Fall From the Truth

Chapter Six

Revealed

(A/N: What's that Mister Mob? This took forever to post? No, your watch must be slow…Why do you have that massive top-heavy wooden club in your hand? You want to what me over the he –

*several hours later*

Augh…I had this written like a month and a half ago – not literally obviously – but I couldn't bring myself to re-read it for the edits, or to reply to any of your wonderful reviews. It's not that I don't appreciate them – reviews are what keep me from sinking into a bottomless pit of talentless depression – it's just that you guys are all so nice to me, and I don't know…It's been a really rubbish month for me. I haven't had very much time to myself, either, so I couldn't write the seventh chapter (I'm getting to work on that this afternoon, don't worry). But, at last, aheh, here is Chapter SIX!!! I'm not sure if it's worth the wait, probably not, but this story's about four chapters off of a conclusion. THEREFORE!!! I'm brainstorming for NEW FIC ideas…got any!?

This is dedicated to, as always, Bobo – who's always there to give me a pillow when I accidentally run into walls or miss my window, aheh, to Tithen Min and her beautiful story(ies) that I've been really skimping on reviewing, accidentally, and deserve six hundred billion reviews because of their absolute excellence. Huntress of the Night, for being a great friend, and for giving me something funny to read when I thought I'd never laugh again. Spapple, for leaving beautiful long reviews and just in general being a large psycho – the only way I'd have you, mate, don't worry. LOL

There are billions and billions of others, and you all know who you are. =^^=

…BLUETOPAZ! Update your story! My indestructible Golden Dragon Mob with Very Hot Fire owe me a favour…I wouldn't want to accidentally cause harm to any of your worldly possessions. (cough). LOL =^^=

Enjoy!!! … somehow. LOL)

Haldir thrashed in his sleep, as though possessed. His lips spread as he arched off the bed, whatever scarce blood that had previously given colour to his face draining completely. Legolas watched, anxiously perched on a chesterfield parallel to the bed. The elder only trembled, curling up against unseen enemies.

Suddenly, Legolas leapt to his feet, staring dazedly down at Haldir. Automatically, his hand dropped to his waist, only feeling the unfamiliar smooth of a borrowed nightshirt and a distinctive lack of his longknife. In his sleep, somewhere deep in the fiery, hellish chasm of his reverie, Haldir had shouted out Legolas' father's name, deep in denial.

Haldir calmed his breathing as he doused the flame with a wooden bucket of water, the ashes issuing a hiss and an angry charcoal cloud of fowl-smelling smoke. Haldir winced as tears fled automatically to his eyes, and he winced against them. Quickly, he kicked dirt atop the dying fire, burying any evidence of what had transpired only hours before.

The Marchwarden rose, dusting off his cream tunic with trembling swats. In his haste to leave the horrible day behind, he failed to hear the footsteps – however light – approaching from the east, or to feel the burn of eyes against his back. Haldir instead slid his longknife back into the ornate sheath at his waist, the blade polished and devoid of the burdensome scarlet that now haunted his dreams.

Haldir blended with the forest as all Elves did. He shimmered simultaneously with the trees above. The pale pearl of his face seemed to be a reflection of the moon above as she bore her cool light down the forest, and his fists were too tightly clenched to continue trembling. Distracted, he practically ran head-on to an Elf before him.

King Thranduil was formidable even in only his dull hunting clothes in the characteristic Green and Gold of his realm. Broad-shouldered and square-jawed, he scanned Haldir with evident relish. Haldir lifted his chin, the stony arrogance he had adapted since Yatari's murder overtaking his previously emotional face.

Without warning, a horrible grin blossomed from Thranduil's jaw, his entire demeanor changing. His teeth glimmered wildly as he beamed at Haldir in absolute victory, eyes shimmering with an uncharacteristic devilish glint. With strength and brutality rivaling an Orc, Thranduil snatched Haldir's shoulder. Unsurprisingly, the vulnerable Galadhrim quaked beneath his touch.

"King Thranduil!"

"Oh, Haldir," said Thranduil, a chuckle full of evil mirth bursting from his spread lips. "I'm afraid your luck has just changed."

"Pardon m-me?" Haldir replied. Had Thranduil been minutely less perceptive, he wouldn't have noticed Haldir falter in nervousness. Had he been caught in the act?

"I never did like you," Thranduil said, his eyes still gleaming. "No, Haldir, I certainly did not. You are low, low in my eyes. Perhaps in Galadriel's hierarchy all elves are equal – but I'm afraid I think slightly differently. You are slime, Haldir – I am a King and you are but a lowly servant. I could squash you – " the King emphasised his movements with deliberate closing of his forefinger and thumb. " – and naught would even notice you were gone.

"Once, perhaps, I respected you as a warrior. Oh, you are able, I have no doubt – even before maturity you showed skill in swordplay, you were talented at archery. Even Greenwood's females seemed to be wooed by you – your beauty, your talent, and your particular interest in music and poetry. I was jealous. I was of noble birth and I was jealous of one of Galadriel's commoners! But I lived on, and eventually I forgot whatever quarrel I previously had with you, for practically three centuries. Until I figured something rather intriguing out after my dear Wife's passing…"

Haldir stared at Thranduil, incredulous. It was all falling apart. He had indeed been seen, he had been caught committing the most destructive act…He could only gape and Thranduil as his fate was explained through brutally slow, patient lips. "What?" he finally asked, his voice low, husky in distress.

"It appears, Haldir," Thranduil pressed, the mirth on his face draining. Within a second, the vengefully content King had been replaced by the firm, white-faced husband of a dead Elf, the King's hands suddenly trembling in absolute rage. Haldir could smell the sweat and anger on Thranduil's breath as he leaned close, whispering the words so quietly that Haldir could barely hear them…"It appears, Haldir," he repeated, agonizingly quiet, hissing, "that you have a son."

Haldir shot upright, and felt cold hands slither around his jaw, clasping over his lips to stifle the inevitable yell of horror. He closed his eyes against the heavy moisture cresting them, breathing in the scent of wood and pine on the fingers beneath his nostrils.

Legolas's knees dug into Haldir's back, and the Marchwarden shifted uncomfortably. Feigning indifference, he muttered a demand of release against Legolas' salty palms, but the Prince granted nothing. He instead leaned forward, bowing his head in a way that a cascade of flaxen silk fell over Haldir's bare neck.

"Shh," Legolas coaxed, then leaned back. Once his friend stopped trembling, he drew back, and sat himself once again at the sofa. Haldir turned to him with stony eyes, the red against white of his eyes that his tears had caused unconcealed by the darkness. Concern was written clearly over the lines in Legolas' brow.

"Don't fret, Legolas. It was merely a bad dream," Haldir said, forcing a small laugh. He offered Legolas a brotherly wink, and lowered himself back onto the bed. This time, he fell into complete darkness, and no memories threatened him from within.

"What kind of nightmare did you have, Haldir," Legolas wondered aloud, "where it you would feel fear towards my father?"

Against all training that Haldir possessed for an emotional situation like the one at hand, Haldir gasped. "Aduial," he whispered. "Valar – I thought that he was born a month early,"

Thranduil laughed bitterly, though his lips did not tweak into any sort of a smile and his eyes remained cold, blatantly staring at Haldir in outright rage. "I thought the same. There was always something about that child," Thranduil admited with a short laugh. "I saw none of myself in him. He looks like his mother did – the same hair, the same smile…But he was so pale, the kind of pale you don't find in Mirkwood. No, indeed – he was pale because of his moonbathed sire,"

Haldir shook his head in denial, struggling against Thranduil's grasp. The King held both his arms at the elbow, impairing any possible grasp of a weapon. "Your own mother was from Lothlorien – she was pale herself!" objected the Marchwarden in desperation.

"Clever lad," Thranduil replied lightly, shaking his head firmly. "I thought the same thing. She knows it was you, Haldir. She knew it was you from the moment the child was conceived during the Flower Festival. But she needed me as security, Haldir – she loved you, but she needed me to unite our broken families, and thus the lie. You share a voice, Haldir – you and Aduial. Every time he speaks, it leaves a wake of shock. You speak the same,"

Haldir remembered the Flower Festival clearly. He and Rhiw had been close friends, and it had been that night, drunk on the fumes of the coming spring and the rich, spiced wines brewed specially for this occasion, that they had confessed their previously unknown affections to each other. Unbeknownst to Thranduil, who spent the night dancing with a flock of admirers, Haldir had brought his new wife back to his talan and impregnated her.

Two months later, the announcement was made that the first heir to Mirkwood would be born in eight months. He was born in seven.

"How I hate you know, Haldir, for you have complicated my life greatly with your existence," Thranduil continued. "You see, I am now faced with a horrible dilemma. Aduial, who bears none of my blood, cannot be my heir and therefore cannot succeed me when I pass. Therefore, I am left with only my incompetent youngest who would rather write poetry than have children – and who hasn't associated himself with the Elves since he has befriended the King of Gondor,"

Haldir still trembled from the shock of this announcement. The world was swirled into oblivion aside from the face of the golden Wood-Elf before him, as he continued to speak. Something fueled his words now, and they poured from his lips lacking the control and regal air that he had earlier applied to them.

"He will not come willingly back to Mirkwood – not when his entire life is now based with that foolhardy mortal, a halfelf and an entire realm of those much lesser than him. He will not leave Gondor until Aragorn Elessar is succeeded by whatever heir his Undominel whore shall produce – and by then I may have already passed across the sea. I will not leave Mirkwood to Aduial – he will be banished from my kingdom to live with you once my plan is accomplished. But I have something to propose to you," Thranduil continued.

Since his beloved's murder at the hands of those folly mortals, Haldir had valued nothing more than his work. He poured himself into his scouting, firing with more accuracy and slaying with more brutality than he had when he had first received employment. Without Yatari, there was nothing but his bow and knife to accompany him during the long days along Lothlorien's borders. If Galadriel was informed that, in cold blood, he had murdered a defenceless mortal child, his title would definitely be stripped from him, and Haldir's life would hold no use.

"I'm listening," Haldir replied, stony, cold, emotionless. He felt as though he had sold his soul to the Devil.

"Something isn't right," Faramir said softly to his wife. She glanced up from a book spread on her lap, raising an eyebrow slowly. The Steward tilted his head, and emitted a soft sigh. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. "I don't know – but it seems unlikely that Legolas could have been killed by his own arrow,"

Eowyn raised an eyebrow, silencing her husband's rambling. "He has shot down many Orcs with those arrows, and you have never doubted the sincerity of their potency then,"

"That is all very well," Faramir agreed, furrowing his brow. He averted his eyes from the disbelieving hazel orbs gazing at him with intensity. "But I do not see why Legolas would bring them with. Aragorn said that earlier in the day Legolas wished him to come along on some sort of expedition around Gondor, correct?"

Eowyn made a vague guttural noise of agreement.

"Legolas never hunted," Faramir explained, "and no Orcs have been spotted near the outskirts of this town since Aragorn has taken the throne," he continued. "Legolas was in a forest, so arrows would prove to be nearly completely useless. Have you seen the trees there, Eowyn? There is barely a shoulder-width between each trunk – even with his accuracy, Legolas' arrows would succeed in damaging only the trees. He hasn't brought his quiver and bow along with him during a simple walk for many years now."

Eowyn tensed, her eyes widening in a way that brought to mind a stunned deer. "We must go see his chambers!" she exclaimed. Faramir rose, following her like a tame dog as she quickly scaled the stairwell, scampered across the hallway and bore open the door to his room as though opening an old wound.

She threw herself into the untouched room, and threw open his wardrobe, rummaging madly. Catching her drift, Faramir slid over to the bureau and began to dig through the drawers.

"AH!" Eowyn shouted, yanking something free of an upper shelf. She turned, clasping a strip of leather between both her hands so fiercely that they trembled and whitened. It was the strap, still attached, of Legolas' only quiver. Faramir's eyes scanned the feathered ends protruding from the gaping mouth of the elvish container, shimmering with disbelief. It was packed tightly, and indeed when he tried to remove one arrow from the quiver all those touching her lifted alongside.

"No arrows are missing," he explained to his wife, still wide-eyed.

She turned quickly, dropping the quiver into Faramir's hands. Deft hands explored the upper shelves of the wardrobe, easily extracting the longbow that Legolas himself had crafted, along with the older, dustier one that he had been blessed with by Galadriel years before.

"He brought no bow, nor quiver," Eowyn breathed. She looked up at her husband, and they shared a look of confusion and surprise – if he had brought no arrow with him, then how could he have been slain with his own arrow?

In mutual, unspoken agreement, they scampered towards Aragorn's chambers.

(A/N Prime: Aaaah, it all comes clear in the end, does it not? As I said, seeing as most of the mystery is thusly exposed, this story is drawing to an end. There are still a couple of twists I have to brusquely and unprofessionally explore, but I have the end mostly written – at least in my mind. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and trust me enough with updating before the end of the world that you stick around for the next one!

