Lost Tales from Middle-earth

Secret

When the King and Queen of Mirkwood heard of the wreckage that Crithriel and Baralinion left in their trail, they decided to act at once. They mounted their silver horses. The female one went to Thranduil and the male to Alcariniel, and they were named Silmo and Silrë.

It was on the twentieth of March that the four met, in the middle of the Brown Lands, and faced each other. Alcariniel and Thranduil and Crithriel and Baralinion. They all dismounted their horses. 

As they approached, Alcariniel and Thranduil suddenly stopped.

"Legolas? What are you doing?" Said Thranduil

"I am doing what I want, for the first time in my life." For a second he paused, anger climbing inside of him. "Can you not understand how terribly boring my life was? I always longed for something more. For a while I thought that going on an adventure would suffice, but it wasn't. I no longer am your son, nor is my name Legolas. I am no longer the nice and obedient little Prince that you knew. I am Baralinion, general of the Dark Lord, and nothing you can do shall change me. You have no other choice but to kill me, and you know what it shall do to you, no matter how bright the Light in which you bathe is."

"'Tis a cruel choice indeed that you give me. Would I let a slaughterer roam free or kill my own son? Can you not come back to us? To me? I have raised you, made you who you are, but have failed at my task. Will you give me your pardon?"

"Never. Always were you a terrible father, cold, showing neither love nor emotion to a son who needed it when his mother died. All of these feelings I now have shunned to never feel again. Feeling is weak. Feeling only leads to pain and grief. Being empty is freeing. I experience love only for killing and the delicate lady that is now standing next to me, and it is liberating, no longer to care."

It was in this moment that Alcariniel realized that the young and pure boy that she once had loved as a brother or a son was no more. He had been replaced by a terrible being. Legolas had been killed by Baralinion. 

His mention of the 'lady' that stood next to him brought Alcariniel's attention to her.

The hair of Crithriel was blond, but tattered in blood, and a wicked grin was sprawled on her once fair face. She was a human, which intrigued the Queen. How had their paths crossed?

The foul woman spoke, in a light voice, unnatural for the present situation.

"Baralinion, nigh is the time of their defeat. Should we kill them?"

"Yes, my black raven, the reign of their arrogance has come to an end. No longer shall they mock us, only Prince and Princess to the eyes of the people and not people who could do great things if given the chance."

At those words, Thranduil and Alcariniel looked each other in the eye. A Princess? They only knew of one Princess, whose name was Eowyn of Rohan. Could it be that the niece of Theoden had also been corrupted by the dark powers? All of this seemed unreal. How could such innocent beings as Legolas and Eowyn become so Evil in mere days? A dark Power was at work in Middle-earth. Nonetheless they did not wish to kill the two traitors.

Crithriel and Baralinion might not hesitate to kill them, but the King and Queen were too Good at heart to do such things, and the servants of Sauron knew very well that their opponents would do everything in their power no to harm them, and even if they had much more experience in Warcraft than the General and his second in command, they were greatly disadvantaged and most likely to lose and die, no matter the skill that they had harnessed and fueled throughout their long lives.

A thought came to Baralinion. Where could the Ringbearer be?

Frodo could bring his downfall, and he knew it. He had no choice but to find him and dispose of him, when he was done with Alcariniel and Thranduil.

"You believe that my fame is underserved, do you?" Alcariniel told them. "I am the daughter of Fëanor, son of Finwë King of the Noldor in Tirion. In Aman in the West was I born, and I know much that you ignore. I have fought far more than any who now live here the armies of Morgoth, and you cannot say anything to me, for what have you done to change Arda? I have nearly died a thousand times to protect people who resemble you, although receiving no gratitude because of a Curse and one mistake made not by me, but by the Wolf that borrows my body. And who are you? What accomplishments are yours?"

"You snobbish Elf! You can't understand us! You were given everything, while it was denied to me for my gender!" Crithriel spat.

"Everything? My father caused everything bad that happened here, my aunt was killed, I was cursed, I...I did something awful that I regret, I saw all of my friends die in front of my eyes and now those whom I trusted betrayed me." The last words were directed at Baralinion, yet he did not feel anything.

"And what do you regret?" mockingly said the dark woman. "Accidentally killing a group of men? Because yes, I already knew that. Not that impressive. I killed many more."

"That is not my biggest mistake, though I regret it. No, my most terrible deed was another."

"What was it?"

Now even Thranduil was intrigued. What was it that she regretted so much?

Alcariniel inhaled, and sighed. It was too late anyway, and they were bound to hear it, if not from her mouth then from another's.

"I forged the One Ring."