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Title: Pseudonym (#133)
Author: Dimostiel
Chapters: 2

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Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: An elf child kidnapped at birth to grow up around men. She was sent out on a mission to assassinate the Prince of Anbrethil, but instead of killing him she fell in love with him. What happens when he finds out who she's working for and the even greater,
Published: 18 Jul 2003
Updated: 18 Jul 2003
Warnings: attempted rape (non-graphic)
Type: Angst
Characters:


Chapter 1 - The Prophecy

Years ago there was a prophecy that said if two beings share the same date of birth and fate allowed them to come together, they would hold all the power of Middle Earth in their hands, whether it be good or evil was their choice.


The prophecy was slowly forgotten by most, yet some still believed in it...


~*The Day Before*~


Elenion was born to the royal family of Anbrethil. His father, the elvish king, Telnarion, would only have the best for the little prince. He had only one sibling, Endmacar, his older brother.


Aralataien was born to Lord Esgalon, a half-elf of the city Midneve, and Lady Amariswen, an elf of the city Midneve. She was the first born of Esgalon and Amariswen and was very special to them.


Both born on the same day, both on the same small island, and both were to have the best of everything. Or so everyone thought...


~*One Month Later*~


Something was wrong.


The feeling Esgalon had wasn’t good. There was something bad near, yet he couldn’t pinpoint it. The normal sounds of a fall evening were lost to the piercing sound of silence.


Something was wrong.


He got up silently and walked to his daughter’s room, maybe the sight of the sleeping child’s face would calm him down a little.


~**~


“Have you got the child?” Vanwathulë’s voice was like ice as he hissed the question to Rahane, the captain of his small but powerful force of men.


Rahane pulled the still sleeping elf child out of the fold of his dirty, travel-worn cloak. Vanwathulë hastily took the child from the captain, as his son, Adrian, strutted over to tell his father some news. “As I was leaving I saw Esgalon arise from his sleep.”


“Did he follow you?”


“No, he seemed to be in a deep trance, headed down the main hall.”


“We have to leave now. If Esgalon catches us, the entire plan is ruined and we will not be able to bend the prophecy to our will. Rahane are all your men here?” Not that he cared much about them, but it was important not to leave a trail behind.


“All present and accounted for, my lord.”


“Good. Let’s go. Make sure all our tracks are covered” It began to rain as Vanwathulë’s small delegation set out silently, each knowing they would pay if they were caught.


~**~


He arrived at his daughter’s door and silently pushed it open. Walking cautiously to the cherry wood crib he had crafted himself, he leaned over, expecting to see the beautiful face of his only daughter, but there were only empty blankets.


~**~


They searched all night and well into the day. Luck was not on their side. The rain that seemed to pour endlessly had washed away all the tracks.


Esgalon did not rest. All day and all night he was out searching. Searching for one sign, but it was useless. Not even with his acute elvish tracking skills, could he find a sign. It was hopeless.


Amariswen watched search parties come in all day. Soaked, mud-plastered, tired search parties. The night before seemed like a dream. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her, Aralataien was her hopes and dreams. Since the day she was born, nothing could separate the two. And now, someone had and she didn’t even know whom.


~**~


The rain let up four days later. There was still no sign of anyone. Esgalon was beginning to give up hope. He paced around his large study. Books covered the walls. It was his favorite place to be. The large windows let in light that went into every little corner. He was thinking, thinking about his daughter and hoping she was all right.


He had come home two days before worn out, but he could not rest nor eat. He couldn’t, not while he didn’t know if his only child were alive or not. He wondered why anyone would kidnap his daughter. He had no grudges against anyone. Not that he knew of anyway. He felt as though his heart were being ripped from his chest. The thought of his daughter dead, or even worse, in someone else's arms, was literally killing him.


A light knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. “Come in.” His own voice was foreign to him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since he’d come back.


A young elf with blond hair and sparkling gray eyes entered the room and made a quick bow. It was Telpëelin, the captain of his guard and his best friend for many years. “Lord Esgalon, there is still no sign of anyone or anything. We have alerted lords all around to keep an eye out. Some are even sending search parties.”


“Thank you Telpëelin. You may go now. Get some rest; you look tired.” He glanced at the young elf that tried not to look tired; he had been the same way when he was younger.


“I’m not tir-”


“Telpëelin, I know more than you think. Get some sleep sometime today.”


