Chapter Thirty-Nine: Fallen
Legolas choked, only his iron will keeping him from panicking as Glamour mercilessly strangled him. Struggling to remember that this foe was an elf— supposedly an ally— the assassin barely kept himself from unsheathing one of his hidden daggers and stabbing the other in the chest. Instead a small blade sank into Glamour's left wrist. The warrior screamed in pain, releasing his choke-hold on the assassin.
The violet-eyed elf pulled air into his lungs, throat aching but he ignored his discomfort and lashed out, kicking the other solidly in the stomach and sending him hurtling back. Glamour recovered his footing in time to dodge Legolas's next strike, but the assassin grabbed his arm and used his momentum against him, throwing the warrior to the ground.
Not an enemy. Do not kill. Not an enemy. His mind chanted, because he could execute the other so easily...
For the first time, Legolas truly understood how sparing a foe was harder than killing one. But Glamour was not an enemy. He was not...
The warrior lunged once more, the assassin tensing as he waited for the other to come... and Glamour was jerked back, feet lifting off of the ground as a long, wiry limb wrapped around him. The Mirkwood elf screamed, terror breaking through whatever madness had claimed him, as around them the shadowed trees roared, snarling and hissing with absolute fury.
You hurt Daelas! They screamed in rage. You hurt our Shadow Leaf! Kill kill kill kill!
Wooden limbs tightened, writhing and coiling around Glamour like snakes, and Legolas watched, frozen, as another limb rose as if ready to stab.
This elf is not an enemy, his mind reminded him.
"Don't!" the violet-eyed elf cried aloud, desperate. "Do not hurt him!"
The shadowed trees paused, hesitating, though they continued to snarl and scream. He hurt Daelas. He hurt Daelas. He hurt Daelas!
I am all right, Legolas told them. Let him go. He is not a threat.
The assassin was unsure of how well he would be able to convince the trees that Glamour was an ally when he himself did not believe that to be true. Regardless of whatever had been going through the warrior's mind or whatever emotions may have been clouding his judgment, the elf had attacked and tried to kill two of his comrades. That did not bode well.
He tried to stab Daelas! The trees shrieked. He tried to choke Daelas! Kill the backstabbing-evil-bad-not-Shadowed-evil elf!
The tree's limbs constricted threateningly around Glamour, and the elf went limp. His body relaxed and his head lolled, an oddly peaceful expression falling over his face as he fled consciousness. The assassin struggled with himself, uncertainty pricking at his mind. The warrior had attempted to murder a fellow warrior— and guest— then proceeded to attack the violet-eyed elf with little provocation. That was a behavior only Shadowed Elves showed, yet Glamour's eyes had been as bright and colorful as any elf's. So why had he attacked? What madness had claimed him?
No. Legolas said as firmly as he could. Do not kill him. Release him.
Why? The shadowed trees spat. Why should we let the evil-not-shadowed elf live?
He is ill. The assassin told them, mind whirling as he tried to rationalize his argument to the trees. The Elvenking will want him alive to discover why he has become evil.
'Why'? It does not matter 'why'! The trees snarled. He deserves punishment. He deserves death!
"And he will be punished." a new voice said.
Legolas turned, twitching slightly as Aglar stepped up beside him. He had not even sensed his brother's approach. The Crown Prince glanced at the assassin, eyes scanning him for injuries. His forehead creased when he noticed the blood on the violet-eyed elf's tunic but he delayed what concern he felt, speaking again to the angry trees.
"I heard what was happening through your Light kin. Glamour is a good warrior, and a trusted friend. He would not attack a comrade and Esgal without something external influencing him. The Elvenking will need him alive to try to discern what made him so erratically violent. For all we know, more elves could be suffering from this madness."
The trees branches curled in a way similar to a clenching fist. There may be other bad-not-Shadowed elves? They asked.
"Yes. There might be." Aglar said. "That is why we need Glamour alive, so we to figure out the signs and symptoms of this illness. That way we can identify other... bad-not-Shadowed elves and stop them before they can harm their comrades, the Liberators, and Es—... Daelas."
The mention of their Shadow Leaf was enough of an argument for the trees. Branches loosened and Glamour was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. The unconscious warrior made a soft thud as he hit the earth, but Legolas felt little sympathy for him. The assassin moved to the elf's intended victim's side, noting that the Galadrim's eyes were half-open and that he was breathing harshly. However, he looked more shocked than injured.
The violet-eyed elf felt a flicker of irritation before forcing it away. Not everyone could brush off being nearly strangled in order to leap up and fight. Still, it would have been helpful of the conscious elf to at least try to assist Legolas when Glamour was attacking him.
"Can you stand?" he asked the Galadrim.
The other nodded and got off the ground, rubbing his throat as he walked past the assassin. Legolas looked skyward and sighed softly before turning to Aglar, who was hoisting Glamour onto his shoulder. The feat looked more impressive than it was. Elves were naturally stronger than men, but actually weighed less than they looked. The Crown Prince's eyes followed the Lothlorien warrior before catching the assassin's gaze. He shrugged, adjusting his hold on the unconscious Glamour.
"I'm sure Calaer is very grateful to you for saving him." he said with a hint of dry humor in his voice. "Let's make sure he doesn't collapse on the way to the Palace, yes?"
Legolas walked beside his brother at a quick but steady pace, keeping Calaer's back in sight as the Lothlorien elf determinedly made his way back to the Elvenking's stronghold. The danger having passed, the assassin became acutely aware of pain where Glamour's dagger had cut him, along with a low ache around his throat. The pain was nothing more than a slight stinging along his ribs and a little pain at his neck, but it was enough to cause discomfort when moving.
He grimaced, unwilling to reach up and touch either spot and draw attention to his miniscule injuries. They were not that far from the Elvenking's stronghold, and he could check his wounds there. However, it seemed that Aglar had his own sixth sense having to do with such things. The moment Legolas's hand twitched towards his chest the Crown Prince looked at him, eyes narrowing.
"Are you injured?"
The question was more of a demand. Before Legolas could respond the Prince had stopped, set Glamour on the ground, and had suddenly turned into a silver-haired warrior version of Lord Elrond. It took him less than an eye-blink to discover the slice along the assassin's ribs, though the violet-eyed elf tried to casually hide the cut in his tunic with his arm.
"Why did you not mention that you were stabbed?" the Crown Prince half-shouted, drawing the aloof Calaer's attention and making him wander back towards the Mirkwood elves.
Aglar practically shoved Legolas down into a sitting position, ignoring his protests.
"I was not stabbed. The knife just nicked the skin—"
"'Nicked'?" the blue-eyed elf spluttered incredulously. "Esgal, you have a five inch long gash on your chest!"
"It is not a gash. It is... more of a thin cut. It's not even bleeding that much, see?"
Legolas showed his brother the cut— truly it was not bad, at all— and thought he heard Calaer snigger, most likely amused that the two elves were arguing like elflings.
The Crown Prince grabbed something white from his sleeve and held it to the small laceration. "It is still bleeding. You were still injured. You need to tell me when you're hurt like this."
The assassin grudgingly let the silver-haired elf fuss over the cut. "The knife just sliced me because I did not move quickly enough," he said, irritated. "You're acting like I am missing an arm!"
"I don't care! The point is that you were injured yet you decided to not tell me and instead walked around like nothing had happened!" Aglar snapped, voice taut.
Legolas glared at him and turned away petulantly. "I am fine and I can take care of myself." he muttered like a mantra. "Stop being a mother hen, Muindor."
The Crown Prince paused and the assassin froze, eyes flicking wide. The violet-eyed elf's mind whirled and he felt a rush of panic. His oldest brother did not know his true identity, Thranduil keeping the news from Aglar for reasons unknown. And although Legolas disagreed with his father's decision to keep his past from him, he had to believe the Elvenking was keeping it a secret from his other children for a good reason.
"I-I meant Gwador." he stuttered, forcing a laugh and feeling slight relief when it sounded genuine. "I apologize. I always do manage to get those words con—"
"You're five hundred."
Calaer's voice made both elves jump. They had forgotten the Lothlorien elf was still there. He was staring at Legolas with a distantly puzzled expression on his face, as if he was trying to recall something that eluded him. The assassin looked back, expression blank. Then Calaer's eyes widened. "Y-You're five hundred."
The Crown Prince was looking at the Galadrim like he had lost his mind. Legolas's reaction was more alarmed than anything. Surely Calaer had not put together what had evaded so many—
"Impossible." the Lothlorien elf whispered, paling rapidly and causing the assassin's stomach to drop. "Y-You can't b-be—"
"What are you rambling on about?" Aglar asked coolly, though with a slight hint of wariness. After Glamour lost his mind, it was no surprise the Crown Prince was on edge. "Did you get knocked on the head? Why does it matter that Esgal is five... hundred... years...?"
The Crown Prince stared at the assassin with wide eyes, face draining of color. Legolas did not know what to do. Should he confirm it? Should he deny it? He wanted nothing more than to smile and maybe hug the silver-haired elf — to say, yes, he was his lost brother— but a sudden shift in Aglar's expression gave him pause. The Crown Prince's jaw clenched and his eyes hardened. Without a word, he turned sharply away, picking up Glamour once more. He took a step and stopped, icy blue eyes settling on Calaer.
"Do not tell anyone." he ordered warningly, voice almost a growl.
Without waiting for a reply he stalked off, not looking at Legolas again. The assassin stared after him in bewilderment, claws sinking into his heart. The look in Aglar's eyes had been easily identifiable. He was angry.
...What did I do wrong? The assassin thought miserably.
Aglar did not speak to Legolas or Calaer for the short remainder of the trip. His entire body radiated such tension and simmering rage that even the trees around them remained silent. The assassin stayed behind the Crown Prince, slightly to the side so that he could glance at him every few seconds. Any confidence the violet-eyed elf had gained for dealing with his family was slowly dwindling as he tried and failed to figure out why his oldest brother was reacting in this way.
The Crown Prince dropped off Glamour with a short explanation and an order for the guards to keep him imprisoned, then allowed the healers to take Calaer to make sure there would be no lasting problems. Still not looking at Legolas, Aglar stormed through the halls like a hurricane, elves and hobbits scrambling to get to a safe distance as he passed.
The assassin followed him silently, giving a few flustered passerby apologetic looks for his brother's behavior. He did not realize where they were going until they were outside Thranduil's office door. Aglar opened it harshly, the wood banging against the wall. Inside, the room's occupants— Thranduil, Radagast, Elrond, Glorfindel, Galadriel, and Gandalf— looked up.
Without a word or warning, the Crown Prince stalked up to the Brown Wizard, his fist meeting the Istar's face. More than one jaw dropped as Radagast staggered back, wincing as he held a bloody nose. Rather than look startled or angry, the Wizard looked grimly resigned.
"Aglar Thranduilion, calm yourself!" Gandalf bellowed.
Aglar ignored the Gray Wizard, eyes only for the Brown Istar. "You knew." His voice shook with suppressed rage as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "You knew."
Radagast held his robe to his nose, waving a hand to stop Elrond as the Elf Lord approached. "You reacted just like your father." he said benignly. "I hope that not all of you feel the need to assault me, otherwise I might—"
The Crown Prince's attention turned to Thranduil as he cut off the Wizard. "You were aware of this as well?!" His face twisted, caught between anger and a deep-set pain. "Who else knew? Who?! Who knew that Esgal is Legolas?!"
A deafening silence fell over the office as multiple heads turned to look at the assassin hovering in the doorway. Gandalf looked stunned, Galadriel looked saddened, Elrond's expression was unreadable, and Erestor looked suspiciously unsurprised. For the second time in less than a day, Legolas wished he could sink into the ground, the familiar urge to flee rising up.
Thranduil rose from his seat, hands raised in a placating fashion. "Aglar—"
"You've both known for months, haven't you? That was why you were so stressed when Legolas was sent on that assassination mission." the silver-haired Prince hissed, voice cracking slightly. "Why did you not tell me, or Barhad, or anyone for that matter?!"
"Aglar—" The Elvenking tried to speak.
"Megilag, Bereneth, and Fael are out searching for Legolas but he's right here! Their quest is useless!"
"Did you think that I would not believe an assassin was my little brother? Did you think I could not handle it? You have no right to keep this from me! And why did you even let Legolas be sent on that mission to Isengard? Would you rather send him to his death than reveal his identity—?!"
"Please calm yourself, Prince Aglar."
The soft voice of Galadriel easily silenced the Prince's shouts like rain smothering fire. Aglar glanced at the Lady of the Light, seemed to think about what he was doing, and deflated slightly.
"...I apologize." he said curtly. "Did I interrupt a meeting?"
"Yes." Gandalf said bluntly. "Though I have to admit this is a far more intriguing topic than what we were discussing." Piercing eyes settled on Legolas, who stilled. The Gray Wizard's eyes softened slightly and when he spoke his voice was prodding yet calm. "I think it may be wise for all of us to sit and get the full story from each other, rather than shout and make accusations."
Aglar colored slightly before he sat stiffly in one of the few chairs. Legolas stayed where he was until Glorfindel beckoned to him.
"Don't hover in the doorway. We are talking about you after all, and to not include you would be rude."
He gave the Crown Prince a pointed look and Aglar grimaced. "I am sorry." he said softly, finally looking at his brother. "I was just... overwhelmed." He studied the assassin's face and winced, squeezing his eyes shut. "Ai Valar... it must have seemed like I was angry at you. For all I knew, you could have been completely unaware of who you are! I am such a fool..."
Legolas hesitated, then sat beside his older brother, poking him playfully. "Do not worry about it, Muindor. I have always known you were an idiot."
He managed to get a half-smile from his brother but it vanished quickly. Aglar looked up at Thranduil, eyes sliding to Radagast before returning to their father. "Explain. Please."
The Elvenking sighed, and quietly did. None interrupted him, though Aglar looked as if he wanted to once or twice. He kept his silence though, taking in every word with a strained expression. When Thranduil finished, an uneasy silence returned to the room. It was broken by none other than Galadriel.
" I believe any questions we may have can be asked at a later time." the elven Lady said calmly. She stood, the other non-Royals rising as well. Galadriel's bright eyes settled on the three family members and she gave them a look. "You have much to discuss, so we will take our leave. Do not worry, Legolas. We will tell no one without your permission, for it is your secret to tell."
She left without another word, the others following swiftly and leaving the three Royals alone. Aglar's head was in his hands, Thranduil was looking at his eldest son, and Legolas was at a loss as to what to say.
Time passed and the silence grew heavier, no one making the first move.
"...What is Hannel's favorite color?"
The words escaped Legolas's mouth without his knowledge or permission, resulting in startled looks appearing on three faces, including his own. Aglar gave an odd laugh, looking at his brother with puzzled eyes.
"What is her favorite color?" the assassin asked again, face heating up. "When I found out who I am, I realized that I did not know any of you as well as I would like, and I just wanted to know a few small things since..." He trailed off, scowling as a smile appeared on the Crown Prince's face. "Stop laughing."
"I'm not laughing." Aglar said, the slight giggle accompanying his words revealing their falsity. "It's just... out of all things... her favorite color?"
"I am trying to know little things about all of you because I cannot remember you." Legolas muttered, slightly snappish.
His words made the grin fade from the Crown Prince's face, donning a more serious expression. "Her favorite color is bright orange." he said softly. "A... fire-like orange. She even had a gown made in that color once, long before you were born."
"...If I recall correctly," Thranduil joined the conversation with the same hesitance as his children. "Fael destroyed that dress. The orange was rather... obnoxiously bright, though none of us were willing to tell your sister that. Even your mother had trouble keeping a straight face when Hannel wore it."
"What did Fael do with it?" Legolas asked, curious.
Aglar chuckled, posture relaxing as he recalled that day. "He used it in one of his pranks on Megilag. He used ropes and pulleys to rig our brother's closet so when he opened the door, the dress would fly out at him. Simple but effective. Megilag thought the dress was possessed by a ghost. He screamed like a young maiden and attacked the 'ghost' with his sword."
Legolas smiled, trying to picture the expression on Megilag's face during the instance.
"All of the guards and myself came running." Thranduil reminisced. "We thought an enemy had come into the castle. Imagine our surprise when instead of my son fighting a foe, we found him on the floor tangled in the remains of an orange gown. He was quite embarrassed about it, and it took years for his fellow warriors to stop telling the tale of how their brave Prince lost a battle against a piece of clothing. Hannel was furious, and never realized that it was Fael who took the gown. She still thinks that Megilag was trying to give it to a maiden as a gift. The rest of us were just relieved it was gone."
"Was it truly that terrible?" the assassin asked.
"It was bright enough to hurt your eyes if you looked at it for too long." his brother said solemnly. "It could have been used as a weapon to blind the orcs."
"It is a pity Megilag cut it to pieces then." Legolas said in a similar tone.
The room's mood had changed, shifting from tense discomfort to amiable lightheartedness. Legolas found himself reminded of conversations with Bilbo in the Shire, where they would talk about nothing dreary or important. It was even better that he was with his family.
However, all good things must end.
Hours later, Thranduil headed down to the dungeons, still thinking about his lost son. Legolas had seemed lighter and less burdened while talking and joking with his brother, once the initial argument and tension had ceased. Frankly, the Elvenking was surprised Aglar had taken as well as he had. However, his oldest son had tactfully refrained from saying much that he wanted to. The Crown Prince had caught the Sinda's eye as he left the office, and Thranduil had been chilled by the deep fear that he had seen there.
Yes, Aglar had taken the news well, comparably. But the Elvenking knew his son was protective, he always had been, and also knew that every instinct had been screaming to grab Legolas and hide him away, to keep him from harm. How did the father know? Because he himself struggled to remember that his youngest could take care of himself.
However, unlike Aglar, Thranduil had seen Legolas fight, both in a mock battle and during the confrontation with the hunters. The Elvenking knew the assassin was not one to skip out of the forest and fall into an orc trap, but that did not mean he worried for him. Still, the Sinda had to let his youngest keep his freedom. He had to, and more importantly he had to remind himself to. It would be so easy to forget that his Little Greenleaf was no longer so little, and smother him. Legolas could not be kept on a leash.
Thranduil just hoped Aglar realized the same thing soon. And Barhad and Hannel as well. Legolas had been wary about telling his remaining two reachable siblings just yet, but decided that it would be best to tell them soon.
"They deserve to know." His youngest's words echoed in the golden-haired elf's mind. "I may not know them as my siblings, and may not be the brother they lost, but surely they will be happier just knowing I am all right? I know that you kept this from them for a reason, Adar, but I think everything will turn out all right. At worst, they may not believe it, but I will not be hurt by their rejection. How could I be when I myself still have trouble believing?"
Oh, Greenleaf, the Elvenking thought grimly. I do not fear that they will reject you. I fear that they will accept, yet try to forge you into who they think you should be. No, not them. Just Hannel. You do not know your sister, you said so yourself, and I fear her future actions may harm you more than an enemy's blade...
Reluctantly pushing his worries about his family away, the Elvenking stopped outside of a cell deep in his stronghold, peering through the door at the elf inside. Glamour was sitting with his back to the door, curled up in a corner with his head down and his arms wrapped around his knees. The Sinda studied the silent warrior for a moment before turning to one of the guards.
"Has he moved or said anything?"
"No, my King." the guard said. "After he woke he moved to that corner and has done nothing but sit there ever since."
Thranduil stared at the once-proud warrior, watching as his hands twitched sporadically like he was itching to put them around someone's neck. The Sinda grimaced, then spoke to the elf.
There was no reaction from the warrior.
Thranduil sighed. "Glamour this is Elvenking Thr—"
The elf spun, lunging at the door. The Sinda flinched back as Glamour collided with it, blue eyes meeting wild azure ones. The Elvenking and his guards could only watch, speechless, as the warrior sneered at them, hissing.
Unnerved, Thranduil hid his alarm under a calm exterior. "Glamour, you have attacked two fellow elves today. Would you tell me why?"
The warrior simply stared at him with narrowed eyes, head tilted to one side. The golden-haired elf thought he was not going to answer, but then he spoke.
"He made me angry." His voice was calm, almost sane, but before Thranduil could respond the elf continued, tone rapidly changing to one of rage. "Stupid aloof Lothlorien elf! Always sneering, always mocking! He insulted us! I wanted him to suffer. Make him silent, make him pay."
He continued muttering to himself, prowling back and forth across the length of his cell. Thranduil and the two guards observed his movements in silence, but Glamour seemed unwilling to say more. The Elvenking hid his concern behind a neutral expression as he tracked the warrior's movements. Something about the way he had spoken seemed familiar...
"He's mad." the second guard finally spoke up, a hint of alarm in his voice.
"Indeed." Thranduil murmured. "The question is why?"
"I think I can answer that."
Barhad entered the dungeon as quietly as ever, oddly without a single book or scroll on his person. The golden-haired Prince studied the still-mumbling Glamour, expression twisting. "I came as soon as I heard about Glamour. I think I know what is wrong with him. In fact, I was going to tell you earlier, Adar, but I could not find you..."
Because I was off trying to find Legolas, Thranduil realized. "Tell me what you know." he bade his son.
The Prince tucked a loose hair behind his ear, shifting slightly and looking as if he wished he had a book in his hands. "I think this might be better discussed in private, with the other leaders present."
The Elvenking tensed. Was what his son had to say that bad? "All right." he said to Barhad, then turned to the guards. "One of you please gather the Elven Lords and Lady, along with the Wizards, the children of Elrond, my children, and Esgal. Tell them to meet in the unused Council Room, then return and keep watching Glamour, and contact me if he says anything else."
Not much later, the mentioned people all gathered in a sizable room not far from the main hall. Their meeting place was a rarely-used room, where few went or passed by. Hopefully that would keep unwanted ears from hearing what was being discussed within.
After a brief explanation of what occurred with Glamour, Barhad began without prompting. "Before the coming of the Void, I was tasked with observing the behavior and mentality of the unawakened Shadowed Elves, and I noticed a pattern. They believed themselves to be superior to all others, they reacted to small instances with anger, and at times they attacked with little provocation or warning. According to elves from both Rivendell and Lothlorien, many became like savage unthinking beasts after Iãgaw woke them fully, going for throats and attacking like animals. However, others kept their mind, it seemed, while still turning to the Darkness."
"I have come to the conclusion that the Shadowed Elves have two base instincts: to serve and obey the Darkness, and to kill as many as possible. The Darkness within them twists, controls, and devours their minds, leaving little of their previous beliefs and personalities. Some are practically orcs with elven skins, while others can still think as clearly as ever, but are still absolutely loyal to their Lord."
"That being said, I began to notice similar behaviors in certain Mirkwood elves after the Shadowed Elves were awakened. Irrational anger, superiority, attacking comrades without hesitating. At first I thought the behaviors were just because they were upset and scared, but then Amon attacked Esgal."
Many shocked eyes turned to Legolas, who had an expression that revealed nothing on his face. Barhad quickly drew attention back to him.
"From what I could tell, his attack was unprovoked, sadistic, and based on a belief that Esgal wronged him in some way. Discovering this, along with Glamour's actions, has made me realize the truth: The Sanctuary did not keep Iãgaw's Darkness out of Mirkwood elves' hearts. There was Darkness and 'Shadowed' Elves, it was merely hidden, unable to come out because of the Sanctuary's power."
"However, I think that when Iãgaw woke, there was a lull between his awakening and the activation of the Sanctuary's magic. Not enough for him to sense us, but enough time for the Darkness in the hidden Shadowed Elves to strengthen, just for a moment. Because of that, the 'illness' of the Shadowed Elves was present within those elves. But before it could fully take hold, it was forced out by the Chant."