In individual responses to your reviews;

Anhesanumun: It's not a good thing…just keep reading! Maybe he's mysteriously *not* dead, aheh.

Linwe Seregon: Today, as a matter of fact. LOL!!! Sorry about the incredibly long wait…

Reginabean: Sorry for not writing to you in a bit – I'm starting on editing your stuff soon as I post this, don't worry! Glad that the search party was cute … maybe I should disappear again just so you'll send them after me?! LOL … Whoo, better start on the next chapter…BEATING STICK COLLECTION!? WHAAAAAT?!

Alkachion: Aaah, those damn voices robbed me of my reviews!!!! (shakes fist) LOL Sorry about the puzzling plot! I hope this chapter helped tie some of the wildly loose ends I left, and I hope you enjoyed! I've actually never read Macbeth, but cool that I'm like Shakespear, sort of – though obviously nowhere as good. Disclaimer; Sorry Bill. Riight, sorry. Of course Legly isn't dead!!! LOL He's much to yummy to die.

Evil Spapple Pie: Whoo, this'll take a couple minutes to write back to. LOL!! Not that I don't love it…long reviews make my ego swell. Hehehe. Sorry about the five minutes before school in which you had to review, though I must say you did quite well. LOL! Riight…Hope this chapter at least clarified a wee bit, though that's probably doubtful… Alright, you're correct about Haldir murdering unknown man's daughter to honour his (sob) beloved Yatari…Yes, Thranduil witnessed the murder with his uber-third-eyes, or something mary-sue that I seem to write, LOL… After that I can't confirm anything, but I must say you're achingly close…LOL I should write more decisively because you seem to figure everything out!!!

Spike's Lil Black Vamp: Of *course* Haldir's a good guy, he's just too lovely to pass up being a sweetheart, isn't he? Yeah, I sort of do slide in and out of conscious writing…SORRY! Hope you haven't died of old age between now and the last chapter LOL Cos your reviews make me happy!

Kayte Unfading bounces.

Riight.

Ivory Novelist: (blushes and blushes until her face explodes with blushocity) Aww…thanks! I can't believe you actually like my story…It's not that good is it? But thanks :D:D Reviews like yours make me want to keep on doing this. Sorry about the massive update wait!

Vania Hepskins: Sorry about sadening you with my OC version of Haldir L LOL Thanks for that…Yes, my fic seems to confuse everybody – I hope that everything works itself out…LOL

Tithen Min: SORRY SORRY SORRY FOR NOT REVIEWING YOUR STUFF! Agh, I'm horrid. ROFL Great subtle hinting, though. Hope you enjoyed this chap!

Ryoko: Eep! Sorry about my MURDEROUS (hahaha) story! Hope that this chapter doesn't kill you so much… I like your reviews! LOL =^^= Sorry for that entire paragraph there. Thanks! Hope you enjoyed!

Bobo: ROFL I know, hey!? Every review is like. "Your story is, um, filling me with confusion." Isn't it grand?! Aaah. LOL Isn't Haldir evil though? Ah, we all know what happens to him. (All: No we don't! Me: (cackle). LOL Hope you liked…I'll send you the next chap soon as it's done!

Vuaryn: I think maybe I should make Haldir spontaniously combust, but that doesn't seem like a very Middle Earth thing to do to a character. Haldir: I feel so guilty! And boom. Right. I need sleep LOL Sorry again about the horridness of this chapter and the long long long update gap!!

The Dark Rogue: Sorry about the confusion! I seem to have caused it in many an innocent brain, eh? LOL sorry about you skipping the lines….meh, they're all bad, probably worth skipping. Thanks for your review!!

Angel: Sorry for my hardly accessible confusing horrid story! It's not great though…there is so much wrong with it, it's depressing! But thanks for the compliments J I think that I probably DON'T want a Baba Barlog after me, so I'm going to start and try to resolve the tension LOL Thanks for the threat… I'm still trying to think of a plot for a EEEL Thing…LOL Any ideas?!

Celestra: Wow? At the badness, maybe. But thanks =^^= You're like THE ONLY PERSON IN THE HISTORY OF THIS WORLD who didn't call my fic confusing LOL – not that that's a bad thing, confusing I mean… I like to be puzzled. Right. Thanks for the compliments and AAAUGHH (is attacked by rabid computer mice)

Until next time, thank you a billion for all your marvidy marv reviews…I'm going to try and start writing soon as I get a muse! =^^= And I'll upload soon as I'm done, this time. Thanks again =^^=)