"The day rolls in, the night rolls out,

Desire rules without a doubt,

The heart beats fast, you salivate

And when you come it won't be late.

I guess by now you got the score

A little taste, you want it more."

Aerosmith -- 'Flesh'

Chapter IX: Concluding the Nightmare

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thranduil snarled, drawing his sword.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued...