Underneath my skin

Eyes are looking in

For something within

Somewhere in here

Finger Eleven -- ‘Good Times’

Chapter III: Dreams and Discussions

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

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

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

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

"Should I take your silence as an affirmative?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think he is coming to..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued...