoky grey eyes twinkled at him, and bell-like laughter echoed through the emptiness of the room, and danced through his barren soul.

The sound of the maiden's mirth warmed a heart frozen by pure evil, and snapped the Elven King free from his invisible bonds.

Celeborn, Elrond and Glorfindel still did not move, it was as though they didn't see him, or each other. They certainly didn't seem to hear the maiden who now whispered his name from the wide open doorway.

Filled with uncertainty, Thranduil rose from his cramped position on the floor, and stepped forward, slowly crossing the room.

The maiden continued to call his name, her eyes twinkling, and her slender arms beckoning him fervently.

Picking up his pace, Thranduil stepped to the doorway, and stood just inside it, feeling suddenly trepiditious about leaving the safety of the prison.

She beckoned him again, reaching for him joyfully, extolling him to just cross the threshold.

With a start, Thranduil recognized the maiden, Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond, and Queen of Gondor.

The wheels started turning in his shrewd mind as he wondered why she would call to him, and not Elrond, or Celeborn, for they were her kin. Even Glorfindel made more sense, for she had known the Balrog-Slayer from birth.

Suddenly certain that leaving the room wasn't a good idea, Thranduil took a step backward, only to find himself swept forward by a great, howling wind. Before he could stop himself, the former Elven King was floating six feet in the air outside the dark room, supported by the wind.

"I have no more time to play games with you, Oropherion. I bear a message, do not lose hope, for salvation will come when the Harpist rejoins his kin. You have neither been forsaken, or forgotten." Her silvery eyes flashed with a strange combination of temper and humor.

"What do you mean? Explain yourself!" He sounded very much the elven king, but the effect was ruined by his very undignified position floating in mid-air.

"There is not time, I was sent to give you hope, for you are the only one with strength of will to motivate your companions. I cannot reach them, and so I am charging you with keeping my family alive, for I am not in a position to protect them. I must go now, have faith, and do not lose hope!" With those last words, her fair form faded away, and Thranduil again found himself cloaked in darkness.

But this time, it did not seem so very dark.

~*~

Elladan rolled over, and grunted.

His mouth felt as though it were filled with cotton. He vaguely wondered what it was about Middle Earth that inspired that feeling in elves. The last time he'd felt this way, Aragorn had gotten he and his brother drunk on ale.

Sighing, the rather sore elf climbed out of the bed, and wandered into the front room.

Logan was sitting on the porch, still puffing on his peculiar 'pipeweed', and staring out at the sea.

Elladan came forward and placed a hand on the shorter man's shoulder, Logan didn't turn around, but gestured out to the shoreline. "Friends of yours?"

Elladan blinked, and followed where he was pointing.

Sure enough, Elrohir and Legolas were sitting side by side on the beach looking at the shack and Logan with inscrutible expressions.

Cell-hu was the first to notice Elladan's presence, and bounded joyfully across the short yard. He didn't stop when he reached the porch, but leapt over Logan, who dove out of the way, and knocked Elladan over unceremoniously.

Wincing, as the very wet, very smelly dog proceeded to slurp his face joyfully, Elladan shoved the animal out of the way, and greeted his missing companions with almost as much enthusiasm as Cell-hu had shown.

The brothers hugged one another fiercely, before dragging a slightly unwilling Legolas into the warm hug.

//"How did you find me? Are you hurt? Have you seen Aragorn?"// The questions spilled out of Elladan's mouth faster than Elrohir could keep up.

//"Stopstopstop, enough!"// Elrohir laughed, and released his older brother with a last warm squeeze. //"We found your human friend over there. He saw me walking on the shore, and kept calling me 'Dan'. After I said your name a few times, he seemed to realize I wasn't you, and took us to where you were sleeping."//

//"Why didn't you wake me?"// Elladan's brow furrowed in confusion.

//"We tried, but you were dead to the world,"// Legolas chuckled. //"We decided to let you sleep, since we couldn't wake you anyway."//

Elladan rolled his eyes, and turned to his twin, who was trying to keep Cell-hu from putting his rather long nose in a rather inappropriate place on Logan's person.

The human laughed, and shoved the dog away, "Nice dog, Dan. I assume you know these guys?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you for finding them for me, and they wish to thank you for finding me as well." Elladan bowed slightly, and smiled.

"Tell then they're quite welcome. You guys hungry?"

Elrohir and Legolas watched all of this with wide eyes, //"You speak their tongue?"//

Elladan nodded, //"It's a rather long story, I'll happily tell you inside. Logan here,"// He placed a hand on the man's shoulder.//"...Has offered to cook a meal for us."//

Exchanging a look, they agreed wordlessly, and followed Logan and Elladan into the house, leaving a rather depressed looking Cell-hu sitting alone on the front porch.

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Weeeeee! They're all back together again!!! Now, maybe they can get down to business.

Ok, next chapter comes out... someday. You can expect elf lord torture, some elven confusion, and Elladan learns to line dance! (just kidding on that last one, I doubt that will happen, but it would be funny, wouldn't it!)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, it all belongs to Tolkien. I'm not making any money.

A/N: Wow, someday really was a long time, sorry I took so long guys!

I just want to add here that the, uhm, torture at the end of the chappie is SB's fault, so attack her, not me.

The language barrier has been removed, in that Elladan speaks english now, so when he speaks with Legolas and Elrohir, they are speaking elvish, and if he speaks to anyone in our world, he's speaking english.

There's also a brief flashback, which I will go into in further detail in future chappies, it's denoted quite clearly, (in a fashion that annoys Cathy, I apologize, I just felt it worked best in this situation, please ignore it as best your able)

Ok, I'm done rambling, on with the fic!

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Three days had passed since Elladan had been reunited with Legolas and Elrohir. They had exchanged information quickly, and found themselves even more confused than before.

A riddle, help from long-dead companions and relations, and the apparent return of Melkor. They all added up to something, and Elladan was certain that Manwe's spell was the key.

Logan had been most kind, and allowed the three elves to stay in his house, making no comment whatsoever about their strange appearance. Their delicately tapered ears and strange clothing didn't seem to faze him at all. He merely made no comment about the ears, and loaned them some of his clothes.

For the past three days, they had rested up after their harrowing ordeal, and tried to figure out the Spell. Legolas had written it down on some paper that Logan supplied, with a rather ingenious writing instrument.

It wasn't a quill, but was made of some sort of flexible white material, and the ink was kept inside it, so there was no dipping and no spilling. Logan had called it a 'pen', and Elrohir in particular, was rather taken with the instrument.

He spent hours absently doodling on everything within reach, books, scraps of writing paper, even napkins made not from cloth, but paper (which Elladan found rather strange). Things finally went too far when, in his search for drawing material, Elrohir found a book made entirely of a strange, shiny paper, with no covers. Inside, there were startlingly realistic images of completely nude females in a variety of positions. Logan was quite unhappy when he found Elrohir calmly drawing clothing on each and every maiden, and managed to express his displeasure even with the language barrier between them.

It was then that he introduced the threesome to what he called a 'TV', a small black box, with glass in the middle. When a button on it is pushed, images and sound appear on it. It rather reminded Elladan of a palantir, and made him nervous at first, until Logan explained that it was quite harmless.

Which brought him to where he was now; staring at the TV, Spell in hand, trying to decipher it and watch 20/20 at the same time.

Logan sat behind him, puffing away at his ever present pipeweed (which he had informed Elladan was called a cigarette).

Elladan was only halfway listening to the program, and absently mumbling the lines of the spell over and over to himself, Legolas and Elrohir had gone outside, and were sparring with each other on the beach.

These three days of inactivity were starting to wear on them, they were worried about their families and friends, and with no word whatsoever from Aragorn or anyone else for that matter, Legolas was beginning to have difficulty sitting still.

Thankfully, Elrohir could always be counted upon for a good tussle. When Anni was in labor with Faenrin, he and Elrohir had spent most of the time sparring with swords, daggers, staffs, and, when Elrond got fed up and took all their weapons away from them, they resorted to dueling with dandilions.

Currently, there were no dandilions to be found, so they were simply wrestling like elflings. Elladan watched them a moment, before chuckling softly and turning his attention back to the spell in his hand.

""Residing in the Elements / Of sea and sky and fire / The hidden light of Valinor / Whose source, destroyed by Melkor's ire." He muttered softly to himself as he mulled over the first verse. Suddenly, it clicked in his mind, "The silmaril! It's a silmaril!"

"What?" Logan gave his unusual house guest a strange look, as the elf leapt out of the chair he had been draped over and burst out the front door.

"Elrohir, Legolas! It's the silmaril!"

"What is?" Legolas looked up from where he had Elrohir caught in a headlock.

Elrohir used his opponents momentary distraction to slip free of his grip, and flipped Legolas onto the ground, straddling his chest. Legolas grunted in frustration as he tried to dislodge the heavier elf from his chest.

"Valar, Elrohir! I swear your human blood makes you twice as heavy as any other elf in Arda!"

Elrohir merely snorted in response, and looked at his twin, "Now what are you shouting about?"

The older twin was fairly jumping up and down in excitement, "It's the silmaril! That's the answer to the riddle, at least the first part of it!"

"Are you sure?" Legolas gave Elladan a skeptical look, though his current position rendered it rather ineffective.

"Yes, listen: Residing in the Elements / Of sea and sky and fire / The hidden light of Valinor Whose source, / destroyed by Melkor's ire. That's the silmarils! All three of them, one is in the air, with Daer-Adar Earendiil, one was with Maedhros when he jumped into the fiery chasm, and the last was supposedly tossed in the sea by Maglor."