Barhad's intelligent eyes scanned his silent audience, expression grim. "The Darkness was forced out. The behaviors and insanity were not. Darkness and evil was purged from Mirkwood, but an illness of the mind cannot be forced out so easily. These elves are not Shadowed, for they do not serve Iãgaw, but they are dangerous all the same. The mentality of the Shadowed Elves is within them: The anger, the feeling of superiority, and the willingness to fight and hurt anyone who 'wrongs' them. They are not Shadowed... but I think 'Fallen' may be the right term to identify them."
"Indeed." Gandalf said solemnly. "If this war ever ends, and the West again opens itself to the elves, I fear that the Valar will not give refuge to those who would harm their kin so easily."
"But wouldn't Valinor be the one place the Fallen Elves could heal?" Arwen asked.
"Perhaps." Elrond said. "Valinor is said to heal all wounds, even those of the mind. We should try to contain the Fallen Elves rather than kill them. They are lost, not Dark."
"That does not help us now, though." Celeborn pointed out. "The sea-longing has been taken, and may never be returned."
"Even if it does not, the Fallen Elves are here, in Mirkwood. You cannot sense something wrong in the Fallen Elves'... 'auras', can you?" Hannel asked suddenly, looking at Elrohir.
"No." the younger twin said shortly, a frown on his face. "Though I have not been close to a Fallen Elf, and Esgal is better at sensing than me."
"I sensed nothing odd in Amon or Glamour's auras." the assassin told them, body stilling when they all looked at him once more. "If I did not see them attack, I would not have known anything was wrong."
"Glamour's speech had degraded greatly when I just spoke to him," Thranduil said, finally realizing what Glamour's speech and attitude reminded him of. "He was speaking like the shadowed trees."
"Amon showed no such deterioration." Aglar frowned, rising from his seat. "Does anyone know where he is?"
"I haven't seen him since yesterday." Thranduil said. Although the only reason I would want to see him now is so I can show him the sharp end of my sword...
"That is two more good elves who have been lost to us." Arwen murmured. "Their actions are not their fault."
"Their fault or not, they are still dangerous." Aragorn said adamantly. "Based on what Barhad has said, they will try to kill and hurt others."
"Which is why they must be contained." Elrond repeated.
"I think you all are missing the point." Glorfindel spoke up, surveying them all with solemn blue eyes. "We have an unknown number of elves inside the Sanctuary that are as deadly as orcs. If they become angry, they will not care who they hurt or who they kill. And unless we carefully track the behavior of all of the Mirkwood elves in the Sanctuary we have no means to identify them. It is true that Glamour and Amon acted alone, but what if the Fallen Elves with similar ideas of superiority and revenge join forces. We could be facing a war within this realm. Here, in the only place that Iãgaw cannot touch, we could very well be torn apart from within."
Muindor: Brother (blood)
Gwador: Brother (sworn)
For your convenience, here is a list of people who knows Legolas's identity now: Legolas, Thranduil, Aglar, Barhad, Glorfindel, Bilbo, Frodo, Radagast, Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond, Erestor, Calaer, Amon. (I think that's all of them)
A/N: Sorry for the wait. I rewrote this chapter so many times... It just would not come out right! (Eye twitches). Plus I've been doing essays. Lots and lots of projects and essays... (I swear the teachers all conspire to dump a bunch of projects on students all at the same time.)
Parts were a little more humorous and/or fluffy than I intended, and Aglar's acceptance was smoother than I planned. I was originally going to have Aglar get into an argument with Thranduil about letting Legolas out of his sight, but I decided I just wanted a reunion to be (mostly) nice for Legolas for once. No sudden angst, no running, no mess ups. Just nice family bonding. :)
The Fallen Elves are much like Shadowed Elves in terms of... "sentience". Some can be as clear-headed as a normal elf, others can pretty much be feral. Hopefully all of that made sense...
Next chapter is the last one, then its on to The Shadow War.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and for all of the encouragement, nagging, and support!
...I'm not responding again. I'm sorrrrryyyyyyyyyy! :'(
Please review! (Please note that there won't be responses to individual guest reviewers next chapter because I am planning on putting a FAQ section at the bottom instead along with my final A/N).
And now to get back to all of the projects I have to do... Anyone want to write three twelve paged essays?