Disclaimer: Don’t own it, never will.

                                                                     Chapter 18

                                                  As darkness fell, an uneasy silence surrounded the Keep. The tension in the air was almost palpable as the night patrol prepared to leave. Haldir’s mouth was a grim line as he crossed the courtyard to his waiting horse. His composure was seldom shaken, but he had to admit to a sense of unease this night. He could almost taste the evil in the air. In all his experience, he had never felt this sensation so strongly. Orcs were not the source of this feeling he was certain, although he could sense them in the cover of the trees. He turned to see Elladan and Elrohir making their way across the courtyard. From the manner in which they carried themselves, Haldir knew they felt the same evil presence he did. They nodded a greeting to him but did not speak. Haldir was torn. He did not wish to neglect his duty, but he had a nagging impression that the patrol should not leave the Keep. A frown marred his countenance, what he would not give at this moment for Lady Galadriel’s guidance. A volley of arrows from the trees outside the Keep made his decision for him. On the walls, three guardsmen fell, one mortally wounded, as a shout went up from the courtyard.

                                                  “To arms! We are under attack!” Narilt’s shout produced the desired effect and the combined force of elves and humans took to the wall, bows in hand. Armed warriors poured from the keep to aid their comrades on the wall. From the doorway leading to the Great Hall, Legolas and Thranduil emerged at a run, Legolas still buckling his quiver in place. As soon as it was fastened, he retrieved his bow from his father’s hand never slowing his pace, and nimbly scaled the stairs to the upper wall his father less than a pace behind bow in hand and quiver on his back.

                                            Looking out across the grassy verge between the trees and the Keep, Thranduil grimaced at the sight of literally hundreds of orcs. Beside him, Legolas was already loosing arrows faster almost than the eye could follow. Thranduil followed suit. He was accounted a fair archer, but not anywhere near his son’s level. Thranduil’s talent lay with the sword and he hoped fervently that it would not be needed in this battle. He lost all track of time, alternately shooting and dodging arrows. Suddenly, a movement at the foot of the wall caught his attention, and he gripped Legolas’ arm.

                                            “They are attempting to scale the wall.” He directed his son’s gaze toward the foot of the wall.

                                             “We shall see about that,” Legolas stated grimly, taking aim. His arrows halted the action below them, but similar activity continued all along the perimeter of the Keep. A noise behind them caused Thranduil to turn apprehensively. On the wide walkway behind them the humans had built fires at regular intervals and placed large metal cauldrons over each fire. An acrid smell wafted over them. Narilt moved swiftly along the wall, shouting instructions and assisting in removing dead and injured warriors as he went.

                                             “Try to keep them down just a bit longer, my lords. As soon as it is ready, we will be dropping hot oil and pitch on them. Should make them think twice about climbing.” He smiled grimly and moved on. True to his prediction, two men lifted each cauldron carried it to the wall and dumped the contents over the side. Hideous shrieks and cries of pain followed this action and the orcs fell back to the tree line. The cauldrons were replaced and refilled swiftly as the Keep’s defenders took advantage of the brief reprieve to reload their quivers. Water skins were passed to wet mouths long since gone dry, and the defenders stood ready awaiting the foul creature’s next move.

                                              Haldir moved swiftly along the wall, keeping low to avoid becoming a target for an orc’s arrow. He made contact with each of his warriors, having placed them at what he deemed to be strategic points on the Keep’s wall. He was relieved to note that none were seriously wounded. As he moved from one to the next, his mind was moving as swiftly as his feet. Orcs did not fight like this. There was a greater intelligence directing this attack, but to what end? Spotting Legolas and Thranduil ahead, he made his way to them.

                                                 “How fare you, my lords?” Haldir knelt behind Legolas’ shoulder laying a hand on the younger elf’s back. Legolas spared him a slight grin before turning his attention back to the tree line.

                                                 “Well enough for the moment, but I will admit to wishing myself far from here,” Legolas quipped without humor. Haldir grimaced in agreement.

                                                  “As do we all, I think. King Thranduil, what do you make of this attack?” Haldir was nothing if not direct and, true to his nature, got straight to the point. Thranduil frowned, considering for a moment before replying.

                                                    “I have the same impression of this attack that I had of the one that brought us here. This is not random. Orcs simply do not have the intelligence to carry out action like this on their own.” He turned to face his companions, his eyes dark as storm clouds. “I think that there is much more at stake here than we can even guess at, and I fear for the safety of my people if we are overrun.” He locked eyes with his son, not surprised to see that Legolas had already come to the same conclusion.

