Inside the Beast
By tHe InSaNe OnE
AN- ^_^ It's up....really, this is a chapter and as for the epilogue, well, I'm hoping within the week. *crosses fingers* It all depends on school workload.
I am not going to make excuses because there are none worth telling. I just want to apologize for making all sixty plus of you wait. It really makes me feel guilty. You all are great reviewers, especially those of you who nagged me to death about getting it up. Well you have what you want! ^_^ I hope you like it.
There are no review responses at the bottom of this chapter *dodges reviewers* Yes, I've read every single one of your wonderful reviews and enjoyed them immensely, however, I don't think you remember what you said five months ago. Therefore, I will thank you *bows* and respond *g* to all your reviews for this chapter. I promise....
*sobs* Please forgive me.
This is especially dedicated to Helen T who would not leave me alone and generally bugged me everyday. Thanks for your prodding, poking, whining, smacking, eye rolls, yelling and well, just everything. This wouldn't be up without you.
^_^ Many thanks to my beta Arien..... who is betaing this chapter as we speak but ^_^ I'm posting. I want this up now....
So read and enjoy folks.....one last chapter/epilogue (I'm not sure which yet).
~*~
They had dragged him.
The man had been so ill that one of the elves had put him on a horse, and left with him straight off. That meant Sméagol had been left with the other two elves. He had cowered, and whimpered, and had acted over all pathetic as they tried to decide how to transport him to the palace; however, none of the acting had worked. They did not let him up on one of their horses.
They had dragged him behind the horses.
He hated elves. Elves were creatures he had always disliked but the dislike was growing to full blown hatred. They not only dragged him behind a horse, but also had wrapped another rope around his neck. The rope had burned, and his feet and hands had been cut from running too fast; and eventually, he acquired cuts from being dragged after he could no longer run.
He hated elves.
When they had finally reached the palace, the elves had stopped their horses and started conversing about what they should do with him. They did not want to leave him on his own for they did not trust him, but they also did not want to be near him. They decided to take him to the sword training area, and tie him to a post. Then, they sat down as far away as they could, and waited.
From the bit of conversation Sméagol had picked up, he apparently smelled bad.
That wasn't his fault, now was it?
So, Sméagol sat, tugging at the rope and staring at the elves. He could not tell if the elves realized he was watching them or not, but he decided if they did know, they would be more on guard. They were always so tense when he watched them.
"Ssstupid, elvesssess," Sméagol moaned, pulling at the rope. "Evil, nasssty elvessess."
"Sssmeagol?"
Sméagol twitched slightly as the voice started to speak to him again. As much as he hated the elves, he truly did not want to speak to the voice. The voice would do something bad, something terribly awful. Then the elves would be very angry and they would hurt him.
"Leave me alone," Sméagol sniffed, giving up on the rope for the moment.
"What isss wrong with Sssmeagol?" the voice cooed, petting his head.
Sméagol wanted to resist but the voice was being kind. He was desperate for kindness at the moment. More than anything else, he wanted some sort of comfort or advice. He wanted someone to sympathize with him, to hate the elves with him and to despise the man for leaving him. But wait, who was thinking these thoughts? Was it him? No, those thoughts sounded too much like something the voice would ponder.
"Elveses," Sméagol whimpered, giving in to the voice.
"There, there, precioousss," the voice soothed, stroking his head and face. Patting him on the face, it continued. "Weess will essscape and wees will ssshow them."
"They dragged us," Sméagol said, fiddling once more with the rope.
"We knows precciouuss," the voice whispered. "We iss ssssoorrry."
"They did not feed us," Sméagol whined, his stomach growling to prove his point.
"Wees will escape, Ssmeagol, we willsss," the voice comforted one last time, in its own evil way. Then it left once more, for the elves were approaching.
Bellmaethor looked at Sméagol with vague curiosity, carefully keeping a good five feet between himself and the creature. If it was possible, the beast look more pitiful than it did when they had first discovered it. It was cut, though most of the scrapes were minor and already scabbed over. Large golden eyes were filled with tears and self pity; but there was something else there too that made the elf a bit uncomfortable.
"What should we do with it?" Saelmin questioned, as he too stared at Sméagol. Prince Legolas had given the both of them firm orders to watch the 'thing' and make sure it didn't escape.
"I don't know," Bellmaethor answered, sitting back on his heals. A frown graced his fair face. "He sure looks awful, doesn't he?"
Saelmin worried at his chin. "Aye, he could stand a good meal or two." He met Bellmaethor's eyes and his entire attitude towards the situation changed nearly immediately. "Oh no- no! We are not going to keep it! Don't you dare become attached to it!"
"But Saelmin, mellon nin!" Bellmaethor exclaimed. "Look at it; it needs love and care. Please!"
Sméagol watched the one elf with the dark hair plead with his companion. This could be used to his advantage. The sympathy; the compassion. It almost appeared as though the elf pitied him. Grinning to himself, he put on his most sorrowful, underfed, unloved face.
"I am hungry," he sniffed, giving the dark haired elf large, innocent eyes.
Bellmaethor looked at him kindly. Though he had not been sure of the creature at first, he was sure with a bit of love and care, the beast would not be half as bad as he seemed. When he was a child, he had the tendency to pick up animals; wargs, spiders, squirrels, and anything else he came across that needed help. He, Saelmin and the prince had caused a lot of trouble bringing such creatures around and in the palace. Bellmaethor could not help but wince as he remembered what had happened when they had brought the warg puppy back.
"Well," Bellmaethor said, standing up and edging around Gollum. His pity for the beast only reached so far, and he wasn't sure he would allow it very close to him yet. "We'll feed you then."