Elrohir exchanged a look with Legolas, and climbed off his chest. "Let me see."

Taking the paper from Elladan's hand, he mulled over the first verse. "It does make sense, especially when coupled with the next two verses. The second one refers to where they are now, and the third and fourth speaks of Feanor's sons. What have you made of the fifth, though?"

Elladan shook his head, "The sacrifice of perfect love / A mother and unborn / Shall flood a tarnished world with red / And mend an Arda torn? I'm not exactly sure. A pregnant woman shall flood the world with blood? I have no answers there, I'm afraid. But I agree with Aragorn's assessment of the sixth, it does refer to us, and him, and the last simply says if all these things come to pass, then Melkor's hold on the Halls of Time will be broken, and the Valar will destroy him."

"Where do we go from here, then?" Legolas shook some sand from his long, golden hair. "How are we supposed to locate a Silmaril?"

"Uh..." Elladan gave the prince a blank look, which was perfectly mirrored by his twin.

Exasperated, Legolas threw his hands up in the air, and stalked into the house. "So we are no further than we were BEFORE you solved the spell, is that correct?"

"Well...he DID solve the spell." Elrohir supplied helpfully.

Legolas silently rolled his eyes, and flopped down on the couch, giving Logan a rather underserved dark look. "We haven't really accomplished anything, Elrohir."

Elladan sighed, and sat down beside Legolas. Silently, all three elves turned their attention to the TV. Logan, who was used to them arguing in their own language by now, merely shifted in his seat to better see the TV.

On 20/20, Barbara Walters was doing a piece about transient singers in some city called New York.

Elladan cocked his head as the camera zoomed in on a male with long, reddish hair, and delicate features. His brow furrowed, as he tried to figure out why this man looked so familiar.

Elrohir was doing the same, he was certain he had seen that face before, somewhere.

Legolas simply grunted, "That man looks almost like an elf."

His comment rung through the room, echoing through Elrohir's ears. .

//flashback//

"Ada, wait!" Elrohir's short legs struggled to keep up with his father.

Laughing, Elrond scooped up his younger son. "Come my son, someone is here at the door to meet us!"

Elrohir chortled in delight, and swung his chubby legs gleefully. "Presents?"

He, of course, associated visitors with the many friends of Elrond's who had shown up since the twins' birth 8 years before. They often brought presents for the elflings, and congratulations to Elrond and Celebrian.

"I don't know, Elrohir. Maybe," Elrond chuckled. He still found himself frequently enchanted by his sons' chubby cheeks, and bright grey eyes, and the way their little cupid's bow lips pursed just so.

Elrond settled the toddler on his hip, and pulled open the door.

His mouth dropped open in shock, standing before him was an elf with long, reddish hair. His clothes were ragged, and he carried no visible weapons, only a harp slung over his shoulder.

"Maglor?"

//end flashback//

~*~

Thranduil strained against his bonds.

He had been tied up for awhile now, his arms bound behind him to a metal post that rose up to his shoulderblades. Across the post was a crossbar, his elbows were stretched over it, and then tied beneath.

All in all, it was a most uncomfortable position, and Thranduil wished he had something to distract himself with. Time had lost all relevance here in this dark pit, the moments were disjointed, and made no sense. He truly had no idea how long he had been bound in this unpleasant fashion, but seemed like centuries.

His companions had long since given up struggling, only Thranduil continued on. Since his encounter with the former Queen of Gondor, his soul had been filled with hope, and though he tried to pass it on to her kinsman, they would have none of it. They seemed to wallow in the darkness, unable to do anything else.

Thranduil found himself confused by this, for they had all fought against the darkness long before he had been born. They had succumbed rather easily, in his opinion.

He'd tried everything to share the light Arwen had kindled in him with Elrond, Celeborn, and Glorfindel. He'd even tried cursing at them in every language he knew, and as King of Mirkwood, he had been required to know almost every dialect on Arda.

Sighing, he shifted his stance a little, trying to ease the strain on his aching shoulders, and prepared to try again.

As he opened his mouth to speak, a door on the far end of the chamber opened, and a single man, accompanied by two orcs appeared.

The orcs were carrying several large crates, they set them down, and stood quietly in the doorway.

The man continued to the center of the room alone. Squinting against the sudden light Thranduil tried to make out his features. They were unremarkable, dark hair cut close to his scalp, dark eyes, and a goatee decorated his chin. He was attractive, but not unusually so, and most decidedly human looking.

His dress was strange, he wore a simple white shirt with buttons up the front, and a narrow strip of silver cloth hung down his chest and stomach. Overtop, he wore a black jacket of sorts, that ended just below his hips. The odd ensemble was completed by long black trousers and unusually shiny black shoes.

Elrond, Celeborn and Glorfindel watched his progress silently, not making a single sound. Thranduil chose to speak for all of them. "Who are you. Why are you doing this to us?"

The strange man laughed, the sound sent chills down Thranduil's spine. "I want answers, my lords."

He spoke their titles mockingly, the taunt obvious. Thranduil chose to ignore it, "What answers do you seek from us? We are not the great Lords we once were, we have no knowledge of the world outside Valinor."

"Oh, I think you do." The man caught a strand of Celeborn's silver hair, and twirled it absently between his fingers, the former Lord of Lothlorien didn't move. "I'm interested in how you can resist me yet, Oropherion. These three have succumbed to my power, yet you do not. Why do you continue to hope for rescue? It will not come."

"It will, to give up hope is folly." Thranduil glared at the man, he was now beginning to understand who was tormenting them so. "You are the dark lord, aren't you. Not Sauron, but the one who came before, Melkor."

The man laughed again, Thranduil winced visibly as it echoed painfully through his skull.

"I am Melkor, I'm impressed you knew me, youngling." Melkor reached into one of the crates, and pulled out a strange looking object. "I have been studying humans these past few days, their history since I was cast into the Void. I have missed much, it seems."

Releasing Celeborns hair, Melkor walked across the room to where Glorfindel was bound. He raised the object into the dim light of the room so Thranduil got a good look at it.

It was simply a bar of iron, with a two pronged fork at either end, and attached to a leather collar by means of a short chain. Thranduil couldn't fathom any use for the strange item.

Seeing the confused expression on the Silvan elf's face, Melkor smiled, revealing a row of straight, white teeth. "This is called a 'heretics fork', it was used as a means of discovering 'witches' by humans, about 1500 years ago. Allow me to demonstrate it's use."

Melkor wrapped a hand around Glorfindel's golden hair, and yanked his head backwards, revealing a wide expanse of neck and chest. The balrog-slayer grunted in pain, and tried to pull away instinctively, but Melkor gave him no quarter.

He jammed one end of the fork directly into Glorfindel's sternum, Thranduil winced as he heard it actually imbed itself in the bone.

Glorfindel groaned, but was cut off as Melkor adjusted the angle of the fork, and forced captive's chin on the other end of it.

Thranduil lost sight of the Gondolin elf a moment, as Melkor neatly strapped the leather collar under the iron one Glorfindel still wore, but he could hear the elf gasping for breath, and grunting painfully.

When Melkor stepped back, Thranduil could only stare in shock. Glorfindel's head was now forcibly held up at such an angle it was nearly impossible for him to breathe, while blood trickled out of the painful looking wounds on his chest and chin.

"Now, you will tell me how you are managing to fight my power off so effectively, Elf." Melkor stood directly in front of Thranduil, so he could smell the foul odor that the Being emitted. "Tell me, or you will be subject to the same treatment."

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tbc... heh heh heh Reviews make me write faster!

disclaimer: I don't own any of this, I'm not making any money.

A/N: I want you to understand that, at this point, Legolas and the twins are about half a day ahead of Thranduil and crew. They will catch up to one another at the beginning of the next chapter, I think.

Special thanks goes to Abby, who helped me write the fight scene. Also thanks to Bill the Pony and Tux, who both beta'd for me. Appreciate it tons girls!!!

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Lightning flashed in the sky, briefly silhouetting the graceful figure perched in the large oak tree outside the seaside shack. Glittering eyes studied the building silently, waiting patiently for the opening necessary to accomplish the assigned task.

Unmoving, the figure watched as four masculine forms moved about the shack, until finally the lights went out.

Now was the time to act.

~*~

Legolas stretched out on the pile of old clothes that had served as his bed the past few days. Nearby, Elladan and Elrohir were already asleep in the bed they were sharing, silvery eyes half-lidded as they rested peacefully. As Legolas relaxed, waiting for sleep to overtake him, he listened to the sounds of Middle-earth.

Outside, the ocean rolled up to the shore, the primal rhythm of the waves melding with music of the wind, and the occasional rumble of thunder. As the thunder grew louder, it was joined by the lighter sound of rain pattering on the roof and windows, and the visual spectacle of lightning.

Legolas smiled, his mind drifting back in time to the stormy night he and his wife had chosen to conceive their daughter. His eyes began to lose focus as he dozed off with the memory of fiery red hair falling all around him, and the silky caress of her skin against his.

He was almost there, almost back in dreamland, where he could hold his wife all he wanted, when a terrible sense of impending doom struck him square in the chest. Blue eyes shot open just in time to see the flash of a dagger as it came down towards his vulnerable form. Acting on pure instinct, Legolas flipped over on his stomach as the blade landed with a soft thud in the pile of fabric where he had been laying.

He grabbed the dagger, and rolled to his feet in one fluid motion. It wouldn't be much help in a fight; it was slim, and weighted for throwing, not hand to hand combat, but it was the best weapon he had at the moment. Quickly scanning the room, Legolas located his would-be assassin crouching next to the twins' bed.

