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Minerva	By : acids Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 3707 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Minerva (1/?)

Author: Acids (Acids_01@yahoo.com)

Pairings: Glorfindel/Legolas, Elladan/Orophin, implied Haldir/Elrohir, Lindir/OC

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Sequel to In The Name of Faith. Will there ever be peace between Mirkwood and Imladris?

Disclaimer: All of the well-known elves belong to mighty lord Tolkien. I do not own them and do not make any money.

Warnings: slash, non-con sex, rape, violence/torture. Not for those who hate the idea of evil Elves, not for those who hate the idea of Noldorin Elves gone bad, and definitely NOT for Elladan's fans. Huge apology: he is my evil Elf.

Author's note: AU. Very, very dark fic. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS! If you can't stand them, please do leave.

Hi and welcome to my new fic. Just like I've told, the Noldorin Elves will take the role as the bad guys, or more likely, Elladan will. Very sorry for this, but you read the warnings and all, and so if you still don't like it, you know what to do. Orophin is here because I'm just a little obsessed with him, and 'cuz I've promised someone (Red to be precise) that I would write a story about him. Hopefully, Red, you'll like all the cruelties I do for him here, he he..

The word Minerva means a Roman goddess of war, but it's also the title of a beautiful song by Deftones, and the only connection I could find between the word and the story was it's all about war and peace. The reason why I borrowed it as a title because Minerva was the only song I kept listening to during the darkest time of my life, it helped a lot to regain all my sensibility. And so far, I just couldn't think of a better title than this, oh well ..

Anyway, enough with the notes and please go on with the story. Hope you like it. Feedbacks are very welcomed.

Thanks so much Wilwarin for beta reading and Narcolinde for helping me with the title.

* * *

I get all...numb

When she sings it's over

Such a strange numb

And it brings my knees to the earth

And God bless you all

For the song you saved us...

You're the same...numb

When you sing it's over

Such a strange numb

It could bring back peace to the earth

So God bless you allFor the song you saved us...

For the hearts you break, everytime you moan

And God bless you all on the earth...

~ Minerva by Deftones ~

* * *
Chapter One
Orophin sighed and leaned his back on the tree trunk. His silver blue eyes swept through the files of gigantic trees surrounded him, and warm breeze of the wind glided to his face, flapping his blond long locks to cascade around his back and shoulders.

He was sitting in a small clearing inside one of the forest located very near to the border of Rivendell. He had rode to this place all by himself and after he reached this place, he then seated himself under the shadow of one huge tree, letting his mare, Phelia, to gaze around the wood by herself. By now, the beast was nearly disappeared from his sight, but Orophin wasn't worried. He knew she wouldn't stray too far and would come quickly with the first whistle came out from his mouth.

The trees in this part of the forest were so close to each other and their leaves were so thick, they only allowed dim lights of the sun to pierce through. It was so quiet, the ambience and silence were almost felt eerie and dark, even for him as an Elf; creatures that were well known for their fondness of trees and nature.

Nevertheless, Orophin paid them no mind. Somehow this melancholic air provided some sense of comfort for him. He however, didn't too bother to pay that much attention to his surroundings, for he had been too lost with his own thoughts. Dark and frightening they were, just like the atmosphere in this forest.

For the fifth time in a row since he had been sitting there, a deep, heavy sigh leaked past Orophin's lips, and he miserably closed his eyes.

He was grieving, that was the only thing the Tree-Elf was so certain about himself. It had taken him sometime to wonder whether or not he would eventually fade away, as he could feel nothing in his heart except for the feelings of pain, sadness, hatred, betrayal, and at the end, rage. They were too massive and too fierce, he could vividly feel them eating him to the very core. He could feel them as they brought him into a long slow self-demolition and plunged him into an abyss as dark as pitch, where there would be nothing but sorrow and suffering.

During the duration of his long life, Orophin had been nothing but a good Elf, or so what his two brothers and his fellow guardians had told him. He was one of the Galadhrim; a ferocious fighter and an obedient soldier, who had spent each and every day forsaking his life to guard the realm of the Lord and Lady of the Woods. He, who had never intended any wrong or malice toward another being.

And thus, he pondered what he had done to receive such an ill fate. Such a bitter fate that had started at the minute he had given up his feeling toward a certain someone; the same minute when he had his heart broken in two.

Orophin never would have thought it could be this destructible to fall in love and to hate the same person at the same time. It was undoubtedly a big mistake to fall in love in the first place; if only he knew it would lead to such a grief and hatred like those he felt now. He knew he should not let it happen, but then again he possessed no control to his own feeling.

His brothers, Haldir and Rumil, had so many times advised him to let it go, forget it, and carry on with his life. Being the tallest and the leanest of the three brothers, Orophin was as a very beautiful Elf, and even if he didn't wish for it, he knew that there were many eyes set upon him. He had seen the long line of Elves, be they maidens or males, begging for his attention and asking his brothers for permission to court him. Oh yes, if he had wanted it, he could easily forget the pain and could happily go on with his life, meddling freely with anyone he chose. He had tried though, only to discover soon enough that it was not working at all.

And so, at the peak of it all, Orophin had planned to kill him, the only being who had been the source of all his misery. He would strike him at the chest with his dagger, condemning him to his death, and then stab himself just so they could die together. But when he actually met him and looked him in the eyes, those that held nothing but kindness and sincerity, he faltered and could no longer bring himself to go on with his devious plan. All he managed to do was to just stand there rooted to the ground, crying and watching in silence as the object of his desire was being owned by someone else.

Since then, he averted his plan to something that even more malicious; a kind of revenge he knew would remain forever in that particular person's head and would struck him much, much deeper than any physical damage. Why he was here right now and what he carried inside his pack served as definite evidences for that.

As for himself, Orophin had not even the slightest care. He did not even bother to think of what kind of harm his act would bring toward him. All he could think of was how to make that person suffer and to end all of the pain, and by far this was the best way to gain both objectives.

Orophin blinked. He was caught overly deep in his despondency, but even so he was still able to catch a faint sound of something or someone approaching. His keen ears were highly trained to detect the faintest of sounds, even if his mind was somewhere else. He focused hard, straining all of his hearing ability to a better acknowledgement, and realized that he was right. It was indeed the approaching sound of hooves.

In one fluid motion, Orophin yanked himself to stand up and hide himself behind the largest trunk he could find. He had no bow or arrows, but his long sword was hanging in his belt, and he curled his fingers around the hilt, getting ready should he face some uninvited guests other than he expected. Then he took a peer and waited.

The noise was growing nearer, and the horses and their riders finally came into view. Four figures on the top of their white horses approached slowly and halted close to where he had been sitting before. All of them wore dark, plain green cloaks, tunic and leggings, which revealed naught of their origins, and hoods wrapped tightly around their heads, concealing their faces. White, long fingers clutched tight at their bows, and long swords were in their belts.

One of the four, who was riding at the very front of the groups and seemed to be the leader, bade his horse to move two steps forwards away from the others. The person sat very still on the saddle, as if was waiting for something to occur, then suddenly his low hiss floated through the air.

"Orophin of Lorien, come and present yourself."

Orophin took some moments watching them, before he stepped away from the tree, presenting himself to be arrows target from the three behind the first rider. Standing tall and fearless, the Silvan Elf introduced himself. "I am Orophin."

He stood unmoving as the quartet spent some moments to study him. The dim sunlight didn't allow him to catch the faces under the hoods, but he could feel their eyes bore to him. Time seemed to crawl before the first rider slowly dismounted and stood neared to his horse, holding still the reign inside his palm. With one tug, he pulled down his hood, revealing his face and his long blond hair. "Wel"Well met, Orophin," he greeted, his tone was cold and no smile adorned his face. "I am Midril, from Mirkwood."