Saelmin immediately started to protest. "But, mellon nin-"
"Oh come now, Saelmin!" Bellmaethor said with a grin, untying the rope from the post and wrapping it around his hand. "We can just take him down to the stream just outside the palace walls, and then, we can feed him something. It will not hurt a thing."
Saelmin's expression clearly stated 'why did the Valar do this to me' but letting out a sigh, he silently agreed. There was no way he could argue his way out of this. When Bellmaethor decided he was going to help an animal or some sort of creature, there was no stopping him. 'Perhaps that is why he has such trouble fighting orcs' Saelmin thought, as he followed Bellmaethor and the beast, one hand on his sword. 'His heart is too soft.'
Having a soft heart could prove fatal.
Bellmaethor did not even realize that his friend was on guard as he gently led the strange creature out to the stream. He had never seen anything quite like it. Its thin, scraggly appearance seemed to be like a human's or an elf's though it was smaller. Everything else about it though, seemed rather unnatural. From its skin tone, to its large golden eyes, everything seemed a bit morphed. 'I wonder what it is' the elf thought, scanning the creature. 'Or maybe, what it was....'
The stream was quick moving and the water was cool and clear. It was nicely refreshing, and Bellmaethor knew it would be perfect for this strange animal to clean itself off in and for it to get a drink from. Then they could feed it, tie it back up and go inside. After all, the sun was starting to set and it was getting late.
"Here you go," the dark haired elf said to Sméagol, giving the creature enough leeway to go into the stream.
Sméagol looked at the elf with clear distrust. Was this some sort of trick? Was the water filled with elf magic? Well, he would take his chances. This particular elf seemed too kind to actually want to harm him. Tentatively, Sméagol put a hand into the water. Nothing happened; he was not eaten or possessed by anything. Deserting caution completely, Sméagol splashed into the water. The stream soothed the cuts on his skin, and the mild sunburn he had from travelling during the day. Letting out a sigh, he flattened himself onto the bottom of the stream so only his eyes and nose were above the water.
Saelmin came up next to Bellmaethor, his lips pursed. Every time he glanced at the creature that Bellmaethor was becoming fond of, he saw the evil glint in those eyes. Something about this beast was simply not right. From the very way it looked, down to the soul Saelmin could see through those large golden orbs, there was corruption. This creature was not the way it had been when it was born. Something had changed it.
"Saelmin, do you have some lembas?" Bellmaethor's question snapped the blonde warrior out of his thoughts.
"Aye, a bit," Saelmin said, reaching down into one of his pockets and pulling out a half eaten wafer.
Bellmaethor took it from him, smiling to himself as he watched the creature in the water. Now, a bit of food for it and then back to the post; he and Saelmin could have someone else watch it while they cleaned up and rested a bit. Tugging a bit on the rope to get Smeagol's attention, he held out the waver of bread.
"Are you still hungry?" the elf called to the beast. Sméagol's head jerked up and he looked at the elf curiously. Crawling slowly towards him, he sniffed the bread in the elf's hand.
"Nasssty elf bread," he whined, backing away. "We do not likesss the nasssty elf bread."
Bellmaethor continued holding out the bread anyway. "Come now," he coaxed. "Tis not that bad, little one. It will fill you right up."
Sméagol only moved further away from Bellmaethor. He could escape now, while the elf was off guard. The voice was speaking to him, gently prodding him on in his head. He could get away, and then, he could have his revenge. He could get back at the man for leaving him here in this mess. Yes, the voice was right. The man didn't really care. He should have taken care of the man when he had the chance. Now, he was stuck here with these elves. Wait, this sounded too much like the voice, not him. Was he the voice?
His ponderings were stopped nearly immediately as the dark hair elf stepped into the stream. The elf came scarily close and Sméagol instinctively backed away. The fair being's nose wrinkled and he stepped back looking slightly displeased.
"Saelmin," Bellmaethor said, turning to his friend. Saelmin went on guard as soon as he saw his friend's imploring gaze.
"What is it?" the elf asked, his hand still clutching the hilt of his sword.
"Do you think you could fetch some soap and maybe, I don't know, some fruit and cheese and a bit of mea-"
"No!" Saelmin nearly shouted, cutting his friend off. "No! No! No! We are not going to bathe this thing! I allowed you to bring it down here so it could get a drink and clean itself. I let you offer it food as well! If it was hungry enough it would eat the lembas! I am not going to fetch food for it like some sort of servant! It's clean enough! Let's take it back, tie it up, find someone to watch it and REST!"
Bellmaethor had practiced the art of giving large, green puppy dog eyes for many, many years. Putting the technique to use, he stared at Saelmin imploringly, begging his friend to understand. When Saelmin's face remained the same, the elf sighed and hung his head.
"Okay then.....I will go get something for it," Bellmaethor sniffed, brushing a loose strand of his brown hair from his face. Shoving the guide rope into Saelmin's hands, he shook the water off his boots. "But that means you shall wait here with it."
Saelmin's silver eyes were glowing dangerously. Resisting the urge to smash his head into the nearest tree, he drew his sword and held it tightly in his hand, clinging to the rope in his other. "Did anything I just said get through to you?"
Bellmaethor smiled innocently, starting back towards the castle. "I'll be back in five minutes. Just stand with him. He'll be just fine relaxing where he is." Pausing for a moment, he finished up by saying firmly, "And don't threaten him or scare him. If you bait him, he might attack." With that, he slipped back into the walls surrounding the castle courtyard.
"Bait him......me? I do not need to bait him....." Saelmin mumbled, yanking on the elven cord, to make sure it was secure. The back of his mind told him that the creature was not going anywhere, and he shifted uneasily as the large golden eyes focused on him. A dark intention was clear there, and a shiver went down his spine.
From his place in the river, the voice smirked. Sméagol was fully his now, his moral sense no longer resisting against the voice's dark ambitions. Crawling slowly towards the bank, the morphed hobbit waited for a second, keeping its large orb eyes focused on the blond elf. Then, with very little warning, it struck.
~*~
The storm had settled upon Mirkwood with a vengeance. Torrents of rain soaked the ground, covering the grass with small rivers and making the brook overflow. The wind blew fiercely, snapping small saplings, dragging branches off of trees. Lightning lit up even the darkest areas of the forest and thunder roared so loudly that the entire palace seemed to shake. Not one person was outside any longer.
When the creature had escaped, there had been mayhem. Everyone searched for it, looking nearly everywhere but Sméagol was good at hiding. That and he was good at hunting. They were two talents that he was rather proud of and now was putting to use. Hiding in the bowels of a hollow tree, he awaited until the storm was at its worst before emerging.
The blond elf had not been easily taken down. A stinging cut across Sméagol's face attested to that. He scowled darkly as he recalled wrestling the blade from the elf's hand and then knocking it unconscious. Though it had been tempting to kill it, he had not had the time and had fled the scene; not with out a trinket though. In his teeth, he now held a dagger that he had stolen off of the unconscious elf's body. It was going to be put to good use.
Slinking through the tree branches, he nimbly avoided debris that was being blown around by the wind. He knew that the man was in one of the many rooms that he could see, and he was determined to find that room. The bit of him that liked the man had been thoroughly destroyed, leaving only a deep bitterness. The man had brought him here, and left him with the awful, nasty elves. The man had never really cared about him.
Letting the angry feelings fuel him, Sméagol continued prowling the trees, searching for the proper room. The night was growing older and there were very few windows still lit up. Something inside of him told him that the man would be in a room with a lit window, so he skipped the darkened ones. He could not linger, for once the storm was gone so was his cover. He would have to make his revenge swift.
The first lighted window proved to not be the man's and the second was not either. Sméagol felt frustration joining the swirling emotions within him. The rain was biting at him and every once in a while, a sharp twig would slap him. He was cold, hungry and hurting, and along with the irritation in not being able to find the man, he was starting to become overwhelmed.
The third window glowed brightly and hopefully for the lanky creature, and it pressed its face against the glass pane. Though the rain smudged the window, his large eyes could make out what was in there. An elf with dark hair was sitting on the bed, resting against the back board. In his arms, he held the man. Sméagol noted that the elf's face was stained with tears and he looked terribly distraught about something. The man in his arms seemed very unaware of it all, his face pale and still.
Sméagol squatted low on the windowsill pondering his options. He wasn't sure if he could take both the elf and the man at the same time. Even with the man weakened by illness, he could still easily overpower the corrupted being. Sighing in a disgruntled fashion, the creature waited to see if the elf would leave. The knife in his mouth glistened slightly, reflecting the brightly burning fire within. Oh what he would do to be in front of that fire and warming himself.
Time seemed to pass very slowly for Sméagol. Very little seemed to change in the room, and the elf only moved to tenderly stroke the man's face, or to wipe the man's forehead with a cloth. Sméagol was beginning to despair when finally, something happened. The elf gently removed the man from his lap and settled him back on the bed, wrapping several blankets around him. Kissing the man's forehead, the elf silently departed the room.
Sméagol couldn't believe his luck but spent no time pondering it. He slowly worked the window and managed to open it. He sneaked into the room soundlessly, eyeing everything around him with utter suspicion. Anything in an elven home could attack and be an enemy. He had to be on his guard. Making his way towards the bed, he prepared to strike the unaware person who rested in it.
~*~
Legolas rubbed his eyes wearily, not being able to remember the last time he had had such a trying day. Between finding Estel half alive and the escape of the creature, he was incredibly over stimulated. A pounding headache was eating away at him and exhaustion was making him feel heavy. The healers in the other room had just reassured him that Saelmin, despite his numerous injuries, would be just fine. In fact, the blond elf had been yelling at Bellmaethor when the prince had departed. He couldn't help but take that as a good sign.
Now he wanted to go to bed. He wanted to flop down onto his soft, feather mattress and sleep until the world ended. However, his mind and heart would not let him yet. He could not rest peacefully until he knew more of Aragorn's condition. When he had left, the fever had been raging and the man had been simply deteriorating. If that was still the case, then the prince knew, even as tired as he was, that he would find no sleep.
A sigh escaped him as he trudged down the hall towards the room where he had left Estel and Lord Elrond. Though he knew that the elf lord and the man had fought in the past, he could see that Elrond was terribly concerned for his son. Any feeling of anger towards the elf lord had long since melted away. After all, such emotions were no help in such a dire situation. Right now all that mattered was Estel's getting better.
He was nearly to the room when he saw Elrond coming towards him. The elf lord was a mess. His long, ebony hair was a tangled knot upon his head and his eyes were glazed with fear and exhaustion. His face was stained with what appeared to be tears, which made Legolas' heart twist. Was Estel gone already? Was the elf lord coming to inform him of the man's demise? The rumpled appearance of the elf was enough to confirm it.
"My lord," the blond greeted cautiously as the half elf stopped before him.
"Prince Legolas," Elrond replied formally, his voice rather hoarse. "I thought you would be asleep by now...."
