A/N: I was going to put this on yesterday, but I got a little busy. So late Happy Halloween (I guess, I don't really celebrate, but for those of you who do...). The chapter is the treat, the cliffie is the trick! So...
This chapter is dedicated to my mom, who is super awesome and read my story, giving me tips and advice. Although she hasn't read this chapter yet. ;-)
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Ten minutes earlier
"I will kill you," Glorfindel threatened, banging on the door one more time. No noise came from the inside, and satisfied, the Balrog-slayer turned from the twin's room, then suddenly stopped and spun around. This was Elladan's room! Even if the prankster he had just been chasing was trying to fool him, he wouldn't run into his brother's room - this was Elladan! Glorfindel let out a growl of frustration. Why did these two have to be so troublesome? They were either hunting orcs, lying wounded in the Healing Halls, or playing tricks on everyone in sight.
He would have to go get Elrohir, then. The other son of Elrond would probably still be in the halls near the dining area, regaling those elliths with a tale or two. A determined look on his face, Glorfindel started for where he had last seen Elrohir.
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"Shh, penneth," murmured an elf maiden, rocking a tiny elfling back and forth in her arms as she walked down the halls. It was Ioreth, her eyes soft as she gazed down at her sister's son. Her strawberry blond hair was in a gentle twist, spiraling over her shoulder and almost reaching her waist. A few hours ago, Gilren had asked to her to watch her child while she and her husband went on an excursion with a few other elves. They were going to visit the waterfalls on the far side of the valley - it would take them an hour to get there, and they were planning on a picnic lunch there too. Ioreth, of course, readily agreed; she wanted to spend more time with her young nephew and this would be a great time.
"Bafleba," the elfling Duron suddenly informed her, his face breaking into a chubby, toothless grin. A shock of black hair stuck up from his head.
"You don't say!" exclaimed Ioreth, smiling widely at his gibberish.
"Goolata," he agreed excitedly.
Ioreth knew she must look silly talking to an elfling too small to understand her, but she didn't care. She suspected the other elves walking past her in the gardens didn't mind either; the ellyn smiled and kept walking when they caught sight of Duron, and the ellith would coo back at him, delighted. Spying a branch ahead, Ioreth ducked under it nimbly, then turned to go into the trees. She enjoyed the gardens of Imladris; there were very few in Greenwood, but the ones here were beautiful, the perfect blend of plants and trees. Delicate flowers sprang from almost every inch of the ground, and the trees were meticulously kept, trailing their branches high in the air. As a Woodland elf, Ioreth noticed the difference in the trees from here and from Greenwood. The ones here were lighter, more carefree, while the ones at her home had a darker spirit to them, yet they could move at will and easily protect the elves that ran through them.
Ioreth was brought abruptly out of her thoughts by an annoyed tree's mutterings, and a muffled oath from a voice that sounded suspiciously familiar - but was above her head. Taking a cautious step backwards, Ioreth peered up into the tree. She realized she had gotten much closer to the buildings than she had known, and was now right next to a two-story flat that housed residents of Imladris. There was a wild rustle of trees, then suddenly an elf fell out of the tree and slammed into the ground in front of her. Ioreth let out a gasp and skittered backwards, clutching Duron closer to her chest.
The elf that had fallen - it was an ellon, Ioreth realized - let out a frustrated groan and rolled over. As soon as she caught sight of the sling on his arm, she knew who it was. "Elladan!" Ioreth cried in surprise. "What are you doing?"
"Wh - " Elladan stared at her for a moment, then his face turned red, realizing his untimely departure from the tree had been witnessed. Scrambling to his feet, he bowed. "Well met, Ioreth," he said feebly, giving her a cautious smile.
She loosed her tight grip on Duron and cocked her head at him. "May I ask why you fell out of the tree? It seems annoyed at you for some reason."
He smiled beatifically, catching sight of the baby she held and snagging the first idea that came to mind. "Oh, I just thought it would be amusing for the elfling if I landed in front of him."
Ioreth waited.
"No, really, I was working on a report for Trollshaw," Elladan admitted, figuring that she wouldn't be fooled. "But I became bored and decided to sneak out the window because Glorfindel was . . . " he coughed, "he was waiting for me outside my door. I've escaped my room by that way before, but the tree I use to get out of the second story seems to get irritated whenever I climb on it."
"Oh. Very well." Ioreth decided that she would never get a sensible explanation out of him or his brother. "How is your arm?"
"It's fine," he said automatically, then smiled sheepishly. "Not really. It's a bit painful, but nothing I can't handle."
"I'm glad it's healing well," Ioreth said politely.
They stood there for a moment longer - Ioreth trying desperately to think of something to say, Elladan stifling the urge to rub his aching shoulder.
"Hamayama!" shrieked Duron, deciding his new babysitter hadn't been paying attention to him for far too long.
Ioreth's head snapped down to look at him. "Duron!" she scolded half-heartedly.
Elladan had let out a merry laugh. "Were we ignoring you?" he asked the elfling.
"Meph!" Duron affirmed, waving his arms wildly.
"That's terrible." Elladan knit his brow in mock horror, then clasped his right hand over his heart. "Will you ever forgive us for leaving you out of our conversation?"
Ioreth couldn't hold back a laugh when the elfling seemed to understand and let out a audible sniff.
"You wound me, penneth." Elladan smirked, raising his eyebrows at Ioreth. She smiled. "I'm watching him for my sister while she goes with her husband and a few others to the west side."
"Ah, the waterfalls." He nodded. "They are delightful this time of year, with the leaves just beginning to fall."
"I plan on visiting them soon too," she revealed. "I don't know who I would go with, though."
"Imladris is well protected," he told her. "You could travel anywhere within our borders and never be harmed." He seemed about to say something more, when he suddenly tilted his head slightly and frowned.
"What is it?" Ioreth asked, knowing he had heard something, but she sensed nothing of note. Just a few leaves rustling in the slight wind, a soft tread as an elf walked through the paths of the garden, and some birds cheeping overhead.
"Forgive me, my lady," Elladan said, bowing slightly. "I must be off." With an abrupt spin, he vanished into the trees again. Ioreth stared after him in slight confusion. That had been sudden. Wondering what had caused him to leave suddenly, she heard a slight rustle behind her. Turning, Ioreth spied the famed Balrog-slayer coming toward her, his golden hair fluttering loose. She had seen him a few times during her current stay in Imladris, but never spoken to him. He had a powerful aura, but one contained very close to him.
"Ai," greeted Glorfindel, giving her a nod and smiling ever-so-slightly. "Ioreth."
She couldn't have been more shocked. He knew her name? She bowed, taking care not to let Duron slip. "My lord."
A smile flitted across his face, then seriousness retook him. "Pardon me for disrupting the time with your nephew," he said, "but I have a small question for you. Have you seen Elrohir anywhere about?"
"Elrohir?" Ioreth confirmed.
He nodded.
"I'm afraid not," she said. "But I did just see his brother. Might you ask him?"
Something akin to an evil glint sprang in his eyes, but Ioreth mentally shook her head. She had to be imagining things.
"Oh yes," Glorfindel said, fighting a triumphant grin. "He would help me considerably."
"He went that way," Ioreth volunteered, pointing in the direction Elladan had practically fled.
"Thank you very much," Glorfindel said, nodded once more, then hurriedly walked in the direction she had pointed.
As soon as he was out of sight, Ioreth grinned down into her nephew's face. "Did you see him," she asked Duron excitedly. "The Balrog-slayer! I talked to him!"
"Mee-am," was his answer.
"You're lucky," she told him mock-seriously. "You get to grow up with the reborn Elf-lord living in your very halls!"
But meanwhile, the legendary Balrog-slayer was practically sprinting after the son of Elrond. He caught up to Elladan at the very edge of the garden. As soon as the older twin saw him, he unconsciously tucked his left arm in close to his body, throwing his right hand out. "Wait! Glorfindel, I'm not Elrohir!"
"Yes, I know that." He grinned with a malicious twinkle in his eyes. "I'd like to know just where Elrohir is. He evaded me in the halls. Where would he have gone?"
But Elladan could never betray his twin to an Elf-lord out for revenge. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he just snuck off to the kitchens. It has been a while since we last ate, after all, far too long!"
"Are you sure he's in the kitchen?" Glorfindel took another step forward, not fooled by his innocent act.
"Quite . . . sure." The twin hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision and spun, sprinting away. So he was going to run for it, was he? A malevolent look on his fair face, Glorfindel shot after him.
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Lindir was enjoying a peaceful day in the courtyard. His fingers danced nimbly over his lyre, melodious music filling the air. Today was just perfect . . . birds chirping happily along with his song, a few elves listening also as they read books, and the sky sunny and clear. The stone floor did have a few puddles of water on it from the rainfall the night before, but he had avoided them easily when coming in. His lyre was resting on the large fountain in the middle of the courtyard, Lindir seated next to it, plucking the strings lightly.
But he should've expected something bad to happen. Just moments after thinking that this day was the one that he would not be bothered by some sudden interruption, there was a shriek from around the corner of the closest building. A second later, a dark-haired son of Elrond sprinted into view. Lindir's fingers stuttered once, missed a string, and the song was ruined.
The minstrel let out a groan as he stopped playing. Elladan - it had to be Elladan, he had a white sling on his left arm - glanced over his shoulder anxiously in time to see Glorfindel bearing down on him, golden hair flying behind him.
"Don't kill me!" Elladan shrieked. "It wasn't my idea to do it, and I don't know where Elrohir is anyway!"
Silence was worse than a retort from the Balrog-slayer when it came to running for your life, though. Glorfindel just ran faster.
Lindir tried to ignore the two elves bearing down on him, blinking as he recalled the notes to his song. "After the triple stutter," he prompted himself, remembering where he had messed up. Nodding, Lindir raised his fingers to the strings again. He was used to seeing people chasing the sons of Elrond, and the best thing to do was to ignore them until they went away.