They regarded each other with almost identical expressions of shock, the assassin because she had been certain that knife would mortally wound her target, Legolas because, well, she was female.

She was petite and of a slender build, with waist length jet black hair pulled back from her face in a single long tail. Her dark eyes tilted up at the corners, marking her as one of Easterling descent. Clad entirely in black, her clothing clung to her figure, leaving little to the imagination. He couldn't help but admire her, for she was an exotic beauty, the kind that some of his fellow Elves who had traveled to Easterling territory had told tales of for centuries.

Legolas was only granted an instant to observe the woman though, for she lunged at him almost immediately, with a long slender sword aimed at his heart. Legolas parried her thrust deftly, catching the hilt of the dagger on her blade, and slid his weapon down towards her fingers. Her sword had no hand guard, so she was forced to release her weapon, or lose a digit or two. It clattered to the floor between them. Legolas kicked it deftly aside.

The girl didn't miss a beat, with a single fluid motion, she swept her right leg across his body in a graceful crescent kick. Her foot connected painfully with Legolas' knuckles, knocking his arm across his body, and sending the dagger spinning from his grip. It landed with a soft thunk on the bed, awaking the twins who both sat up, prepared for a fight.

Realizing she was outnumbered by opponents whom she had clearly underestimated, the assassin drove the heel of her hand into Legolas' jaw while he was still recovering from the crescent kick. Then she vanished out the front door, her tabi boots making no sound on the wooden floors.

Legolas followed in short order, leaving two slightly muddled twins still climbing out of bed. He reached the porch, and scoured the darkness for her with his sharp elven eyes. He saw no warrior maiden, however, only a hail of silver that flew at his face from out of the darkness.

Reacting instinctively, he flung his right arm up over his face, and was rewarded with fiery pain down his forearm, across his cheek and bare chest as the throwing stars embedded themselves in his tender flesh.

Grunting in pain, he yanked out the star that had lodged high on his cheek, nearly in his eye, and searched the night for his attacker.

She had vanished.

~*~

"Well?" Melkor leered in Thranduil's face, clearly enjoying his prisoner's discomfort.

Thranduil merely turned his head away, to escape the stench of the foul being's breath. "I don't know what it is you speak of."

Melkor smiled, and stepped away from the former elven king. "Very well, I can see that torturing you will have very little effect. I will simply have to try another tactic."

He turned his back on Thranduil and stepped in front of Elrond, who looked up at him through tangled locks of jet hair with weary eyes. "What is it you want, Melkor?"

"I merely wish to impart some information to you, Peredhel. You've led such a difficult life, do you ever wonder if Eru hates you?"

Elrond did not respond, he merely lowered his smoky eyes to the ground, and studied Melkor's overly shiny shoes.

"When I think of all you've suffered..." Melkor sighed, an exaggerated expression of his 'sorrow'. Thranduil had to resist rolling his eyes, there was no reason to provoke the former Valar.

"Your brother died, chose mortality. You'll never see him again, will you? What of your daughter? What was her name, Arwen? Lovely creature, pity she chose mortality as well. Both of them, long dead, never to be seen again." Melkor caressed Elrond's cheek gently, but the Elf Lord yanked his head away from the Ainur's touch.

"What about your parents? They're dead, you know, and Celebrian as well, she suffered so greatly at the hands of the orcs." Melkor tsked, resting his hand on Elrond's shoulder, as he tried to fight back the sobs that threatened.

"What do you mean my parents are dead? I know for a fact they are not! Celebrian lives as well, I saw her just a few days ago!"

Melkor smirked, and reached into his pocket, producing a pair of jewels that lit up the room with their brilliance. The orcs that guarded the door shielded their eyes from the light even as Elrond stared at them.

"This is the silmaril you and your companions so kindly recovered for me recently," He held up one jewel in his right hand, and the other in his left. "This one, I took from your father's forehead, after I slit his throat."

Elrond groaned, fighting the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. "No..."

"Oh yes, and your sons are dead as well, Peredhel. Lost at sea, how very tragic." Melkor chuckled, "Perhaps they are with the third silmaril!"

"No!" Thranduil could hold his tongue no longer, "They live! I know they do, Elrond, do not give up hope!"

Melkor turned his attention to the former Elven King once again, pocketing the silmarils as he strode across the room to stand in front of the struggling Elf. "How do you know this?"

Thranduil ceased his struggles, and met Melkor's jet black eyes with his defiant blue, "You have many enemies, Morgoth. You will fail, just as you have before."

Melkor struck him across the cheek with the back of his hand, "Tell me how you know those worthless peredhil live? I want to know!"

Thranduil let his dirty blonde hair fall around his face, and glared up at the primeval being. "I know, I know it for a fact! They live, and you will die."

"I want to know HOW you know, Oropherion, and you WILL tell me, one way or another." Melkor reached into one of the crates, and produced several objects. "In the meantime, we will explore a few more methods of human torture." He gestured to the orcs who guarded the open doorway.

"Untie this one, but hold him tight, I don't want him running around. Not just yet." Melkor smirked, anticipating a delightful afternoon of Elf torture. "Oh, and have someone contact Xiaoli, I have a job for her."

~*~

"Ouch!" Legolas glared at Elrohir, as the younger twin pulled yet another throwing star from Legolas aching forearm.

Elladan perched on the edge of the couch, examining one of the small blades the warrior maiden had left behind. It really was a surprisingly effective weapon, three sharp blades in a concentric pattern, making it incredibly aerodynamic, and potentially deadly.

There was a bit of white crystal along the edge of it, Elladan experimentally tasted it, and grimaced. "She put sea salt on these blades, Elrohir. That is why Legolas is acting like an elfling with a scraped knee."

"I am not!" Legolas turned his glare to the older twin, and resisted flinging one of the stars at his smirking companion. "It burns like fire!"

Elrohir smiled sympathetically, and gently rinsed the small wounds with cool water. "Yes, but on the bright side, the salt will clean the wounds quite well."

Legolas gave his companion a dirty look, and focused his attention on the far wall.

"What is going on out here?" Logan leaned in the doorway, his typically unruly hair even more tousled than usual. "It looks like a war zone!"

Legolas and Elrohir looked at Elladan for help, who, in turn, gave Logan a slightly sheepish smile. "Um, well... Some woman came in, and tried to kill Legolas, but don't worry, I doubt she'll be back tonight."

Logan picked up one of the throwing stars from the dish sitting beside Elrohir. It still had a bit of Legolas' blood dripping from it. He looked from one elf to the other, then sitting down beside Elladan on the couch, he lit a cigarette. "Start talking."

Elladan gave his companions a rather nervous look, "Man innas Im trenar-i adan?" //What shall I tell the man?//

"I don't know, he probably deserves an explanation, I mean, we were attacked in his house!" Legolas quirked an eyebrow, Elrohir nodded in agreement.

Elladan nodded, and turned to Logan. "You should get comfortable, I have a very long story to tell you."

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TBC...

Evil words, yes? No? Review and let me know!!

~*~

Disclaimer: I don’t own any recognizable characters or settings, they all belong to Tolkien. I’m not making any money from this endeavor.

A/N: I’m on Fall Break from college this week, so I got chapter 10 out pretty quickly. No guarantees on Chapter 11, though. Special thanks to Bill The Pony for beta’ing

Enjoy!

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Xiaoli paced around her hotel room in a fury, she had to consciously curb the impulse to throw every object in sight right out the window.

Her employer had lied to her. He had withheld important information, he should have TOLD her that these Elves were skilled in combat. At least one of them was, anyways. The other two, she wasn’t so sure, but she hadn’t been about to stick around to find out if they were as skilled as the first.

Snarling in fury, she yanked a towel from the rack in the bathroom, and wound it around her right hand. Her fingers were still bleeding from where he’d sliced them open with her own throwing dagger. If she hadn’t dropped her katana, he most likely would have sliced them completely off, and now she had to buy a new katana as well.

Her cell phone rang, an obnoxiously cheerful melody that she hadn’t figured out how to change yet. Perhaps it could be the Dies Irae from Verdi’s Requiem, anything but the god-awful Fü r Elise it was playing now. Xiaoli yanked the phone from its holster on her hip and answered in terse Japanese. The conversation was short, and she snapped in clipped tones at the voice on the other end.

“Adiosu.”* She growled the farewell, and turned off the phone. Tossing it on the bed, Xiaoli pulled her hair down and shook out the ebony tresses around her shoulders. With a sigh, she threw her soiled black clothing in a heap in the corner, and walked into the bathroom stark naked.

Her golden skin was set off nicely by the cream tones of the bathtub, the lovely contrast in colors soothed her nerves. As she sank back into the steamy hot water, she studied herself in the mirror set into the wall across from the tub.

Her figure was muscular and well defined, her legs long and slender, her shoulders well muscled, but still feminine. Her face was not unusual for a Japanese woman, but striking to the milky white folk who inhabited this part of the world. With a stubborn jaw, full lips, and slanted eyes - the exact color of midnight - she was an exotic wonder to these men. Just last night, she’d been forced to break the nose of some jerk-off who had the nerve to pinch her ass on the street.

Xiaoli bit back a chuckle as she recalled the satisfying snapping noise his nose had made under her fist. Rolling over in the tub, she contemplated the situation. According to her employer, a man she had only ever known as ‘Rex’, they were heading for New York, to seek out some transient called Micheal, or Maggie or something like that. She was to stop them before they found him, Rex didn’t say why. Rex never said why.

“New York,” She rolled the syllables around in her mouth, and contemplated how much easier it would be to kill them in the large city.

How much easier it would be to dispose of the bodies.