Legolas grimaced, once again the image of a warm bed with a cosy fire flashed through his mind. He pushed it away though. "I would be, my lord, but unfortunately since your son's arrival, the entire house has been in an uproar." His lips twitched into a smile. "Estel has a way of causing such things."
Elrond's face lightened slightly. "Aye, he does. Is there anything I can help with?"
"No," Legolas said, with a shake of his head. "All you need to do is make Estel better. My father and I will worry about the recapture of the creature Estel brought."
Elrond stared at Legolas for a moment. The creature had escaped? No! Not after Estel had driven himself to the point of death to bring it here! How could Legolas' guard been so irresponsible. Elrond swallowed his anger and muttered rather dully, "It has escaped?"
Legolas nodded, seeing the upset look in the others eyes. "He attacked the guard that was watching him, and knocked him unconscious. He can't have gotten far in this storm, and as soon as it quiets, be assured that our best hunting parties will be searching for him. Estel's sacrifice will not be in vain." He paused, and his voice choked as he asked the question on his mind. "How does he fare?"
Elrond ran a hand over his face and lowered his head for a moment. A heavy sigh escaped him. "He sleeps."
Legolas' heart jumped to his throat, knowing that such a phrase could have more than one meaning. Fighting back the tears that were coming to his eyes, he opened his mouth to ask a question but Elrond continued.
"The fever is lower but even so, it drains him of the little strength he has," the elf lord whispered. "If he is to recover, it will need to break soon or the dehydration will-" He did not continue, unable to utter the words.
Legolas felt a wave of intense relief. Estel was still alive and doing a bit better. It wasn't much, and there was still bad news but the fear that had been eating at the elf prince diminished slightly. Running a hand over his head, he tried to push out some of the knots. Things were going to get better. After all, once he hit rock bottom the only way to go was up, right?
"Well, it is good to hear his fever is down some," the prince whispered. "May I go see him before I go to bed?"
Elrond nodded, "Aye, I'll be back in a moment." He rubbed his head, showing he was obviously suffering from a headache. "I need to send a letter home but I need to fetch some parchment. It won't take long. I-"
He stopped dead as a clearly human yell rang through the air, followed by a loud thud. The two elves met eyes for a moment before rushing down the hallway to the room where the sound had originated. Neither could stop panic from entering their hearts as they ran into the room, one right after the other, hoping to find things peaceful
It was far from peaceful.
~*~
The man had yelled loudly and rolled out of the way when he had climbed onto the bed. Even ill, he was an admirable opponent but Sméagol knew he could overwhelm him. Holding the knife in one of his long hands, he leapt off the bed after the man, preparing to strike once more. His dagger hit tiled floor and vibrated painfully in his hand. Growling in frustration, he advanced upon the helpless human who was trying to flatten himself against the wall.
A hiss of sorts escaped him as he raised the dagger to strike, knowing this time there was nowhere for the man to hide. He was going to do it! He was going to rid himself of the evil, awful man. This would make him feel better. But if this was truly what he wanted, why did it just seem to be so wrong? He felt himself hesitating and shook his head as though trying to clear it. It was the man's fault that he was in this situation! Why was he not striking him dead?
His moment of internal struggle proved to be the man's saving grace.
Something sliced his fingers and he let out a wail, dropping his weapon immediately. Another slice bit at his shoulder, and though the cut was shallow like the first, it hurt. He cowered away, trying to avoid the cutting blade. His dodges were not completely in vain, and only one more blow hit him. He tried to look pathetic as someone towered over him, looking more than disgusted. Gollum, with all his opposing and strange emotions, was not even sure if he could categorize the expression on the person's face.
Legolas looked down at the creature, his eyes ablaze. The creature that had once been a curiosity to him now seemed to be the foulest and most damned thing that roamed the earth. The prince was suddenly very glad that he had not had time to change his clothing or even take off his weapons. Had he not had his daggers on him, Estel probably would be dead at the hands of this monster.
The prince levelled his weapon, so the point was pressed into the skin of Sméagol's chest. The corrupted one whimpered and tried to get away but he was in a corner and unable to escape the cruel steal. The blade was a simple warning: move and die. Legolas turned towards Elrond, who was kneeling next to Estel, trying to calm the man.
Elrond gently stroked his foster son's face, whispering meaningless words of nonsense to the distraught and ill man. If Estel heard him, he gave very little sign that he did. He cowered from his father's touch, and his fingers clutched at the floor beneath him. Glazed and uncomprehending eyes stared straight ahead and the man was breathing rapidly.
"Easy Estel," Elrond murmured. "Easy my little one, I am here......" His fingers brushed some wayward hair from the man's face and he said again. "I am here."
The pale, sweat dotted countenance turned towards the elf and his eyes locked with the deep silver ones. Elrond swallowed hard, seeing beneath the delirium, the internal pain the man suffered from. As gently as he could, the elf lord wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him close, allowing him to rest against the elf's chest. His throat seemed to close and he had a hard time saying the words that he needed to speak.
"I love you Estel," was the choked whisper. "I love you as much as I love Elladan and Elrohir and Arwen. I am so sorry I hurt you. Please don't leave me. Don't leave Arwen." His voice grew so soft that even an elf would have trouble hearing him. "Even if in the future, I deny the fact that you and she should be together, I will be wrong. Do not listen to me. In the end, the two of you will be together for the Valar have long since destined you for it."
The tense and wary body relaxed in his arms and a faint, disease stricken voice replied, "I know you love me, Ada. I love you too."
~*~
TBC.....
~*~
And to all those who didn't think it would get done, HAHA! :P Hope you enjoyed it! Love you all a lot! The last chapter/epilogue will be up within a week hopefully but in no more than two. ^_^
By tHe InSaNe OnE
AN- ^_^ It's up....really, this is a chapter and as for the epilogue, well, I'm hoping within the week. *crosses fingers* It all depends on school workload.
I am not going to make excuses because there are none worth telling. I just want to apologize for making all sixty plus of you wait. It really makes me feel guilty. You all are great reviewers, especially those of you who nagged me to death about getting it up. Well you have what you want! ^_^ I hope you like it.
There are no review responses at the bottom of this chapter *dodges reviewers* Yes, I've read every single one of your wonderful reviews and enjoyed them immensely, however, I don't think you remember what you said five months ago. Therefore, I will thank you *bows* and respond *g* to all your reviews for this chapter. I promise....
*sobs* Please forgive me.
This is especially dedicated to Helen T who would not leave me alone and generally bugged me everyday. Thanks for your prodding, poking, whining, smacking, eye rolls, yelling and well, just everything. This wouldn't be up without you.
^_^ Many thanks to my beta Arien..... who is betaing this chapter as we speak but ^_^ I'm posting. I want this up now....
So read and enjoy folks.....one last chapter/epilogue (I'm not sure which yet).
~*~
They had dragged him.
The man had been so ill that one of the elves had put him on a horse, and left with him straight off. That meant Sméagol had been left with the other two elves. He had cowered, and whimpered, and had acted over all pathetic as they tried to decide how to transport him to the palace; however, none of the acting had worked. They did not let him up on one of their horses.
They had dragged him behind the horses.
He hated elves. Elves were creatures he had always disliked but the dislike was growing to full blown hatred. They not only dragged him behind a horse, but also had wrapped another rope around his neck. The rope had burned, and his feet and hands had been cut from running too fast; and eventually, he acquired cuts from being dragged after he could no longer run.
He hated elves.
When they had finally reached the palace, the elves had stopped their horses and started conversing about what they should do with him. They did not want to leave him on his own for they did not trust him, but they also did not want to be near him. They decided to take him to the sword training area, and tie him to a post. Then, they sat down as far away as they could, and waited.
From the bit of conversation Sméagol had picked up, he apparently smelled bad.
That wasn't his fault, now was it?
So, Sméagol sat, tugging at the rope and staring at the elves. He could not tell if the elves realized he was watching them or not, but he decided if they did know, they would be more on guard. They were always so tense when he watched them.
"Ssstupid, elvesssess," Sméagol moaned, pulling at the rope. "Evil, nasssty elvessess."
"Sssmeagol?"
Sméagol twitched slightly as the voice started to speak to him again. As much as he hated the elves, he truly did not want to speak to the voice. The voice would do something bad, something terribly awful. Then the elves would be very angry and they would hurt him.
"Leave me alone," Sméagol sniffed, giving up on the rope for the moment.
"What isss wrong with Sssmeagol?" the voice cooed, petting his head.
Sméagol wanted to resist but the voice was being kind. He was desperate for kindness at the moment. More than anything else, he wanted some sort of comfort or advice. He wanted someone to sympathize with him, to hate the elves with him and to despise the man for leaving him. But wait, who was thinking these thoughts? Was it him? No, those thoughts sounded too much like something the voice would ponder.
"Elveses," Sméagol whimpered, giving in to the voice.
"There, there, precioousss," the voice soothed, stroking his head and face. Patting him on the face, it continued. "Weess will essscape and wees will ssshow them."
"They dragged us," Sméagol said, fiddling once more with the rope.
"We knows precciouuss," the voice whispered. "We iss ssssoorrry."
"They did not feed us," Sméagol whined, his stomach growling to prove his point.
"Wees will escape, Ssmeagol, we willsss," the voice comforted one last time, in its own evil way. Then it left once more, for the elves were approaching.
Bellmaethor looked at Sméagol with vague curiosity, carefully keeping a good five feet between himself and the creature. If it was possible, the beast look more pitiful than it did when they had first discovered it. It was cut, though most of the scrapes were minor and already scabbed over. Large golden eyes were filled with tears and self pity; but there was something else there too that made the elf a bit uncomfortable.
"What should we do with it?" Saelmin questioned, as he too stared at Sméagol. Prince Legolas had given the both of them firm orders to watch the 'thing' and make sure it didn't escape.
"I don't know," Bellmaethor answered, sitting back on his heals. A frown graced his fair face. "He sure looks awful, doesn't he?"
Saelmin worried at his chin. "Aye, he could stand a good meal or two." He met Bellmaethor's eyes and his entire attitude towards the situation changed nearly immediately. "Oh no- no! We are not going to keep it! Don't you dare become attached to it!"
"But Saelmin, mellon nin!" Bellmaethor exclaimed. "Look at it; it needs love and care. Please!"
Sméagol watched the one elf with the dark hair plead with his companion. This could be used to his advantage. The sympathy; the compassion. It almost appeared as though the elf pitied him. Grinning to himself, he put on his most sorrowful, underfed, unloved face.
"I am hungry," he sniffed, giving the dark haired elf large, innocent eyes.
Bellmaethor looked at him kindly. Though he had not been sure of the creature at first, he was sure with a bit of love and care, the beast would not be half as bad as he seemed. When he was a child, he had the tendency to pick up animals; wargs, spiders, squirrels, and anything else he came across that needed help. He, Saelmin and the prince had caused a lot of trouble bringing such creatures around and in the palace. Bellmaethor could not help but wince as he remembered what had happened when they had brought the warg puppy back.
"Well," Bellmaethor said, standing up and edging around Gollum. His pity for the beast only reached so far, and he wasn't sure he would allow it very close to him yet. "We'll feed you then."
