A Forgotten Friendship: A Middle Earth Fan Fiction

A Deceiver

Guards were commodities that Rivendell was known for not having. For protection, they relied on themselves, for indeed these elves were as skilled in battle as they were hospitable. Goblins, trolls, and other unspeakable things, lurked in the mountains high above the beautiful valley. But while guards were not expected by the returning Arwen (who was now quite a fugitive in the eyes of her confused father) they were very present. Not only were these warriors present, but they were around every corner. Each nook, notch, and cranny of the intricate halls was bursting with them.

Arwen was taking care to skirt around the forest's edge in her quest to find shelter. When she felt certain that the path was clear, and could just see the small wooden door leading down into the fortresses underbelly she took a step onto the road and quick as lightning retracted it in a single move. The haze pushing the corners of her mind had dulled the sound of an oncoming horse, thundering along the path as if sent on an urgent errand.

Being careful to avoid any other possible travelers, the road was well watched and the silence well listened to before the elf dared move another step. The short run to the doorway was uneventful, and soon Arwen had succeeded in at least finding shelter for the night. Nothing occupied the room into which she had just come, but another door at the chambers opposite wall seemed to loom in the dimness. The door itself was heavy, solid, and not meant to be opened; that much was for sure. At its arched top, a window could be found within the wood, barred and minuscule. 

But while mystery is tempting and danger commonly brings on anxious alertness, magic is a much more irresistible force. So while there was only a cold stone floor, Arwen found it a most comfortable bed that night.

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"Why does it have to be her?"

"I don't know."

"If you're giving up the most beautiful elleth in Middle Earth for a silvan, there has to be a difference, Las."

Legolas scowled at the pestering, and the childish nickname. When his life long friend, Weoyn, had heard of his unapproved journey to Imladris, he had insisted on coming along. While Legolas only saw a want of adventure, Weoyn's motives were chiefly worry and loyalty. He had grown up with the prince, watched him become the leader he was in that day. He was familiar with his positive attributes, yet also well acquainted with the shortcomings; and, in his simple, honest nature, wished to make up for those flaws. 

"Perhaps you are right, maybe there is a reason," Legolas admitted, as they walked slowly under the forest's sinister canopy. "But if there was, why should I tell the likes of you?"

"Fine." A shrug, "I didn't want to know anyway."

Legolas wasn't surprised when he looked over and saw the offense on his companion's face. Weoyn always cared, and was a bit sensitive to say the least. His features were delicate - more like the elves of Rivendell than of Greenwood - and his eyes large orbs that always gave him a youthful appearance of complete innocence. He was slight in figure, but was very agile and quick. 

"You know I didn't mean to imply mistrust. If I could understand fully how I felt, you would know, just like you always have."

The younger elf smiled softly, reassured by the prince's words. "Of course. How could I have been so stupid?" 

A good natured reply was swiftly cut off by a rustling in the woods. Legolas drew his bow and stepped in front of Weoyn in one instinctive action and nearly sent an arrow flying too soon. 

"Ranlin?" The weapon was returned to its place and a questioning look leaped onto the elves faces. Out of breath, the ranger took a moment to compose himself before bowing hastily. 

"I followed you back after about a day, sir. Elrond has recovered his wits and wishes to apologize personally for his actions. You are welcome to come and recover your friend!"

Strange though it all seemed, the words seemed so sincere coming from this persuasive individual, lodging themselves into the mind. "So it was but a fit of madness?" Legolas asked gently.

"Yes! Please don't provoke another with your tarrying; we must make haste!"

And with that, two unsuspecting elves were lured into the hands of a deceiver.