Smiling blissfully now, she stretched out on her back again, and sank down deep into the hot water. Tomorrow, she would catch up with them, tomorrow, she would put an end to them. Stupid Elves.

~*~

Legolas sighed in relief as Elrohir pulled the last throwing star from his chest. The wounds there still burned like fire, as the salt his would-be assassin had coated the blades with did its work.

The younger twin had finished bandaging Legolas’ right arm, where the majority of the salt-laced blades had struck, and had thoroughly cleaned the deep cut on his cheek. Now it was just a matter of the scattered wounds on the left side of Legolas chest, where his arm had not protected him.

With the last star removed, Elrohir rinsed the salt from the wounds as gently as he could. “This would be easier if you would sit still, Thranduilion.”

Legolas glared silently at the younger twin for a moment, then abruptly changed the subject. “Do you think Logan believes what Elladan told him?”

Elrohir shrugged, and began bandaging Legolas’ chest. “I hope so.”

Outside on the front porch, things had not gone well between Elladan and Logan.

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that you, and those other two, are elves?” Logan’s look of incredulity made Elladan feel inexplicably silly.

“Like Santa Claus? Do you make toys?”

Elladan rolled his eyes silently, not quite sure of the reference, but understanding the sarcasm in Logan’s tone. He didn’t interrupt though, and Logan continued on his tirade.

“You think someone is chasing you, trying to kill you, because you were visited by the ghost of a friend you knew eight thousand years ago, and he told you a spell or riddle or whatever that holds the key to defeating The Devil.”

“Melkor.”

“Whatever. Now you want me to help you get to New York City, so you can track down this Maggie…”

“Maglor”

“Whatever. Track down this Maglor, so he can point you to some diamond that will save the world?” Logan threw his cigarette butt down, and ground it out with his heel, never taking his eyes off Elladan.

Elladan, for his part, sat silently, mulling over Logan’s words in his head. It did sound crazy, but Elrohir was certain that it was Maglor they had seen on the TV the evening before, and Elladan trusted his brother without any reservations. “Yes, Logan. That is what I told you. Will you help us?”

Logan buried his face in his hands and rubbed his aching head. “You want a ride to New York?”

Elladan nodded, “We aren’t from this world, we don’t even know how to get there. That’s all you have to do, take us there. Please.”

Groaning, Logan continued to rub his head. “Fine, I’ll take you there. But, I ain’t doing anything else, and for the record, pointy ears or not, I think the three of you are insane.”

“Fair enough, and you‘re probably right.” Elladan grinned.

~*~

Elrond lay in an aching heap on the ground.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Morgoth give Thranduil’s unconscious form one last vicious kick.

The shining shoes clicked across the floor heading toward the door. They paused by Elrond, and a rough hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head up off the ground. The other hand grabbed his right hand, jerking Barahir off Elrond’s finger, then dropping the Elf on the ground, like garbage.

Melkor studied the ring in the light, turning it around in his hands a moment, then he knelt beside Elrond. “This really is fine craftsmanship, considering how very old it is, it’s held up quite well.” Elrond looked up at him balefully, but made no sound. “The last king who wore it was Aragorn Elessar, correct? The one you raised as your own son. You called him Estel, the Hope of Men. Well, Elessar is dead, and so is hope.”

Melkor dropped Barahir beside Elrond’s prone form.

“You, and your sons, have no hope. Thranduil held out longer than I expected, but there is a limit to the amount of pain even an elf can take, before they yield up information. I know they’re alive, and I know how to find them now. They will be dead by sunrise.”

The shoes clicked out of the room, and the door banged shut. Elrond lay unmoving on the floor for a long time, his body aching from the abuses Melkor had headed upon it.

To his left, Thranduil lay unconscious, blood pooling around his inert form. To Elrond’s right, Celeborn was propped against the wall, blue eyes staring vacantly as he dozed lightly.

Glorfindel was directly across from where Elrond lay, Melkor had not laid another hand on the Gondolin Elf; he was still bound upright to the steel post, with that horrible heretic’s fork still forcing his chin up to a gruesome degree. Elrond could hear his long-time friend and companion gasping for air, his airway constricted painfully.

Biting back a groan of pain, Elrond lurched to his feet, and staggered over to Glorfindel. Resting his head against Glorfindel’s shoulder a moment, he murmured, “I’m sorry, my friend, this is going to hurt. A lot.”

Glorfindel only gasped for air in return, but Elrond was certain he had heard. He raised his right arm to grasp the fork, only to discover his fingers would not function properly. He looked at the arm, and discovered, with an odd sense of detachment, that it was broken in several places.

He pressed the wounded arm across his abdomen, and gripped the heretic’s fork in his left hand firmly. He yanked it up out of Glorfindel’s collarbone, then down out of his chin as quickly as possible, the Gondolin Elf bit back a scream, then sighed in relief.

Elrond tossed the fork down, and untied the ropes binding his friend upright with fumbling fingers. Both Elves sank to the ground, leaning on each other for support. Glorfindel reached across the floor, to where Barahir still lay, and handed it to Elrond.

“As long as the Twins live, Mellon nin, there is hope.”

Elrond studied the ring a moment, then slid it back on his finger. “Let’s find a way out of here.”

~*~

*Adiosu - Japanese for goodbye

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TBC… Well? Any thoughts? Let me know, reviews make the world go round, mellyn nin!!!

Disclaimer: don't own any of it. Not making any money.

A/N: And now, a note from my dear friend Abby, upon whom the charater 'Xiaoli' was based.

Dearest Gentle Readers:

I have been informed that Xiaoli is a character that some of you "love to hate," as it were. But judge not to harshly friends, for this character was inspired by myself Certainly, she is rather misunderstood. I will not disagree with the fact that she occasionally does kill and maim. But do try to overlook these small and insignificant facts and open your heart to her good qualities.

For example, she has a zest for her job that one would be hard pressed to match. In addition, she has a "can-do" attitude. Certainly, she may often seem cold and distant, but one must admire her for not turning her anger in on herself. Instead, she finds a productive outlet for her unpleasant emotions.

Are these not qualities that we could all learn something from?

If this is not enough to persuade you from persecuting Xiaoli, then there is little else I can say. I must remind you though that it is harsh beyond measure to judge an entire being based on a single personality quirk, even if said quirk is a bit....extreme.

Also, her fighting style is based upon my own. Some would refer to this as "dirty fighting." But I can assure you that personal hygiene is of the utmost importance.

Judge not, my friends. For though you know me not, I know all of you. *Evil Look* I've been a member of this list for well over two years, silently watching every move from the cover of lurkwood. I know your habits, I know your writing styles, and I know what color the underwear are that you're wearing RIGHT NOW!! I'll leave it to your imagination why Xiaoli was based on me in the first place. *snarl*

A-Hem....

Many apologies friends. I know not what came over me....

Sincerely,

Abby L. Vermillion

***Thanks to the lovely and talented Bill the Pony (who is, in fact, a female) for beta'ing***

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So breathe in me

I need you now

I've never felt so dead within

So breathe in me

Maybe somehow

You can breathe new life

In me again

'Breathe in Me' by Micheal W. Smith

~*~

The ride to New York was long, and rather boring, once the elves got used to riding in Logan's Jeep. Elladan rode in the front, Legolas and Elrohir occupied the back seat with Cell-hu constantly jumping over them to stick his head out the windows.

At first, they were fascinated by the various gadgets and mirrors in the vehicle, and Logan patiently explained the use of each to Elladan, who in turn translated for his brother and Legolas. Logan really deserved a lot of credit for his patience, Elladan thought. Even though he still doubted the truth of Elladan's explanation, he had nonetheless agreed to help them. He truly was a good man, and Elladan found himself thanking Eru for guiding them to him.

After several hours of travel, the sun set and Legolas and Elrohir were lulled to sleep in the back seat, with Cell-hu draped over them. Elladan and Logan struck up a soft conversation, beginning with Elladan telling his mortal companion of his family back in Valinor, and his worries for them.

"I hope they're safe, wherever they are. My children are only fifteen years of age, to you they would seem about seven or eight, I suppose. My daughter, Thelrin, is just beginning to learn archery, and Thorongil is studying swordplay, that's my son. They are twins." Elladan had to choke back an involuntary sob at the thought of his children in any sort of pain or fear. If Melkor hurt them in any way, he would rip the former Valar to shreds with his bare hands, if need be.

His thoughts must have been painted across his face because Logan placed a comforting hand on the Elf's shoulder. "I'm sure their mother will keep them safe, 'Dan."

Elladan nodded and steered the conversation away from himself, not wanting to confront the emotions brought up by the thoughts of his family. "What about you, do you have any family?"

"I did." Logan did not take his gaze off the darkened highway, "They died, about twenty years ago, in an accident. Drunk driver."

"I'm sorry," Elladan was at a loss for words, he had experienced his fair share of heartache and lost loved ones, but he did not know if he could survive losing his wife and children. They were the most important things in the world to him, and though he did not understand what Logan meant by 'drunk driver', he got the basic idea.

"Yeah. My son, Mike, he was about the same age as your boy, and my daughters were six and eight; their names were Amy and Corinne." Logan smiled wistfully, as memories known only to him echoed through his mind. "My wife, Ellen, was driving; the other driver ran his truck off the road and plowed right into their car. She died instantly, along with Mike."

It was Elladan's turn to comfort Logan, and he did so, placing a hand on the human's shoulder. "You do not have to speak of it, if you wish."

"No, it's alright. I want you to know, don't ask me why. Maybe I'm hoping you'll have a little hope for your own family. Anyway, they took my girls to the hospital; Corinne, she never woke up, but she still looked like a little angel lying in that hospital bed, all hooked up to tubes and machines.

"Amy, she was awake the whole time though. Saw her mom's and brother's bodies hauled away. She was thrown clear of the wreck upon impact; I guess she had a head injury. They could have saved her if they'd caught it, but they didn't. I brought her home with me that night, and she died in her bed. Corinne died the next morning."

Logan's face was expressionless as he spoke of his family's deaths. Elladan knew that his impassive exterior hid twenty years worth of heartache. He was horrified to learn that Amy's death could have been prevented, but as a healer himself, knew that head injuries could be sneaky and sometimes difficult to catch. Particularly when there were many other lives at stake.

Elladan did not know what else to say to the human, so he squeezed his shoulder once, then dropped his hand back into his lap. Logan, for his part, continued staring at the road and they rode the rest of the night in silence.

Sometime in the night, as he contemplated this new insight into his friends life, Elladan drifted off to sleep. So when Logan awakened him the next morning, he was stunned by the sight that greeted him when he opened his bleary eyes.

There were buildings rising as high as the clouds, the sun gleamed off the glass and metal, giving the shining towers the look of diamonds and mithril. He blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes to the glare.

In his nearly eleven thousand years of life, Elladan had seen Orthanc, the Tower of Echthelion in Minas Tirith, and even Barad Dur; none of them compared with the smallest of buildings before him. They rose up, higher and higher, as though they were competing with each other, each trying to touch the clouds first.

Finally, he tore his eyes away from the brilliant architecture and studied the people. It was easily done, they were everywhere! Crowds of them, milling about, crossing roads clogged with all shapes and types of the motorized vehicles similar to the one he was riding in. Even inside the Jeep, the din was overwhelming. His sensitive ears ached from the constant racket produced by the mass of humanity around him.

Elladan had to resist the urge to cover his nose when his delicate olfactory sense was nearly overwhelmed by the odor produced by the poisonous fume the vehicles emitted, not to mention the stench of sweat, sewage and offal.

In the back seat, Elrohir and Legolas were having a similar reaction, the look of sheer disgust on their faces was almost humorous. Logan patted the Elf on the shoulder and grinned, "Welcome to New York."

~*~

Elrond groaned and dragged himself to his feet. His body ached in more places than he knew possible, but some inner force drove him onward, the same stubborn streak that had helped him survive battles to numerous to count.

Glorfindel rose beside him, the Gondolin Elf was also sore, but he had not been abused as badly as the other three. The only marks on his body were under his chin and on his sternum; four neat puncture wounds cruelly jabbed into his pale skin.

At their feet Thranduil lay unmoving; it did not look as though he would ever move again, truth be told. His golden hair was matted with blood that trickled into a pool around his body. From the looks of his chest, he obviously had some broken ribs, and his right arm and leg were twisted at odd angles from his body. All in all, the former Elven King had the look of a bird after being caught by a particularly vicious cat, broken and bedraggled. Though his chest still rose and fell, his breaths were weak and ragged; Elrond had little hope anyone short of the Valar could save Thranduil now.

He knelt beside the fair-haired elf, and rested a hand on his chest, "Hannon le, mellon nin. You reminded me that Hope does not die unless we let it."

Celeborn watched as Glorfindel helped Elrond to his feet once again, "I cannot move, Elrond."

There was a note of panic in his voice, indiscernable to anyone who did not know him well, but Elrond did. "Stay with your kinsman, Adar. Glorfindel and I will see what can be done, worry not, we will find the twins, as well as Celebrian and Galadriel." Elrond spoke with confidence he did not feel, but he wished to reassure his father-in-law nonetheless.

Celeborn nodded, and dragged his crushed and useless legs across the floor to stretch out beside his dying cousin. "I will not leave him, Elrond. Do what you can."

Elrond nodded and, leaning heavily on each other, the pair made their way to the door.

~*~

The foursome spent the day wandering around the city. The Elves found themselves entirely overwhelmed by the sheer size of the city. Elrohir summed it up nicely when he exclaimed 'it's as big as the entire land of Rohan!' when they arrived in Manhattan that morning.

As the day wore on, they searched all the places where Logan thought itinerant singers might work, and, of course, found nothing of any use. Though many knew of the person Elladan described; a tall, thin man with long red hair and a beautiful singing voice, no one could say exactly where he most often performed.

That night found them on the banks of the Hudson River, wandering among the dark warehouses and sheds that lined the docks. There was a terrible stench of dead fish, human sweat and bile, and something else undefinable. Something poisonous.

The buildings were all somewhat ramshackle, the glass broken in the windows, some of the doors broken open. Inside there were the remnants of factory equipment, large decrepit hunks of metal covered in bird and rat feces. They found themselves loathe to explore these reminders of a time when child labor all but ran the city, and no one thought twice about it.

"Do you honestly think he lives around here, Logan?" Elladan voiced the question he'd been arguing with his brother and friend for the past ten minutes.

Logan had opted to remain with them upon arriving in the city, he was afraid of what they would do all alone there and had come to care for the strange threesome despite himself. "I don't know, but lots of homeless people come here. Cops don't bother checking these old warehouses, so they can sleep here with very little disturbance, plus they're out of the elements."

Elladan nodded, "Well, we may as well check."

Elrohir took the lead, guiding them between two squat buildings toward a short pier. Elladan and Legolas followed a short distance behind, with Logan bringing up the rear a good ten feet back.

It was at the moment Elladan and Legolas emerged from between the two buildings, stepping out of the shadows, the attack came; Xiaoli came from above, legs tucked neatly beneath her, daggers drawn and at ready.

As her feet touched lightly down on the pavement, she swung a leg around and cracked Legolas across the face before he could react. The Elf staggered back under the force of the blow. Pressing her advantage, Xiaoli spun around and drove a knife into Elladan's trunk before he could even raise an arm to deflect the blow.

As the knife struck home with a soft crunching noise, Logan cried out in warning. Elrohir spun around in time to see his brother fall back, a stunned look on the elder twin's face. Without a second thought, Elrohir drew the katana blade Xiaoli had left behind at Logan's house and attacked.

Leading with a powerful forehand blow, he struck hard enough to split his much smaller adversary nearly in two. She evaded with surprising speed for a mortal, and in a single fluid gesture flung a pencil thin throwing knife at Legolas, who was just recovering from receiving her foot in his jaw.

He attempted to dodge the blade as it spun through the air on a deadly course. It was lucky for him he did, for though it did not strike a killing blow, the tiny knife laid open his face diagonally, from his nostril to his eyebrow, ruining one of his blue eyes permanently.

Elrohir did not wait to see if Legolas was all right, but followed his forehand with a backhand slash that Xiaoli parried with surprising penache. "Who are you!" He growled, and they circled each other, each sizing up their opponent.

"My name is Xiaoli, I am here to kill you. That's all you need to know." Xiaoli figured it was only polite to tell the guy he was about to die, after all, he was kind of cute. If he wasn't about to die, she would probably be finding other activities to do with him, things almost as fun as fighting a duel to the death.

She bit back a chuckle at that last thought.

Elrohir had no idea why the girl was smiling, but he fully intended to wipe that vicious grin off her face. Without waiting for an opening, he attacked forcefully, but she evaded with grace and waited for his next blow.

Sighing, Elrohir recognized her tactic; she was trying to size him up, letting him attack until he turned blue in the face, all the while parrying and evading his blows and searching for a weakness.

Well that wasn't going to work tonight. He would just have to force her to fight back. Having decided upon a strategy, he pressed his attack, the lightweight katana in his hand making soft swishing sounds in the air as the blade cut deadly arcs through the air.

But no matter how he attacked, no matter what angle he came from, she still managed to avoid the slow and painful death he had intended for her. As a result, Elrohir was becoming uncharacteristically frustrated, and his temper was fraying dangerously.

Xiaoli noted this gleefully, and continued studying his style. He was good, she had to give him that; his strikes were precise, and packed quite a punch. It took all her strength to parry them, even though she did her damnedest to make it look easy.

There, right there. That was his weakness. She had been watching with a careful eye, cunningly avoiding his strongest blows, so as not to be crushed, when it occurred to her; everytime he struck with a forehand, he followed up with a backhand slash. It took only a split second for him to turn his wrist three quarters to make that strike, but she would have to make it work.

Her eyes gleamed as she waited patiently, egging him on with a big grin and chuckle everytime she avoided another of his blows. Soon enough, he soon lost his temper, and came at her with his most powerful blow, a forehand strike.

Legolas was watching the battle unfold through his left eye, as his right was currently pouring blood all over his face and chest. He saw her prepare to attack, noting the change in her stance, and the wicked gleam in her eye. She had found a weakness, and, blinded by his rare show of temper, Elrohir would follow his forefathers into the Halls of Mandos if he was not warned.

There was no time to call out a warning, so Legolas simply acted; he dove forward, catching the girl about the waist and propelling them both forward in a tackle that would make any linebacker for the Green Bay Packers proud.

Xiaoli watched as Elrohir completed the forehand strike, the blade arcing gracefully through the air. As he prepared to follow up with a backhand, she raised her blade, ready to drive it right into his unprotected heart. Just as she was about to strike, a sudden weight struck her around the waist and drove her into the waters of the Hudson.

Elrohir was startled when his backhand met with thin air and, following the sound of the splash, he could see Xiaoli and Legolas scuffling on the surface of the murky river, then they disappeared under for several long moments.

Waiting with bated breath, Elrohir prayed silently to Eru and all the Valar that Legolas was all right. The seconds passed, the only disturbance on the surface now was bubbles floating to the surface. Elrohir scanned the river in panic, terrified that his longtime friend was not going to reappear. Just when it seemed that no one could survive underwater that long, a body floated to the surface, blonde hair spread around his head like a halo.