Saelmin immediately started to protest. "But, mellon nin-"
"Oh come now, Saelmin!" Bellmaethor said with a grin, untying the rope from the post and wrapping it around his hand. "We can just take him down to the stream just outside the palace walls, and then, we can feed him something. It will not hurt a thing."
Saelmin's expression clearly stated 'why did the Valar do this to me' but letting out a sigh, he silently agreed. There was no way he could argue his way out of this. When Bellmaethor decided he was going to help an animal or some sort of creature, there was no stopping him. 'Perhaps that is why he has such trouble fighting orcs' Saelmin thought, as he followed Bellmaethor and the beast, one hand on his sword. 'His heart is too soft.'
Having a soft heart could prove fatal.
Bellmaethor did not even realize that his friend was on guard as he gently led the strange creature out to the stream. He had never seen anything quite like it. Its thin, scraggly appearance seemed to be like a human's or an elf's though it was smaller. Everything else about it though, seemed rather unnatural. From its skin tone, to its large golden eyes, everything seemed a bit morphed. 'I wonder what it is' the elf thought, scanning the creature. 'Or maybe, what it was....'
The stream was quick moving and the water was cool and clear. It was nicely refreshing, and Bellmaethor knew it would be perfect for this strange animal to clean itself off in and for it to get a drink from. Then they could feed it, tie it back up and go inside. After all, the sun was starting to set and it was getting late.
"Here you go," the dark haired elf said to Sméagol, giving the creature enough leeway to go into the stream.
Sméagol looked at the elf with clear distrust. Was this some sort of trick? Was the water filled with elf magic? Well, he would take his chances. This particular elf seemed too kind to actually want to harm him. Tentatively, Sméagol put a hand into the water. Nothing happened; he was not eaten or possessed by anything. Deserting caution completely, Sméagol splashed into the water. The stream soothed the cuts on his skin, and the mild sunburn he had from travelling during the day. Letting out a sigh, he flattened himself onto the bottom of the stream so only his eyes and nose were above the water.
Saelmin came up next to Bellmaethor, his lips pursed. Every time he glanced at the creature that Bellmaethor was becoming fond of, he saw the evil glint in those eyes. Something about this beast was simply not right. From the very way it looked, down to the soul Saelmin could see through those large golden orbs, there was corruption. This creature was not the way it had been when it was born. Something had changed it.
"Saelmin, do you have some lembas?" Bellmaethor's question snapped the blonde warrior out of his thoughts.
"Aye, a bit," Saelmin said, reaching down into one of his pockets and pulling out a half eaten wafer.
Bellmaethor took it from him, smiling to himself as he watched the creature in the water. Now, a bit of food for it and then back to the post; he and Saelmin could have someone else watch it while they cleaned up and rested a bit. Tugging a bit on the rope to get Smeagol's attention, he held out the waver of bread.
"Are you still hungry?" the elf called to the beast. Sméagol's head jerked up and he looked at the elf curiously. Crawling slowly towards him, he sniffed the bread in the elf's hand.
"Nasssty elf bread," he whined, backing away. "We do not likesss the nasssty elf bread."
Bellmaethor continued holding out the bread anyway. "Come now," he coaxed. "Tis not that bad, little one. It will fill you right up."
Sméagol only moved further away from Bellmaethor. He could escape now, while the elf was off guard. The voice was speaking to him, gently prodding him on in his head. He could get away, and then, he could have his revenge. He could get back at the man for leaving him here in this mess. Yes, the voice was right. The man didn't really care. He should have taken care of the man when he had the chance. Now, he was stuck here with these elves. Wait, this sounded too much like the voice, not him. Was he the voice?
His ponderings were stopped nearly immediately as the dark hair elf stepped into the stream. The elf came scarily close and Sméagol instinctively backed away. The fair being's nose wrinkled and he stepped back looking slightly displeased.
"Saelmin," Bellmaethor said, turning to his friend. Saelmin went on guard as soon as he saw his friend's imploring gaze.
"What is it?" the elf asked, his hand still clutching the hilt of his sword.
"Do you think you could fetch some soap and maybe, I don't know, some fruit and cheese and a bit of mea-"
"No!" Saelmin nearly shouted, cutting his friend off. "No! No! No! We are not going to bathe this thing! I allowed you to bring it down here so it could get a drink and clean itself. I let you offer it food as well! If it was hungry enough it would eat the lembas! I am not going to fetch food for it like some sort of servant! It's clean enough! Let's take it back, tie it up, find someone to watch it and REST!"
Bellmaethor had practiced the art of giving large, green puppy dog eyes for many, many years. Putting the technique to use, he stared at Saelmin imploringly, begging his friend to understand. When Saelmin's face remained the same, the elf sighed and hung his head.
"Okay then.....I will go get something for it," Bellmaethor sniffed, brushing a loose strand of his brown hair from his face. Shoving the guide rope into Saelmin's hands, he shook the water off his boots. "But that means you shall wait here with it."
Saelmin's silver eyes were glowing dangerously. Resisting the urge to smash his head into the nearest tree, he drew his sword and held it tightly in his hand, clinging to the rope in his other. "Did anything I just said get through to you?"
Bellmaethor smiled innocently, starting back towards the castle. "I'll be back in five minutes. Just stand with him. He'll be just fine relaxing where he is." Pausing for a moment, he finished up by saying firmly, "And don't threaten him or scare him. If you bait him, he might attack." With that, he slipped back into the walls surrounding the castle courtyard.