Orophin nodded, but he did not offer any word as a reply, only stood watching as the Elf called Midril gestured his men to lower their weapons. At once, the three complied and following their leader, they pulled the hoods off their heads.

It was Orophin's turn to eye the rest of the group. Similar to Midril, the three other Elves shared the same attributes of Wood Elves. They were tall, lean and blond, as well as very much arrogant to his eyes. But it was the one who was guarding at the rear that drew his attention, for that particular Elf looked very young, and unlike Midril and the two other blondes, he had no appearance whatsoever of a battle hardened warrior. Orophin vaguely deemed what that youngling was doing in here, because to him it seemed that the he was a little out of place.

He then turned his eyes back to Midril, whose hawk-like blue eyes were still fixed solely to him. They shared seconds of silence, until it was the blond who first let out his words. "Have you the package?"

Again Orophin gave him a quick nod, and he held up his hand to pass him his pack. Midril received the bag with no word, and as soon as he had it in his hand, he hastily opened it. He wasted no time to pull out the contents, which consisted of five pieces of brown papers with an emblem of Imladris on the top of each paper, and unrolled them.

"It is like what I had promised," Orophin stated as the blond officer scanned the letters. "The documents of a defense scheme of Imladris' borders. It was I myself who took them from the chamber of the Lord of Imladris."

Even to his own ears, his words seemed to echo around the woods. There, in Hadez's hand, lay the solid testimony of his treachery, his revenge, and all the pain he had inside him. Elrond, along with the rest of the inhabitants in Imladris, would surely claim his head should they know of this. But of course it was far too late to regret it now.

"Are these all of them?" Midril's question snatched him back to reality. Orophin inhaled a deep breath and answered.

"There were actually more than that. But it had been quite a difficult task to retrieve them at once, and thus they are all I can possibly hand you."

Midril made a quick work with his observation and rolled back the papers. He didn't return them inside the pack. Instead he slid the precious burdens into his belt as if he intended to guard them with his very life.

Once he was done, he lifted his face and gazed back to Orophin, this time with a tiny smile gracing his face. "King Thranduil will be pleased," Midril stated in a more warm tone. "He has been waiting all along for these. Who could have thought it is one of the Galadhrim who would come as our savior? You are indeed very brave."

Not really knowing what to say, Orophin murmured. "It is..nothing.."

Midril turned to his horse and opened his own pack to pull out a small silver pouch. He then brought it forward to Orophin's face. "Here is your .."

Orophin needed not to question what it was inside the pouch, and he abruptly raised one hand, his voice suddenly turned as cold as ice as he spoke. "Keep it. I have no desire to possess such a thing."

Midril's eyes widened in a second; his hand that held the pouch halted in mid air. "Why not? I mean no insult. But you have proved your allegiance to Mirkwood, and thus it is only fair if we reward you for it."

"I pledged no allegiance but to my own realm, the Golden Woods of Lothlorien," Orophin retorted calmly. "I have more pride and honor than a mere pouch of gold, Midril. I am only doing this for a reason that I'm afraid is naught of your concern."

Even as he caught clearly a note of sarcasm in the Silvan Elf's words, Midril took no offense from it. With a face devoid of any emotion, the Wood Elf replied quietly. "As you wish." He put the pouch back into his pack and turned around to once again face Orophin. "Then I believe it is time for us to bid our farewell. We are too close to the border of Rivendell. Elrond's patrols are vigilant, and I have not enough men should we risk a battle with them."

"Then leave you must," Orophin agreed. "I will too take my leave. I have to return to Lorien as soon as possible."

Within seconds, Midril was onto the back of his horse, while Orophin turned around and was about to whistle to call Phelia, when all of a sudden the four Sindarin horses began to grow restless, as if they sniffed danger was coming neared. It was followed by an awkward noise like a sound of bird chirping that broke the quietness around them. It was not loud, but certainly was coming from a nearby area.