                                                 “I had the same impression.” Haldir confirmed. “What is more, Glorfindel is of the same mind on this. He and I spoke of it before we left Imladris. Someone wants you out of their way, King Thranduil, and probably Legolas as well.”

                                                  “So I have believed from the start. The question is who.” Thranduil’s expression was grim. “And I believe we may have the answer to that before the night is done, I only pray that we are all alive to see it.”  Haldir’s answer was a nod and he moved away to continue contacting his warriors.

                                                   “Is this a private party, or may a scruffy human and two warriors join?” Elrohir’s voice was light, but his expression belied his tone. Estel was preoccupied enough to let the remark pass as he moved to Legolas’ side, clasping his friend’s forearm in greeting. Elladan followed Elrohir to the wall next to Estel.

                                                   “No, join us and welcome. What kept you?” Legolas shot a look at the twins.

                                                   “We stayed in the Hall long enough to help Ada set up a makeshift hall of healing. Most of the good places on the wall were taken by the time we got outside, but I believe this will do. Trust you to find a prime location, Legolas,” Elladan remarked without rancor. They fell silent, searching the tree line for any sign of another wave of attackers.

                                                Inside the Great Hall, Elrond, Letha, and Weder tended the wounded. Elrond moved from pallet to pallet, assessing the extent of injuries and offering comfort where he could. It had been a very long time since he last had tended so many human patients. Forcing back the unpleasant memories that resurrected, he continued until he reached the last pallet. Grateful for a respite, he hurriedly secured a cup of water and moved to the doorway of the Hall. Several guardsmen stood at the door, a precaution in case the orcs happened to breech the Keep.

                                                “Any news from the wall?” Elrond address the highest ranking of the men.

                                                 “Well, they tried to climb the wall, but the hot oil and pitch we dropped on ‘em made ‘em back off. No word since then, Lord Elrond. No news be good news.” The human searched the elf lord’s face for reaction.

                                                 “One hopes so, at least,” Elrond replied, his face impassive. He was deeply worried, something was very wrong outside the keep. Elrond occasionally had what humans would call hunches, feelings of foreboding that he had learned over his lifetime to heed. He began to regret his decision to remain within the Keep to tend the wounded. He was warrior-trained and no stranger to battle, although he preferred to take the peaceful road when he could. He was also the most skilled healer in the Keep and that had motivated his decision. It had seemed the best course of action at the time, but as the foreboding feeling grew, his doubts did as well. He gave a reassuring smile to the guards, masking his inner turmoil, and merely bade them keep him informed as they were able.

                                                Legolas’ sharp eyes caught movement in the trees and he turned calling out to his fellow defenders, “They come again!” Arrows were notched swiftly and the defenders began firing as soon as they sighted targets. This time, the attack was less organized and no attempt was made to climb the wall. The foul creatures did have a try at battering down the gates, but were repelled by the oil and pitch the defenders dropped upon them. Wave after wave assaulted the keep and the supply of arrows began to run low. A hand to hand battle seemed inevitable, and arrows were consolidated and given to the best of the archers as the rest of the defenders prepared to make use of their other weapons.

                                                Legolas remained on the wall; even though he was somewhat less than hale he was still the best of the archers. Thranduil, the twins, and Estel had joined the rest of the defenders swords in hand. As he watched his father walk away, a strange feeling of dread seized Legolas. Berating himself for allowing the distraction, he refocused his attention on his task. No sooner had he done so than a new wave of orc attackers assaulted the keep. Howling and jeering they ran across the verge, and began once again to climb the walls. Even the methods that had repelled them earlier had little effect this time, for the sheer number of orcs was such that when one fell, three would take its place. A fowl wind began to blow, chilling the defenders to the bone. Out of the night sky, a shadow blacker than midnight swept across the Keep. Laughter, deep and vile poured from the shadow as it swept across the heights. Legolas looked up, eyes widening in sheer terror as he breathed a single word.

                                             “Ulairi!”

Another evil cliffie! For those who don’t know what an Ulairi is, I suppose you’ll just have to wait with baited breath for the next chapter.  Those of you who do know, don’t spill the beans, please. Feel free to curse my name if it makes you feel better. < evil grin>