"Bait him......me? I do not need to bait him....." Saelmin mumbled, yanking on the elven cord, to make sure it was secure. The back of his mind told him that the creature was not going anywhere, and he shifted uneasily as the large golden eyes focused on him. A dark intention was clear there, and a shiver went down his spine.
From his place in the river, the voice smirked. Sméagol was fully his now, his moral sense no longer resisting against the voice's dark ambitions. Crawling slowly towards the bank, the morphed hobbit waited for a second, keeping its large orb eyes focused on the blond elf. Then, with very little warning, it struck.
~*~
The storm had settled upon Mirkwood with a vengeance. Torrents of rain soaked the ground, covering the grass with small rivers and making the brook overflow. The wind blew fiercely, snapping small saplings, dragging branches off of trees. Lightning lit up even the darkest areas of the forest and thunder roared so loudly that the entire palace seemed to shake. Not one person was outside any longer.
When the creature had escaped, there had been mayhem. Everyone searched for it, looking nearly everywhere but Sméagol was good at hiding. That and he was good at hunting. They were two talents that he was rather proud of and now was putting to use. Hiding in the bowels of a hollow tree, he awaited until the storm was at its worst before emerging.
The blond elf had not been easily taken down. A stinging cut across Sméagol's face attested to that. He scowled darkly as he recalled wrestling the blade from the elf's hand and then knocking it unconscious. Though it had been tempting to kill it, he had not had the time and had fled the scene; not with out a trinket though. In his teeth, he now held a dagger that he had stolen off of the unconscious elf's body. It was going to be put to good use.
Slinking through the tree branches, he nimbly avoided debris that was being blown around by the wind. He knew that the man was in one of the many rooms that he could see, and he was determined to find that room. The bit of him that liked the man had been thoroughly destroyed, leaving only a deep bitterness. The man had brought him here, and left him with the awful, nasty elves. The man had never really cared about him.
Letting the angry feelings fuel him, Sméagol continued prowling the trees, searching for the proper room. The night was growing older and there were very few windows still lit up. Something inside of him told him that the man would be in a room with a lit window, so he skipped the darkened ones. He could not linger, for once the storm was gone so was his cover. He would have to make his revenge swift.
The first lighted window proved to not be the man's and the second was not either. Sméagol felt frustration joining the swirling emotions within him. The rain was biting at him and every once in a while, a sharp twig would slap him. He was cold, hungry and hurting, and along with the irritation in not being able to find the man, he was starting to become overwhelmed.
The third window glowed brightly and hopefully for the lanky creature, and it pressed its face against the glass pane. Though the rain smudged the window, his large eyes could make out what was in there. An elf with dark hair was sitting on the bed, resting against the back board. In his arms, he held the man. Sméagol noted that the elf's face was stained with tears and he looked terribly distraught about something. The man in his arms seemed very unaware of it all, his face pale and still.
Sméagol squatted low on the windowsill pondering his options. He wasn't sure if he could take both the elf and the man at the same time. Even with the man weakened by illness, he could still easily overpower the corrupted being. Sighing in a disgruntled fashion, the creature waited to see if the elf would leave. The knife in his mouth glistened slightly, reflecting the brightly burning fire within. Oh what he would do to be in front of that fire and warming himself.
Time seemed to pass very slowly for Sméagol. Very little seemed to change in the room, and the elf only moved to tenderly stroke the man's face, or to wipe the man's forehead with a cloth. Sméagol was beginning to despair when finally, something happened. The elf gently removed the man from his lap and settled him back on the bed, wrapping several blankets around him. Kissing the man's forehead, the elf silently departed the room.
Sméagol couldn't believe his luck but spent no time pondering it. He slowly worked the window and managed to open it. He sneaked into the room soundlessly, eyeing everything around him with utter suspicion. Anything in an elven home could attack and be an enemy. He had to be on his guard. Making his way towards the bed, he prepared to strike the unaware person who rested in it.
~*~
Legolas rubbed his eyes wearily, not being able to remember the last time he had had such a trying day. Between finding Estel half alive and the escape of the creature, he was incredibly over stimulated. A pounding headache was eating away at him and exhaustion was making him feel heavy. The healers in the other room had just reassured him that Saelmin, despite his numerous injuries, would be just fine. In fact, the blond elf had been yelling at Bellmaethor when the prince had departed. He couldn't help but take that as a good sign.
Now he wanted to go to bed. He wanted to flop down onto his soft, feather mattress and sleep until the world ended. However, his mind and heart would not let him yet. He could not rest peacefully until he knew more of Aragorn's condition. When he had left, the fever had been raging and the man had been simply deteriorating. If that was still the case, then the prince knew, even as tired as he was, that he would find no sleep.
A sigh escaped him as he trudged down the hall towards the room where he had left Estel and Lord Elrond. Though he knew that the elf lord and the man had fought in the past, he could see that Elrond was terribly concerned for his son. Any feeling of anger towards the elf lord had long since melted away. After all, such emotions were no help in such a dire situation. Right now all that mattered was Estel's getting better.
He was nearly to the room when he saw Elrond coming towards him. The elf lord was a mess. His long, ebony hair was a tangled knot upon his head and his eyes were glazed with fear and exhaustion. His face was stained with what appeared to be tears, which made Legolas' heart twist. Was Estel gone already? Was the elf lord coming to inform him of the man's demise? The rumpled appearance of the elf was enough to confirm it.
"My lord," the blond greeted cautiously as the half elf stopped before him.
"Prince Legolas," Elrond replied formally, his voice rather hoarse. "I thought you would be asleep by now...."