At once, the four Sindar were drawn into an abrupt tenseness. Their heads whipped from side to side and their eyes were wide in their gazes, trying to discern what could be the source of the estranged sound.

"What is it?" One of Midril's men asked, trepidation laced tightly to his voice.

In the confusion, no one noticed as a single arrow flew at fast speed toward him, until the Elf actually cried out when the arrow pierced his left shoulder. He would have collapsed from his horse if it were not Midril's hand that held him to stay on the saddle. Terror washed over the blond leader as he saw the arrow; the white feather on the rear end made no mistake of to whom it belonged.

"Noldor," Midril hissed quietly, and in an instance he shouted to his men. "Ride! We are under attack! Go now!"

Caught off guard, frenzied panic coarse through the four Sindar, and they urged their horses to gallop to safety. They couldn't get far though, as at the same time, about a dozen brown horses burst out from between the lines of the massive trees around them.

The riders were all dark haired Elves, and wore the uniforms with the gray color and marks of Rivendell soldiers. Three were with bows while the others had long glinting swords in their clutches. They were closing in from every angle, blocking each patch of escape, and the Wood Elves soon found they were surrounded, had no choice but to wield their swords. Then when the Noldor were closed enough, it was then that the battle begun.

All the while, Orophin stood at one edge of the clearing, watching in desperate shock. His fist was curled around the hilt of his sword, but he had no will to use it, nor had he any intention to join the fight. The Imladris Elves were not his enemies, and he would take no more blame by inflict wound upon them.

The Noldor were too caught in the fight and didn't seem to pay any heed to his presence. Slowly, as to not draw any attention, the March Warden began to step backwards. If he could reach at least a few paces from them, he could disappear inside the forest, then find his horse and return to Lothlorien. He could reach his realm in a matter of a few days and no one would know about this.

But all he managed to do was only take a few steps, before the coldness of sharp metal poked against the back of his neck. Fretfully, he looked up to find a Noldo soldier on horseback behind him; sadistic glitters were in the dark eyes as the Elf looked down at him.

"One small move," the Noldor hissed threateningly. "And I swear you will loose your head."

And so Orophin forced himself to stand very steady, lest he would risk decapitation. His breaths were held pent-up as he stood and watched the unbalanced battle unfolded before his very eyes.

What he was witnessing was rather a massacre than a battle. Besides Midril, who seemed was the only one who could gain a control over his share of battles, his three men were not so fortunate. The Noldor were too many and too ferocious, and three virtually unprepared Sindar were no match against enemies who were so lusted after their blood.

Already one of the blondes dropped down to the ground, being trapped under the weight of his dead horse while fighting one Noldor at the same time. The one who had taken an arrow on the shoulder was the first one to die as a Noldorin sword slit his throat, and his other companion was the next to follow his fate as a sharp blade embedded deep into his stomach. Their anguish cries echoed around the silent woods, to at last vanish as the two fell of their horses and hit the forest floor, succumbing to death in complete agony.

From the corner of his eyes, Midril witnessed the fall of his two men, and despite his heart was screaming to aid them, he knew there would be no more hope. The fight was over and all of his men were already died. Lashing his sword in desperate, raging blows, he finally ended the life of his second foe; the first one already died earlier in his hands. The other Noldor were still busy with his men, and so he took this chance to escape.

He galloped away and was nearly reach the edge of the small field when suddenly one brown horse appeared from between the trees. The rider who was on top of the beast was hooded, but he wore the same type of clothes as the rest of the Noldor. With a glinting, silver long sword clutched inside his palm, the mysterious figure bade his horse to charge toward the blond, and in an instance, their swords met above their heads, filling the forest's air with sad songs of sword fight.

