To Walk in Night (PG-13) by: Nili

[yenneffer.livejournal.com]

Hey there :)
I apologise for delay in delivering the goods- the last week will probably stay in my memory as The Worst Attack of RL in the History of My Short Life.
TWARLHoMSL.
Well, anyway... here we go:

Fandom: Lord of The Rings
Pairing: gen
Length: Long (1 123 KB, which is 662 pages in Word... etc. ;)
Author on LJ: I don't think she has one
Author Website: @ FF.net
Why this must be read:

This is a part of the series (it's the third piece actually) focusing on Legolas and Aragorn's friendship in their merry days before the Quest. This does not however mean that you need to read the previous stories from the series to understand this one- there're some allusions made, aye, but you are perfectly able to deduce and understand their meaning. I, for example, hadn't had even a glimple of one single line from the first and second fic before I stumbled upon To Walk in Night, and it didn't spoil my enjoyment in any way while reading.
Nili managed to do something that less and less (even gifted) authors of fanfiction manage recently: she has a plot. And amazing one at that. I adore the way she combines great humour (I was honestly dying from laughter during the first few pages, she enchanted me so strongly) and angst (also very well done, well managed and well justified ;P ).
Another point why this piece is so exceptional? Good original characters. They are thrilling- and they are very much alive, with personalities, background, ambitions, thoughts of their own, reasoning- they really fit into the canon, actually.
What else do we have?
Hm. "Good" villains? Check. (good, as you're most likely aware, is a matter of perspective)
The last thing I wanted to point out is the way no character is treated in a shallow way. The story's main focus remains Legolas and Aragorn, however we see much of Glorfindel, the twins, and beforementioned OCs (the fact which will not worry you- I am usually very wary of any Original Characters, but I fell in love with Nili's creations instantly.)

Summary: A few days before Aragorn is supposed to leave Mirkwood to travel back to Rivendell with Elladan and Elrohir, a patrol is attacked and Legolas captured. No-one seems to know why or where he and his attackers have disappeared to, and so Aragorn must track those responsible before it is too late to save him. When the young ranger does find his friend and his captors though, both he and the elven prince realise that this time, they may be well in over their heads and that a dark force is stirring in Rhûn that may bring destruction to all of Wilderland.

Excerpt: Why was his liege behaving so peculiarly … cheerfully today?

Galion knew for sure that today was the day Prince Legolas and his friends were leaving for a short hunting trip with some other younger elves and were planning to return tomorrow, something that should have been yet another reason for King Thranduil to be in a bad mood. “Hunting trip” was merely a different and euphemistic term for “disaster” when referring to the fair haired prince’s enterprises, and when said enterprises not only included Prince Legolas, but also Captain Celylith and – Valar forbid – Estel, it was popular belief that it was to be equated with “catastrophe”.

So, the elf pondered, why was Thranduil looking so happy?

The elven king was still projecting an air of happiness and quiet anticipation when Galion returned to his lord’s table to make sure that everything was satisfactory, and so he decided to take advantage of the other’s obviously splendid mood.
“Forgive my curiosity, sire, but would you allow me the question of why you are so … merry today?”

Thranduil turned in his chair and arched a golden eyebrow in amusement, a slightly wicked sparkle in his bright blue eyes.
“Why, my good Galion, do you mean to suggest that I have been ill-humoured of late?”

To his horror, Galion felt himself blush like a young lad, something he hadn’t done in a very, very long time.
“No, my lord, of course not. I did not mean to…”

The elven king’s smile merely broadened, and he clapped the other elf on the back, an action that nearly caused his butler’s jaw to drop right onto his chest. Was this really his king or some kind of apparition? While Galion was still contemplating if he should perhaps pinch himself – or the king as a last resort – to ascertain whether this was merely a dream or something similar, Thranduil reached out and drew a chair up to the table, motioning the other elf to sit. When the butler gave no sign of obeying his unvoiced request and only stared at him with slightly unbelieving eyes, the King of Mirkwood placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him into the seat.

“So you have been wondering what has put me into such a good mood, yes?” he asked jovially, still smiling brightly.