Legolas grimaced, once again the image of a warm bed with a cosy fire flashed through his mind. He pushed it away though. "I would be, my lord, but unfortunately since your son's arrival, the entire house has been in an uproar." His lips twitched into a smile. "Estel has a way of causing such things."
Elrond's face lightened slightly. "Aye, he does. Is there anything I can help with?"
"No," Legolas said, with a shake of his head. "All you need to do is make Estel better. My father and I will worry about the recapture of the creature Estel brought."
Elrond stared at Legolas for a moment. The creature had escaped? No! Not after Estel had driven himself to the point of death to bring it here! How could Legolas' guard been so irresponsible. Elrond swallowed his anger and muttered rather dully, "It has escaped?"
Legolas nodded, seeing the upset look in the others eyes. "He attacked the guard that was watching him, and knocked him unconscious. He can't have gotten far in this storm, and as soon as it quiets, be assured that our best hunting parties will be searching for him. Estel's sacrifice will not be in vain." He paused, and his voice choked as he asked the question on his mind. "How does he fare?"
Elrond ran a hand over his face and lowered his head for a moment. A heavy sigh escaped him. "He sleeps."
Legolas' heart jumped to his throat, knowing that such a phrase could have more than one meaning. Fighting back the tears that were coming to his eyes, he opened his mouth to ask a question but Elrond continued.
"The fever is lower but even so, it drains him of the little strength he has," the elf lord whispered. "If he is to recover, it will need to break soon or the dehydration will-" He did not continue, unable to utter the words.
Legolas felt a wave of intense relief. Estel was still alive and doing a bit better. It wasn't much, and there was still bad news but the fear that had been eating at the elf prince diminished slightly. Running a hand over his head, he tried to push out some of the knots. Things were going to get better. After all, once he hit rock bottom the only way to go was up, right?
"Well, it is good to hear his fever is down some," the prince whispered. "May I go see him before I go to bed?"
Elrond nodded, "Aye, I'll be back in a moment." He rubbed his head, showing he was obviously suffering from a headache. "I need to send a letter home but I need to fetch some parchment. It won't take long. I-"
He stopped dead as a clearly human yell rang through the air, followed by a loud thud. The two elves met eyes for a moment before rushing down the hallway to the room where the sound had originated. Neither could stop panic from entering their hearts as they ran into the room, one right after the other, hoping to find things peaceful
It was far from peaceful.
~*~
The man had yelled loudly and rolled out of the way when he had climbed onto the bed. Even ill, he was an admirable opponent but Sméagol knew he could overwhelm him. Holding the knife in one of his long hands, he leapt off the bed after the man, preparing to strike once more. His dagger hit tiled floor and vibrated painfully in his hand. Growling in frustration, he advanced upon the helpless human who was trying to flatten himself against the wall.
A hiss of sorts escaped him as he raised the dagger to strike, knowing this time there was nowhere for the man to hide. He was going to do it! He was going to rid himself of the evil, awful man. This would make him feel better. But if this was truly what he wanted, why did it just seem to be so wrong? He felt himself hesitating and shook his head as though trying to clear it. It was the man's fault that he was in this situation! Why was he not striking him dead?
His moment of internal struggle proved to be the man's saving grace.
Something sliced his fingers and he let out a wail, dropping his weapon immediately. Another slice bit at his shoulder, and though the cut was shallow like the first, it hurt. He cowered away, trying to avoid the cutting blade. His dodges were not completely in vain, and only one more blow hit him. He tried to look pathetic as someone towered over him, looking more than disgusted. Gollum, with all his opposing and strange emotions, was not even sure if he could categorize the expression on the person's face.
Legolas looked down at the creature, his eyes ablaze. The creature that had once been a curiosity to him now seemed to be the foulest and most damned thing that roamed the earth. The prince was suddenly very glad that he had not had time to change his clothing or even take off his weapons. Had he not had his daggers on him, Estel probably would be dead at the hands of this monster.
The prince levelled his weapon, so the point was pressed into the skin of Sméagol's chest. The corrupted one whimpered and tried to get away but he was in a corner and unable to escape the cruel steal. The blade was a simple warning: move and die. Legolas turned towards Elrond, who was kneeling next to Estel, trying to calm the man.
Elrond gently stroked his foster son's face, whispering meaningless words of nonsense to the distraught and ill man. If Estel heard him, he gave very little sign that he did. He cowered from his father's touch, and his fingers clutched at the floor beneath him. Glazed and uncomprehending eyes stared straight ahead and the man was breathing rapidly.
"Easy Estel," Elrond murmured. "Easy my little one, I am here......" His fingers brushed some wayward hair from the man's face and he said again. "I am here."
The pale, sweat dotted countenance turned towards the elf and his eyes locked with the deep silver ones. Elrond swallowed hard, seeing beneath the delirium, the internal pain the man suffered from. As gently as he could, the elf lord wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him close, allowing him to rest against the elf's chest. His throat seemed to close and he had a hard time saying the words that he needed to speak.
"I love you Estel," was the choked whisper. "I love you as much as I love Elladan and Elrohir and Arwen. I am so sorry I hurt you. Please don't leave me. Don't leave Arwen." His voice grew so soft that even an elf would have trouble hearing him. "Even if in the future, I deny the fact that you and she should be together, I will be wrong. Do not listen to me. In the end, the two of you will be together for the Valar have long since destined you for it."
The tense and wary body relaxed in his arms and a faint, disease stricken voice replied, "I know you love me, Ada. I love you too."
~*~
TBC.....
~*~
And to all those who didn't think it would get done, HAHA! :P Hope you enjoyed it! Love you all a lot! The last chapter/epilogue will be up within a week hopefully but in no more than two. ^_^