He was facedown in the water and not moving. Elrohir dropped the katana and dove in after his friend. He reached Legolas quickly, his strong arms propelling him through the water reminded him of all the times Elrond had told the twins they were more like fish than elflings.

As he wrapped his arms around his unconscious friend, he wondered why on earth these bizarre things popped into his head at such critical moments. Elrohir dragged the former Prince of Mirkwood back to the pier, and hauled him up on the dock. The golden haired Elf was bleeding from several wounds, the worst of them was on his head, though. It looked as though his right eye was completely ruined.

As he quickly made note of Legolas' injuries, a soft sobbing noise caught his attention. Looking up, Elrohir easily located the source of the sound.

It was Logan, and he was cradling what appeared to be a body in his arms.

"Oh Valar, no! Elladan!"

Elrohir forgot about Legolas entirely as he ran to his brother's inert form. Time seemed to slow, as he ran those few yards. His heart was pounding in his ears like a drum, drowning out all other sounds.

As he dropped to his knees beside his beloved brother, Elrohir knew instinctively that the wound was mortal. Elladan's breaths were shallow, and he wore a vaguely pained expression on his face. Rising up from his chest in a macabre fashion was the hilt of Xiaoli's knife, almost identical to the one she had tried to kill Legolas with several nights before.

"Nooo!" Elrohir's voice was choked, as grief and shock wrapped themselves around his windpipe. He took his brother in his arms, and cradled him with the care one would take with a newborn infant. "Elladan...."

As Elrohir held his brother's dying form, a hundred thousand memories assailed him; from his very earliest memories to his last image of Elladan, slinging an arm around Legolas' shoulders in a companionable manner and grinning impishly at Elrohir as he took the lead to explore the dock.

"Elrohir..?" Elladan's voice was faint, Elrohir had to lean his head down to catch it.

"I'm here, brother." He tried to make his voice reassuring, but it was impossible. His very best friend in the world, the one who knew all his secrets, who understood him relentlessly, was dying in his arms.

"The sky...it's different."

"What?" Elrohir's brow furrowed as he tried to divine what his brother was talking about.

"Earendil no longer shines."

Startled at those words Elrohir looked up, and sure enough, Earendil was not there. He looked back down at his brother, to ask what made him think of that, but Elladan's silver eyes were forever closed.

The firstborn son of Elrond Peredhil was dead.

~*~

*backs slowly away* Um, no killing now! I can't fix it if I'm dead, you know? *looks nervously at Pennsuleien and Saber*

*turns and runs*

Disclaimer: Don’t own any of it, never did.

A/N:  Whoa!  Sorry it’s been so long guys!  I moved, and then my computer got fried in the process, so I had no internet access for a WHOLE MONTH! *dies*

Anyways, here’s the next chappie, it shouldn’t be so long until the next one!

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Sound the bugle now

Play it just for me

As the seasons change

Remember how I used to be

Now I can’t go on

I can’t even start

I’ve got nothing left, just an empty heart

I’m a soldier wounded so I must give up the fight

There’s nothing more for me

Lead me away

Or leave lying here

Sound the bugle now

Tell them I don’t care

There’s not a road that leads to anywhere

Without a light I feel that I will stumble in the dark

Lay right down and decide not to go on

But from on high

Somewhere in the distance

There’s a voice that calls

‘Remember who you are’

If you lose yourself your courage soon will follow

So be strong tonight remember who you are.

You’re a soldier now

Fighting in a battle

To be free once more

Yeah, that’s worth fighting for!

            ‘Sound the Bugle’

            Bryan Adams

            From the Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron soundtrack.

~*~

Arwen wishes she could fidget.

Many years ago, when she was alive and had a corporeal body, she would rub her hands together and fiddle with her nails when she was this nervous.

Her father would always say, ‘don’t fidget Arwen, it’s unseemly.’

Things are getting worse, her strength is waning, it is only a matter of time before Morgoth will see through her various tricks and disguises and find the children of Valinor. 

When he does, he will destroy every one of them; he will not risk defeat from any quarter.

Arwen considers forming a body, so she can have fingers to fidget with, but that would take up precious energy; energy she needs to keep the little ones hidden.

She gives a little sigh as she feels Aragorn pass through her momentarily; their link is stronger now than it ever was in life.  He brings news that Elladan has been killed by Morgoth’s assassin. 

Elladan’s spirit is wandering, lost because there is no one to guide him to the Halls of Mandos; Aragorn promises to take care of him. 

It will only be a little while longer now; already her uncle Elros, known as Tar-Minyature to those who study ancient mortal history, has guided Maglor to Elrohir and Legolas.   

Maglor holds the key. 

Arwen feels a slight quaking in the shield around some of the pregnant maids, among them her sister-in-law and Legolas’ wife.  She strengthens it, and focuses her attention on protecting the little ones once again.

~*~

Elrohir cradles his brother’s body for a long time, though how long he cannot tell. 

Behind him, Logan has moved to Legolas, most likely tending his wounds.

Tears course down pale Elven cheeks as Elrohir stares up at the sky, searching for Earendil’s star, and whatever bit of hope he might draw from it.  But the star does not shine this night, nor will it ever shine again, should Melkor have his way.

As he kneels there, seeking the absent star and remembering thousands of years of companionship and love from Elladan, a hand lands gently upon his shoulder.

A voice speaks, soft and gentle in his ear, “Come, you cannot linger here, my friend.”

Elrohir turns his head, as though in a daze, and sees a tall, pale man with coppery hair standing behind him.  The longer he looks, the more he realizes this is no man at all, but an Elf, “…Maglor?”

The Elf nods quietly, and gently takes Elladan’s body in his arms.  “Bring your wounded friend, we will go to my home and tend him there.”

Elrohir obeys unquestioningly; picking Legolas up off the ground and helping him walk along. 

Maglor says something to Logan in the tongue of Mortals, and the little company follows along behind the ancient being.

He leads them to a warehouse; it looks dark and forbidding in the dim light from the streetlamps.  They walk inside and follow Maglor through to a small door at the back of the large room, which is filled with dust, cobwebs and ancient machinery.

Through the door is a cheerfully lit apartment, with several couches and other furniture strewn about.  Nothing matches, and most of it looks tattered and torn as though they were cast-offs thrown away by someone else.

Maglor gently lays Elladan on a small bed in the back, and Elrohir helps Legolas to sit on a couch then returns to his brother’s body without a word.  Maglor vanishes from the room a moment, quickly returning with a box of healing supplies with which he sets to work on Legolas’ wounds.

Legolas, for his part, does not fight the Noldo as he cleans and binds the cuts on Legolas’ trunk and face.  “The wound on your eye is grievous indeed, my friend.”  Maglor speaks softly as he works, “The eye itself is wounded, and I do not have the skill to heal it.  Indeed, I do not think there is a doctor on all of Arda who can heal it, though their skill at healing is far advanced from what it was when Elessar ruled Middle-earth.”

Looking at the Elf in wonder, Legolas whispers, “Who are you?”

“I am Maglor, second son of Feanor.  I have wandered these shores alone for many long centuries, and it brings joy to my heart to hear the Elven-tongue once again.”  Maglor smiles, green eyes crinkling at the corners as he wraps a bandage around Legolas’ head neatly.  “It is lucky for you I speak many of the tongues of men, for you would be unable to communicate with your mortal friend here, otherwise, am I correct.”

Legolas nods, “Yes.  Is he alright?”

Maglor turns his head toward Logan, who is sitting on the floor near Elrohir with his dark head bowed in grief.  “As well as he can be, I suppose.”  He helps Legolas to his feet, and leads him to Elladan’s body.  “He died bravely in battle; He will have a place of honor in the Halls of Mandos.”

The full weight of his loss sinks in, and Elrohir begins to sob openly.  Logan places a hand on the younger twin’s shoulder, and weeps with him awhile.

Legolas does not move for many long moments, before joining his companions in bidding farewell to their brave brother and friend. 

Maglor, for his part, slips quietly from the room for a few minutes, then returns again, this time bearing a white sheet.  Stepping around the weeping companions, he carefully binds Elladan’s body in the sheet and hands the knife that killed him to Elrohir.  Then he hefts the body and carries it outside to the river, “May Ulmo bear him to the sea, where he can be forever at peace.”

Logan helps Maglor set Elladan’s body in the water, where a swift current carries it away from the dirty water in the city and out to the pure, clear water of the bay.  They watch as Elladan’s body sinks beneath the surface of the water, and vanishes from their sight forever.

When he is gone, Maglor turns to the still weeping Elves and speaks once again.  “I know what you came to me to find, and I will give it to you, on one condition; bear me to Valinor with you!  I am weary of wandering among mortals, forever apart, and I am ready to bear whatever judgment the Valar will give me.”

“Our ship is destroyed; we don’t know how we will return to Valinor.”  Legolas speaks softly.  He is leaning heavily on Elrohir’s shoulder, for his strength is failing him at the moment, the loss of his longtime friend and the loss of a lot of blood, not to mention his eye has weakened him considerably. 

“I can get you a ship, we must return immediately; for I have received word from beyond that we are needed there.  The few spirits who are not entrapped in the Halls of Time are rapidly failing; their strength is waning.  We must end this now, however we can.”  With that, Maglor kneels down and begins fishing underneath the docks with his hands for something.

After a moment it seems he finds it, for he grins exultantly and pulls out a small package wrapped in fine linen and hands it to Elrohir.  “I cannot touch it myself, but you can!”

Elrohir takes the dripping package with a look of confusion, “What is this?”

“Open it.”  Maglor smiles kindly, though a shadow of sorrow shows in his eyes.

Turning the bundle in his hand, Elrohir carefully unwrapped it, while Legolas and Logan peer over his shoulder in curiosity.  As the linen fell away, it disintegrated and a brilliant light began to peek out. 

At last, Maglor’s gift is revealed.  “A silmaril,” Elrohir whispered in a breathy voice.

Lying beside it is a strand of golden hair bound in a clasp of silver, Maglor carefully picked it up and handed to Legolas, who took it with a look of reverence. 

“He left it behind when we left for Valinor…He left this on the shore!  How did you come to it?”  Legolas looked at Maglor in confusion.

“I was there, watching when you and Gimli Elf-friend sailed away.  I had a feeling you would need it again someday, if only to remind you of a friendship, both rare and strong.”

Maglor grinned, “Are you ready to set sail now?”

Taken aback, Elrohir spoke softly, “What about Elladan?”

“He is beyond our help now, do not worry; he will be well cared for until you can be together again.  I promise.”  Maglor placed a gentle hand on Elrohir’s shoulder.

Nodding, Legolas laid a hand over Elrohir’s, covering the silmaril.  The light continued to peek out between their fingers, so that it seemed they clutched a star between them.  “Let us go, Elrohir; we can do no more here.”

Maglor turned to Logan and spoke in English, “And you, Master Human, will you be journeying to Aman with us as well?”

“Well, ‘Dan was my friend, the first I’ve had in a long time.  I think I’ll go along, if only to get a chance to stop those jerks that had him killed.”  Logan smiles grimly, nodding to Elrohir and Legolas. 

“Wonderful, then let us go!”  Maglor repeats the sentence in Sindarin, then leads the way to the harbor where they can commandeer an appropriate vessel.

Deep in the sea are riches beyond compare. But if you seek safety, it is on the shore.  --Saadi of Shiraz, 1200 AD

The old-fashioned wooden ship slipped silently through the dark waters of the Atlantic. Built as a tourist attraction, it was a fully functional, built-to-scale copy of a 17th century vessel. Being as three of the passengers on board the ship had no experience with motors, not to mention obtaining enough fuel for a modern-day ship could be tricky, so all had agreed upon the tried-but-true method of sailing.

The ship was built as a tourist attraction so it could be manned by one person at a time, providing the seas were calm and steady. Below decks was a small cabin in which his companions had strung hammocks from various rafters and support posts. Beyond the cabin was a storage area.  It was there that the majority of their equipment was packed away for ballast.

Riding on a stolen ship carrying enough explosives to dent the moon headed to a lost continent that no human had made mention of in recorded history was making Logan rather nervous. Being a night person, he had volunteered to steer the vessel after dark while his companions rested, so at least he had something to do while he fretted about the consequences of his recent decisions, the majority of which were probably less than advisable.

At Logan's feet, Cell-hu was stretched out on his side. Water dewed on the dog's silky, sable-colored fur, catching the light from the lantern behind him and giving him an almost mystical appearance.

With a wide yawn, Cell-hu stretched, then relaxed again on the wooden floor. Apparently, he had finally achieved complete canine comfort, for he groaned deeply in his throat, the sound of utter contentment.

Logan smiled briefly and waved once at his companions when they filed below decks to get whatever rest they could.

Maglor waved in return; Legolas and Elrohir silently acknowledged Logan's wave by nodding their heads, then all three moved out of sight and Logan was alone.

The fog thickened by the hour, coating the decks with a fine layer of mist and making the sails gleam like silver in the dim moonlight. The only sounds were the groaning of the boat, the whisper of the sails in the light wind, the rhythmic sound of water lapping and Cell-hu's sporadic snores.

It was, as Logan's wife would have said, a good night to be dreaming.

Logan smiled at a stray memory of his one true love, then forced his mind back to logistics, like how best to use the arsenal he had built up in the deck below him. He and Maglor had raided several gun shops and construction sites via the sewer systems the night before.

Maglor had a disturbingly well-developed knowledge of the tunnels that criss-crossed under the city, and knew how to get into almost every building in New York from the sewers.

After stocking up on rifles, handguns, bullets, grenades and even TNT, Logan and Maglor had hauled it all to the ship where Elrohir and Legolas waited for them.  Feeling strangely comforted by the highly explosive materials directly below his feet, Logan settled against the helm and stared into the fog, making a concentrated effort to not worry about the prison time he could face for his recent robberies.

~*~

Maglor, Legolas and Elrohir settled into the gently swaying hammocks without speaking a word to one another.  Two were immersed in their own thoughts, grieving for the friend and brother that was lost to them, and the third was content to let them be.

As each stared up at the rafters above them their eyes slowly drifted shut and they dreamed.

~*~

The good that people can do emanates and multiplies from the good that one person can do.

--Lewis Richmond

"You'd think, after all you did in the Third and Fourth Ages, Eru would have decided you've done enough and let you off the hook, you know?"

Samwise Gamgee and Legolas were sitting under a big tree in a vibrantly green field. The sun gently warmed their shoulders and birds hopped through the branches above them, chattering cheerfully with one another.

Legolas felt a sense of deep contentment, surrounded by the peace of nature and the aura of simplicity that always seemed to surround any hobbit. There was no rush, no worry, and no loss.  There was nothing but warmth and comfort.

"Where are we?"  He found himself asking, perhaps in the hope that he might be able to find this place again someday.

"Nowhere important, my friend."  Sam smiled and pulled out his pipe, puffing on it contentedly. "I just wanted to talk with you a bit, and this seemed like as good a place as any."

"You wanted to talk to me?  Why?"  Legolas stretched out on his back, enjoying the sensation of the warm sun on his face and the soft grass beneath him, forgetting for a moment the dire task he found himself once again set upon.  There was no worry for his family, for his friends, or for his world; it was all forgotten as he lazily twirled a strand of grass between his fingers.

"Well, because you're about to follow in my footsteps, sort of, and there are some things you ought to know." Sam leaned forward on his knees. 

"We can't stay here for long, so you have to pay attention. By the by, does that hurt?"  He gestured to Legolas' ruined right eye with his pipe.

Touching the bandage over his face lightly, Legolas shrugged and studied his companion with his remaining eye.  "I'd forgotten about it until you mentioned it."

"I bet you've lost all depth perception, right? That's gonna make shooting those arrows pretty hard..."  Sam trailed off, puffing at his pipe.

Sitting up abruptly, Legolas grimaced as the events of the past few days came back to him in a rush.

The pleasant field flew forward like the scenery past a car window, to be replaced by a cliff on the edge of an empty, black void. The sun overhead turned black, casting eerie shadows on the rocks and boulders scattered about them.

Beside Legolas, Sam gripped the Elf's wrist tightly to keep him from panicking.  "You're safe so long as you're with me, don't worry."

Legolas glanced down at Sam, then peered anxiously over the edge into the blackness below.

"The fate of the world once again hangs in the balance, Legolas.  On one side we have a paradise where there will be no more suffering, no more loneliness for any of our races, and on the other, a dark, empty void. Once again, you are to be part of events that will change the entire world, and this time you play an even more important part. As I once followed Frodo into the wastes of Mordor, so must you go with Elrohir to battle Morgoth. You must make certain he has the courage and will to continue onward. The jewel is the key. Don't forget that, Legolas. Oh, and take this!"

As the world began to spin wildly around Legolas, becoming a swirl of color and sound, Sam pressed a cool, hard object into the wounded Elf's hand. Then the dark void, the green pasture, Sam and even the cliff vanished, sending Legolas into a warm, dark place where he rested in total peace, storing up his strength for the battles ahead.

~*~

Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.

--Helen Keller

"It's been a long time, my son."

Maglor blinked once, and then looked to his right, startled to see the striking profile of his father, a face he had not seen in more than 100,000 years.

"Atar? ...How...?" His voice trails off as he takes in his surroundings, becoming even more confused by the scenery.

Father and son are seated on the grass beneath a pair of very familiar looking trees.  One radiates a warm, sunny light; the other bathes them in cool, silvery tones. Laurelin and Telperion, the trees created by Yvanna and Nienna, and destroyed by Morgoth prior to the First Age; the trees that created the light that the silmarils have shone with for eons and precipitated the war that took from Maglor all he once held dear, leaving him a bitter hermit singing to a watery audience.

"You're wondering what's going on, aren't you?" Feanor's face held a fatherly, affectionate light for his second-born son. It was a relief to Maglor, who last saw his father's eyes gleaming with fanaticism and hatred.

"Yes."

"I'll start by telling you that while I owe you more than I can ever repay, now is not the time for recriminations; the dark lord has taken all the souls in Mandos, including those of your brothers and mother. He is feeding on them, using them the way mortals now use electricity to power their world. I only escaped because Morgoth dared not try to enslave my soul."

Feanor shrugged one shoulder and smirked, a bit of his old arrogance showing through, "I think he knows that even after all this time, I'm still a match for him."

Maglor raised a skeptical eyebrow, "If you are a match for him, then why don't you free the souls he's enslaved and take away his source of power?"

"Morgoth cannot enslave my soul because he does not know my power. He does not know if the fire I am named for will consume him or fuel him, so rather than take that risk, he allows me to wander free, apart from the world, able only to communicate with the dead. A powerful lady has brought me to you to pass on a message, so listen carefully: The jewel cannot be used by one of my bloodline; it has to be the Last Heir of Luthien. The answer is not the obvious one, but I cannot say more, except that you must guide them. You have the wisdom, my son. Help them to avoid the pitfalls that our family did not, and do not forget your old allies!"