Galion nodded and, after some failed tries, even found his voice.
“Yes … sire, if that is not too … presumptuous on my part, of course. All know how … stressful these past four weeks have been for you.”

A shadow seemed to fall over Thranduil’s face as he remembered something, probably one of his son’s little “adventures” of the past month. Galion didn’t know which one – and he didn’t want to, either – but it seemed to be one of the more memorable ones.

“You have no idea,” Thranduil muttered darkly, eyes narrowing slightly.

For a moment, Galion feared he might have caused his liege to fall back into the dark moods he had been suffering lately, but to his relief the golden haired elf’s face brightened again after a few seconds, and he reached into one of his pocket and withdrew a crinkled, and, from the looks of it, stained piece of parchment.

The King of Mirkwood began to smile again, his long fingers stroking over the paper in an oddly gentle fashion.
“As you said, Galion, the last month has been … stressful.” Thranduil looked very much as if he would have liked to use a much stronger term. “But you are right, my mood is much improved, and the reason for it is right in front of your eyes.”

Galion stared at his liege, his mind spinning as he tried to make sense of what the other elf had just said. For a moment he contemplated if he had been wrong and his king was suffering from a terrible mental illness after all – there were more than enough indications for that – but then he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“A … letter, my lord?” he questioned softly, eyeing the king for any signs of discomfort. He didn’t know much about mental illnesses, but he had heard that some were accompanied by the strangest symptoms…

Thranduil’s smile grew even brighter, and he beamed at his butler as if he were a child that had just understood a very important thing.

“A letter, aye! But still, it is no ordinary letter, dear Galion!” He looked at the other elf as if he was sharing a big secret with him. “It arrived yesterday, and it is no ordinary letter since…” Here the king injected a small, dramatic pause, something entirely unusual for him. “Since this is a letter from Lord Elrond Peredhil of Imladris, my esteemed friend and ally who also happens to be the father of a young human named Estel who is – with the help of my son and his friends, admittedly – driving my master healer and myself to the brink of madness!”

The king’s voice had risen when he had spoken the last words, and Galion unconsciously looked over his shoulder to make sure that no-one else had overheard the blonde elf’s small outburst. Thranduil seemed to have realised the sudden increase in volume as well, for he sat back a little in his chair in an obvious effort to relax.

“But perhaps,” Thranduil continued, “you would benefit from reading it yourself.”

He pushed the paper into the other elf’s direction, avoiding his plate and a pot of honey on the way, but instead of reaching for the message, Galion looked at his king with appalled eyes.
“My lord!” he cried, looking scandalised at the mere thought. “I couldn’t!”

Reading his liege’s mail was not something he had ever contemplated, and a private letter at that – no, this was too much.

The elven king merely looked at him with that elegantly arched eyebrow, a look of mild exasperation on his face.
“You have my permission to do so, Galion,” he said patiently, yet there was a slightly annoyed undertone in his voice. “I do not wish to read the letter aloud, so you will have to do it yourself! Besides, you can start here, in the middle.”

Galion looked at the face of his liege, and after a second he decided to comply, and be it only to keep the other from getting ill-tempered again. To serve a king who was in too bad a temper to even properly acknowledge his surroundings was not something he wanted to repeat in the near future.

He inclined his head in silent acquiescence and redirected his gaze to the sheet of paper the king had unfolded by now, one of his fingers tapping lightly on the start of one sentence somewhere in the middle of the letter to indicate where Galion should start reading. King Thranduil’s butler only needed to give the script a short look to see that it had been written by Lord Elrond himself. The half-elven lord always drew every single letter precisely, as if a rushed message would somehow lessen the importance of what he had to say and would insult the letters themselves, and even the smaller tehtar symbols were placed neatly and orderly above the tengwar letters.

Galion noticed that the king’s fingers were beginning to drum impatiently now, and he blinked quickly to focus on the letter. The sentence started just under the large red stain that looked – and smelled – suspiciously like red wine, Dorwinion to be exact. What a shame, he thought, such an excellent wine wasted like this…

The drumming of Thranduil’s fingers quickened, and he quickly began to read, his eyes moving effortlessly over the flowing script.


“… But that is yet another matter, my friend. Now I come to what is in fact the reason for this letter, other than asking you to threaten my son with the most horrible things should he ever dare to leave your palace again. My heart is glad to hear that he and your son have recovered from their wounds, and yet I must admit that I am very much looking forward to seeing him again, and be it only to impress upon him the foolishness of his actions!

This is the point though where I have to thank you for your kindness and generosity. It was truly a noble thing to let Estel stay with you for most of the winter season, even though it seems that they find at least as much trouble in Mirkwood as they do here. I am also relieved to hear that Master Hithrawyn will not be leaving for the Havens yet; it would be a shame to lose such a gifted physician to Valinor so early.

The real reason for this letter is something else, though: As you well know, my lord, have the winter storms been not as fierce as we had first feared, even though the season has been cold enough here and, from what I hear, east of the mountains as well. Fact is that the passes are passable, even if only for the firstborn yet. Goblins should be less of a problem now, since they tend to hide in their holes at these temperatures and don’t dare stray from them too far.

All these things have enticed my sons to insist upon leaving to get their brother, and I am unable to stop them anymore. Ever since your letter arrived describing what had happened to Estel and your son they have been keen to go, insisting that they have to save you from further trouble – and to beat some sense into him, I think. They refuse to admit it, but they are afraid for him and feel the fragility of his mortal life all too keenly, and to put their minds at ease I have allowed them to go and escort him back home to us.

They are leaving with a small escort as I write this letter, and while under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have seen it necessary to inform you of their impending arrival so early, I had the distinct feeling that you would want to know. Besides, you might also want to warn your master healer that they are coming so he can prepare himself for their stay, short as it is supposed to be.

They should be arriving in nine to eleven days after you receive this letter, and I would of course be very thankful if you sent out search parties should they not get to Mirkwood in time. I don’t think that I have to describe to you how much trouble they can get into, especially when they are in the same area as your son or my youngest…”


At this point Lord Elrond started writing about something else, and Galion abandoned his reading and looked up into the brightly shining eyes of his liege. Now he could actually see why the king’s mood was so greatly improved, but he wasn’t sure if the other had grasped the full implications of what was to come yet.

“The Lords Elladan and Elrohir are coming to visit,” he stated cautiously, looking closely if the golden haired elf had really understood what this letter meant.

“Oh, no, Galion,” Thranduil protested and waggled a finger in front of his face, making Galion resist the sudden urge to follow its movements with his eyes, “They are not coming to visit. They are coming to ‘escort Estel back’. To ‘get him’. They won’t be staying long, believe me.”

Galion pondered for a moment if he should tell his king that it was not a very good sign that he had apparently learnt this letter by heart, and then decided against it. He was right after all, this was extraordinarily good news. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the young ranger, quite on the contrary in fact, but he really did not enjoy having to watch him, Prince Legolas and various other elves that happened to come too close to them drag themselves back to the palace to get patched up. Captain Celylith seemed to be doing a lot of that as well lately, and his father was not happy about it either, that much he was certain of…

“No,” the king continued, shaking his head. Galion’s presence was forgotten for the moment, it appeared. “The twins will only come and collect the ranger. I will lock all of them in their rooms until they want to leave again, and then I will keep Legolas in the dungeons until they have left my realm. And then I will lean back and enjoy the peace and tranquillity that will follow, and by the Valar, I will think of a way to pay Elrond back for this. No grateful letter of thanks is enough for what I have gone through. I think,” the fair haired king added as an afterthought, looking at his butler with bright, wickedly gleaming eyes, “I will not keep Legolas here after all. I think I will let him accompany the three of them, and he can stay with them for the summer. And for the winter as well, what about that?”

The other elf looked at his king with wide eyes. All that was missing now was an evil cackle and King Thranduil rubbing his hands together in glee, and one would be looking at the perfect picture of malicious scheming and revenge. Galion swallowed quickly, trying not to let his mounting anxiety show. All this was apparently proving to be too much for the king.
“Is that not a bit … harsh, my lord?”


Link: To Walk in Night @ff.net