Unless they involved you in their dispute. Lindir cringed as Elladan caught sight of him. "Please don't," he whispered. But Elladan either didn't hear or chose not to, and dashed over to him. "Save me," he ordered the minstrel frantically.
"I'd prefer not to?" Lindir said, but his voice rose at the end, making it a question.
Elladan didn't notice that either. "Please! I'm wounded!" He gave his shoulder a pitiful look.
"No," Lindir decided. "No no no no no. I'm not helping you. Not this time." He grabbed his lyre and scooted a few feet away down the fountain. Water shot up in an arc behind him, providing the perfect backdrop to his songs . . . if he could ever get back to them!
"Fine!" Elladan had already lost time trying to convince the suddenly-stubborn minstrel, and darted away, Glorfindel only a dozen feet away. Keeping his head down, Lindir was dismayed to see that instead of just running full-out to go somewhere else, the twin decided to turn and sprint alongside the water fountain. Going in a gradual curve - it was more than a few dozen feet around - Elladan had almost made it back to Lindir . . .
- and out of the corner of his eye, Lindir saw the twin skid on a hidden puddle of water, fly a few feet, then slam into the hard rock ground out of sight. Lindir waited a few moments for him to leap back to his feet and continue trying to escape, but nothing happened. Glorfindel caught up to his fallen target and vanished too, crouching down next to him.
Lindir became worried after the blond head also didn't reappear. Setting his lyre down, the minstrel climbed to his feet and hurried over to help. He found Elladan lying flat on the ground, his legs symmetrical, arms splayed to the side, and his head hidden by a sheet of dark hair. Glorfindel was kneeling next to him, worriedly checking for a pulse.
As Lindir dropped down next to the unconscious twin and the Balrog-slayer, he could hear feet padding as more elves, abandoning their books, came to see if their resident prankster was fine. Lindir himself was anxious to know if Elladan was all right, and he let out an unconscious sigh of relief when Glorfindel nodded in reassurance and sat back.
Glorfindel had to make sure that he wasn't wounded though, so he gently ran his fingers over the edge of Elladan's sling and pulled it off. Peeling away the edge of his tunic, Glorfindel checked the bandages to see if there was any blood that meant the wound had reopened. When he was sure that it hadn't, he tied the sling back into place and let out a breath, then scowled down at the unconscious Peredhel.
"Now how am I going to find Elrohir?" he complained quietly, but Lindir could tell he had been worried and still was.
"Is he okay?" Lindir asked, feeling useless.
"He is," Glorfindel said. "He's going to regret slipping on water though. An elf falling? By a natural element?" He shook his head, calling up a smirk. "I'm going to tell everyone about this."
Lindir was staring down at Elladan's face. It was still partly covered by locks of his dark hair. A sudden urge made him brush the strands back and the hair fell beside him, revealing his delicate elven features and pale face. His eyes were half-lidded, and the minstrel was very relieved to see that they were not closed completely, which would mean he might have suffered a head wound. Footsteps were heard halting right next to Lindir, and he looked up to see two concerned ellith, their books forgotten on the other side of the courtyard.
One's hands were clasped over her mouth, her grey eyes searching Elladan's limp form uneasily. She had apparently never seen one of the twins right after they had done something stupid and gotten hurt. "Oh dear," she breathed. "What happened?"
"He fell," Glorfindel said simply. He would wait to humiliate the twin after he was sure that he would be well, probably once he woke up.
"He's moving!" exclaimed the other elf maiden, pointing at Elladan suddenly.
Lindir's gaze snapped back down to the oldest twin, and indeed he was returning to consciousness, his eyes flickering shut as he winced in pain.
"Don't move," cautioned Glorfindel, but Elladan didn't notice, of course. His right arm came up and he pressed two fingers against his forehead, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't say anything though, just letting out a small groan.
"Does your head hurt?" Lindir asked, then figured it was a stupid question.
"Mmph," was the twin's answer. His eyes finally crept open, and Lindir automatically leaned forward to check his pupils in case of a concussion. He might not have been a healer, but he knew that much. Glorfindel had just returned his attention to the twin after waving away the worried ellith.
The first thing he noticed was that Elladan's eyes were not normal.
Definitely not normal.
The pupils were expanding so rapidly, the completely swallowed the rich brown of his iris and crept across the white part of his eyes. In moments, his eyes were completely black, and the edges of his eyes seemed to be leaking darkness.
Lindir stumbled backwards.
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Ohh...that was awesome! At least you (kinda) found out what happened to Elladan! I might explain what in the world is happening in the next chapter, maybe not. /evil grin from my plot bunny/ Oh, about Ioreth . . . she has a case of hero-worship for Glorfindel. That's why she's all excited when he talks to her.
So actually, I'm going to let my readers decide! Whose POV should it be in next? Erestor, Elrond, Glorfindel, Elladan, or Elrohir? Or another...? Let me know in your comments! Thanks for reading!
TBC