The world around Maglor began to fade, taking Feanor with it, and rather like Carroll’s Cheshire Cat, Feanor grinned widely, until only his eyes and unnerving smile remained. "My son, the time has come to right the wrongs I led you to do. I have faith that you will be the one to redeem the House of Feanor. Know that I am with you, even if you cannot see me; leave behind the mantle of the Kinslayer and become the Harpist once again."

Feanor's voice trailed off into silence as a warm, comforting darkness descended upon Maglor and he slept soundly for the first time since the creation of the Silmarils.

~*~

Do what you can where you are with what you've got.  --Theodore

Roosevelt

Elrohir blinked slowly, studying his surroundings with a calm, curious gaze. He was sitting in a grand hall reminiscent of the great halls of Gondor. He found himself thinking of those silvery days so long ago when he wandered the corridors of Minas Tirith alongside his brothers. Both of them. This hall, though, was gilded with golden light, giving it warmth that Minas Tirith never had. At the end of the hall was a great throne, and seated upon was a familiar face.

"Adar?!" Elrohir rushed forward, almost desperate for the comfort of his father, but stopped short when he grew closer.  "You're not Adar...Who are you?"

The mortal wearing his father's face smiled gently, "It has been a long time since I was mistaken for Elrond. No, I am not your father; I am Elros. It is good to finally speak with you, nephew."

Elrohir blinked once, then recovered himself and bowed as Elven protocol required when meeting a foreign dignitary, though there was probably no social protocol for meeting a foreign dignitary that had been dead for tens of thousands of years. "I am honored, my lord. If you don't mind me asking, how have I come to be in your presence?"

Elros' smile broadened to a grin as he stepped off the throne and clapped his nephew on the shoulder. "I think you know that this is a dream, Elrohir. You always were an intelligent lad. I come with a message...well, several messages, actually."

Elrohir swallowed and nodded once, both eager and terrified to hear what his long-dead uncle would have to say.

"The first is that your brother is safe from Morgoth. Though his body is dead, his spirit is protected by messengers from Eru, like me. You need not harbor that worry any longer.  You and he will someday be reunited, for souls bound by bonds as strong as those between you and Elladan cannot be completely severed.  He requested that I urge you onward toward the ultimate goal, the quest you must now undertake."

Elrohir sighed in relief, tears forming unbidden in his gentle grey eyes.

"I miss him..."

"I know, nephew, but now is not the time for grief. Now is the time for action; you must mourn the loss of your brother later."

Nodding once, Elrohir dried his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"The next thing you must know is that Morgoth holds captive all of Valinor, even the souls that were within the Halls of Mandos.  Without Namo there to protect them, the dark lord has enslaved them, using them to power his campaign against all of Arda." Elrohir shook his head sadly, but did not speak, not wanting to interrupt.

"Your father is Morgoth's captive, as are Thranduil, Glorfindel and Celeborn. The rest of the Elven nations are working at building a tower for Morgoth, helpless slaves tortured by ores and evil men. Only the children are safe right now, protected by your sister in a place beyond Valinor. This cannot last long, though.  You must go to them, for therein lies the only weapon that can destroy the dark lord. Go first to the children, Elrohir."

His brow furrowing, Elrohir reached out toward his uncle, seeking reassurance.  "The children...?  What are you...?"  His voice trailed off as the hall melted away around him, until there was only he and Elros standing in a beam of golden light.

"Your companions, both seen and unseen will help you along the way,

Fear not. Remember to trust in your own strength, and remember that you are descended from the only beings ever to do harm to the dark lord. Take heart and use that heritage to your advantage!"

Elros began to glow from within, a warm brilliant light that built until he shone like the sun. Stars coalesced around the edges of the light, until nothing remained of the great king but a formless column of light.

Elros' voice echoed through the hall, "You are not alone, Elrohir. Do not forget that!"

Then the light faded, and alone, Elrohir sank into the same comforting darkness that swallowed his companions. Thus warmed by the love of his uncle, he slept.

To be continued...

Morning dawned bright and chilly over the tiny vessel floating alone amid the ice floes and rocky shoals of the Hudson Bay. Maglor arose from his bed refreshed and eager to start the new day.  After coaxing the hot plate into functioning via a small generator, he began cooking scrambled eggs on one burner and boiling water for coffee on the other.  Soon the fragrant aromas filled the cabin and brought his younger companions to consciousness.
Sliding out of the hammock with a pleased sigh, Elrohir stretched and reached for his shoes.  A good night's sleep had done wonders to refresh him.
Nearby, Legolas mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "five more minutes Ada," and buried his face in his arm.
Maglor passed a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee to Elrohir, then pulled on his own shoes and carried a plate of food and a cup of coffee up to ogan, who was leaning on the helm, watching the horizon.
Gratefully accepting the food and beverage, he pointed to the horizon with his fork.  "I think I see land, but I'm not sure.  The light is making it hard to tell what's real and what's not." 
"We are getting closer, my friend.  Worry not, it won't be much longer.  Why don't you and your guard dog get some rest?"
Chuckling, Logan patted Cell-hu on the head, then pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and sat down on the steps to enjoy his coffee and a smoke.  "He rested up all night so he could sleep today.  Wouldn't want him to tax himself."
Maglor chuckled and took over the helm with the ease of long practice.
Below them, Legolas had finally decided to join the land of the living and was sitting up in his hammock while Elrohir got him a plate of food.  He was looking at an object in his right hand with a perplexed look when Elrohir brought him his food.
"What is that, mellon nin?"  Elrohir asked as he offered the steaming plate of eggs.
"....Sting," Legolas murmured.

~*~

Elrond slumped to the ground with a heavy sigh, Glorfindel dropped beside him and shared a weary look with his long-time friend.
Sheltered by the ruins of Tirion, the two felt safe enough for the moment to rest and tend to each other's wounds. Since their escape from Morgoth's dungeon, they had done nothing but run and hide, trying to stay under the radar of the dark lord's servants.
There in the rubble of a small infirmary, Elrond and Glorfindel huddled together, shivering in the cold that now permeated all of Valinor.
Occasionally, the walls quivered and shook as the dragon guarding the city thundered by, looking for more treasure for the pile he had already built in the main palace. Outside the city, balrogs, orcs and more dragons roamed at will, fouling the land and searching for any Elves who may have escaped the initial attack.
"We cannot stay here long, mellon nin." Elrond picked up a cracked cup from the ground, filled it with water dripping from somewhere above them, then handed it to his companion.
Glorfindel drank the water gratefully, then handed the cup back to Elrond. "I know. But what are we trying to do here, Elrond? What can just you and I accomplish?"
Shaking his head sadly, Elrond refilled the cup for himself, "I don't know. But if we can get to the shores and find a boat, perhaps we can sail back to Middle Earth and rally the race of Men to come to our aid."
"Elrond, we have abandoned them for thousands of years, why would they help us?  They've probably forgotten we ever existed."
Elrond sighed and took another sip, "I know. But what other option do we have, Glorfindel? Sit here and wait to die?  I can't accept that."
Glorfindel gave his friend a wry smile, "I know, neither can I.  Let's rest here for tonight, then head to the shore in the morning."
Setting the cup on a small ledge above him, Elrond stretched out on his side, resting his head on the crook of his arm.
Glorfindel stretched out beside him, their bodies close together to preserve some warmth in the chill air.
As they slipped into a light rest, their eyes still open and watchful, Elrond's mind drifted once again toward his sons, as it had a thousand times since he last rested, and he murmured a prayer for their safety. "Watch over them, Eru. Please be my eyes."
~*~
Elsewhere on the once beautiful continent, Morgoth furiously stormed around his tower.  "What do you MEAN you cannot find those accursed Elf Lords?!"
The orcs before him cowered at his wrath, not daring to move lest they be struck down.
"Find them and bring them to me! And get rid of those corpses!" Morgoth gestured to a pile of Elven bodies, amid them the physical remains of Thranduil and Celeborn.
Bowing, the foul creatures scurried off to do their lord's bidding.

Alone in his tower, Morgoth sank into a throne-like chair, contemplated the wall opposite him for a moment, then raised his right hand and barked, "Sauron, to me."
Appearing like smoke from the shadows behind him, Sauron came forward. "Yes my lord, what would you ask of me?" His voice was like the hiss of a snake, sibilant and menacing.
"The naugrim. No one has heard from them in thousands of years. I suspect they still live. Find them, faithful servant. I want their might on our side."
Sauron bowed, "Of course, my lord."
"And send out your nazgul to round up any Elves that might still be free. I suspect there may be a few here and there that were missed in the initial attack; dragons and balrogs make too much noise to sneak up on an Elf."
Again, Sauron bowed, "As you wish, my lord."
Waving his hand, Morgoth dismissed his lieutenant. "I knew I could count on you."
An evil smirk spread over his face as he picked up a map depicting  ancient Middle Earth and studied it. "All this will be mine."
A vicious chuckle echoed through the dank halls of the tower, sending chills down the backs of even the most fierce of prisoners trapped within.
Outside, the sun was blotted out by a black cloud that spewed forth from Morgoth's tower, and hope dimmed further for both Elves and Men.

~*~

a/n: so, here we are!  Morgoth is growing ever stronger, feeding on the souls of innocent Elves. He's sent Sauron to find the Dwarves, and now the Nazgul roam the land.  Where are the Valar in all of this? What can little old Elrohir do against Morgoth? Where the heck are the Dwarves, anyways? Fear not, the truth will be revealed soon. Tune in for my next update!