Although Midril was fighting courageously, it was not hard to see that the battle was uneven and would not take long. The Sindarin officer had taken several small injuries from his earlier fight and was tremendously weakened. He stood not much of a chance battling this new adversary, who was even more lethal than the other Noldorin Elves he had fought before and seemed so eager to end the contest.
Overwhelmed by the furious strokes raining down on him, Midril lost his balance and nearly fell over, inadvertently giving his opponent to take an immediate advantage from the situation. With not so much as pity, the strange Elf struck his final blow, burying his sword inside Midril's chest and tearing a strangled cry from the blond.

The hooded figure then withdrew his sword and sat watching as Midril's body slumped on the back of his horse, blood gushing out from the open wound in his front. His body then began to sway, to slowly slide down and fell off. He was very much dead before he even touched the soft earth.

Deep silence filled the air as the strange Elf took some several moments to stare at the dead body of his opponent. He then sheathed his weapon and turned his horse around, strolling to where the rest of his kin were waiting and yelled his order. "Clean up this mess. This forest shall not be tainted by these creatures' foul blood."

With no hesitation, the Nodorin soldiers jumped down from their horses and promptly did as they were told. No one paid any heed to Orophin, who was still stood at his former place, silently observing the situation under the watchful eyes of the guard behind him.

As the end result of the battle, two of the Noldor were dead and three others were wounded, though not severely. The injured soldiers used the time to tend to themselves, while their colleagues carried on to work. They lifted the dead bodies of the Sindarin Elves to one side of the clearing and took care of the horses.

It too turned out that not all of the four Sindar were dead. One, who had been the first to go down and had been trapped under his horse, was still very much alive. As Orophin eyed him further, he quickly recognized the Elf as the blond Elfling, the youngest from the four.

The Sinda was now limping on his feet, being repeatedly shoved by a Noldorin soldier into the middle of the field. Dark liquid that was blood covered his right sleeve, and there was definitely something wrong with his leg that didn't allow him to stand straight. His huge, blue eyes darted around in alarm, and as they caught Orophin's, the March Warden read nothing but extreme fear in them.

He would have spent more time to take pity on this poor Sinda, if not for something else that caught his concentration. He felt as if being watched by someone, and as he looked around, he found it came from the Noldorin leader, who at the moment was still sitting on the top of his horse and was actually halted only a few steps away from, facing him. With the dimness of the sunlight, it was not possible to discern the face under the hood, but he surely could feel the Elf's skewering gaze pointed to him alone.

They exchanged a long moment of quietness, until the Elf signaled the guard to lower his sword and his deep voice pierced through the air. "Who is this?"

The guard who was standing behind Orophin withdrew his weapon as he was instructed and gave his answer. "He is one of the Galadhrim who had left Rivendell at dawn today. I saw him when he and his companions took their leave."
"Are you sure?" the Noldorin leader asked again.

"Aye, I am sure," the guard replied, smiling slightly to his Lord. "Never my eyes cheated me, Master Elladan."

As his words ended, the Elf on the horse lifted a hand to pull back his hood and Orophin soon found himself staring at Elladan, one of the twin sons of Elrond, the Lord of Imladris. Long black silken tresses framed one of the most handsome faces he had ever seen; dark gray eyes bore icily to him and a pair of velvet lips that twitched into a thin smile.

Orophin surely knew of this Elf and his twin brother, Elrohir. He had seen them several times before, either in Rivendell or in Lorien, when the two brothers paid a visit to their grandmother. But he had never actually met them, and he knew Elladan had no recognition toward him. It was the blankness on the eldest twin's face that strengthened his assumption of the said fact.

Still with a smile on his face, Elladan ran his eyes up and down Orophin's body, and commented shortly. "Guardian of the Woods, eh?"

There was something about the expression on Elladan's face that brought Orophin a sense of huge discomfort. His eyes and his smile exhibited nothing but a promise of malice; they caused a shudder to run along his very features. Orophin could not help to wonder of what kind of peril waited for him in the hands of this Elf and just like the blond Sinda, fear began to cloud his eyes, engulfing them almost completely.
TBC
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Minerva