“I will.” He gave a quick bow and left the room. Esgalon thought of his daughter. If only he knew if she was all right.


~**~


They were making better time than expected and the rain had covered their tracks. His plan was working perfectly. Mt. Edan loomed on the horizon. The hidden cave would be the best place to stay for while, just until the search for Esgalon’s daughter died down a little. He looked at the sleeping child in his arms. Aralataien, a name everyone would be keeping his or her ears out for. She would need a new name. Duriel, that would be her name. Duriel literally meaning dark maiden and that would be what she would become.


~**~


Chapter 2 - The Hunter and The Hunted

Lawr had run. The trees and bushes blended together in the early afternoon as the man ran along on heavy feet. Lawr had been running since early that morning. He was glad of the rain that had started around midnight. It may wipe out his tracks and throw his hunter off. He knew Vanwathulë would only send one person after him, Duriel. He felt a numbing terror compress his aching chest. How would he escape the most skilled tracker in the clan?


The weariness was pressing upon him; he was leaving a trail that anyone could follow. The sound of the river in the distance drove him onward. It was the only place he would have a chance at outwitting his pursuer. The river noise grew loud, his heart rising at the sight of the river.


He leaped into the shallows and began walking north. He scanned the banks for unusual movement as he thought about why he was in the cold and wet instead of back at home.


Mutiny had been spreading in the camp for the past eighteen years, ever since Vanwathulë had brought that *elf* back with him and christened her Duriel. They were all afraid to try anything, for there were still those loyal to Vanwathulë. Lawr’s group had been the first to go further than just curse the name Vanwathulë. They had planned to assassinate his precious, so-called daughter, but they had been found out and now Lawr was running for his life.


He hated elves, especially Duriel. Ever since the night they had to make the long march down to Midneve. They hadn’t been allowed to touch anything. Get the child and get out, those were the strict orders given to the small band of men. What was so special about her anyway? All she had managed to do was make his life miserable.


He checked the eastern bank carefully before hiding under some bushes. He figured he was far enough away to take a quick rest and not get caught. Besides the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. The dark cover of night would allow him so rest without being seen.


Throughout the night he slept on. He was awakened in the early morning by the sound of a bird twittering nearby. The first thing Lawr saw upon opening his eyes was a pair of word, muddy, dark green boots. He reached for his blade, only to find it wasn’t there. He slowly raised his eyes. Standing not a foot away was a young elf, no older than eighteen years. She wore a dark green tunic with a light green under shirt and dark brown leggings. Strands of her dark hair hung in front of her piercing gray eyes. She carried a bow, upon which an arrow was strung. A finely shaped elvish blade hung at her side. She leaned down so his ear was next to her mouth; the arrow still pointed straight at his heart. The voice he heard was one that he had heard many times before, but still chilled his blood.


“No one escapes from me.” A smiled played on her lips as she roughly lifted him to his feet.


~**~


Rahane sat silently by a fire surveying the activity of the camp around him. He watched as a brawl broke out. No one would actually die, however. He didn’t allow it in his unit. His hope to watch the scuffle was diminished however, as a young elf walked gracefully into the camp. She was pushing a man in front of her. His hands were roughly tied behind his back, Lawr. Rahane himself had silently supported Lawr’s plan to murder the elf brat. Of course, others had destroyed any hope of the plan actually being put into action.


Several men took the prisoner from Duriel. Much to his dismay, she came and sat down across from him. “ I see you made it back *with* the runaway,” he said this purposely trying to make her mad and leave him alone.


“And I see your still letting others do the hard work,” she snapped back.


“You should gather your belongings. We need to leave soon; we wouldn’t want your father worrying about you because you’ve been gone for more than a day’s time.” He smirked when she gave him a death stare. Her father constantly worried and treated her like a child.


“We will leave *when* I feel like leaving and not before.”


“Last time I checked, elf, I was still in command of the troop.”


Before Rahane knew what was happening, and elvish dagger was stuck next to his head in the trunk of the tree; an arrow was pointed just between his eyes. All activity in the camp ceased, and all eyes were turned upon the pair. “You would do well to keep your mouth shut.” She released the tension on her bow and pulled the dagger out of the tree, sheathing it. She stalked off towards her tent before he had a chance to reply.


~**~


Elenion’s elvish eyes quickly caught the flash of light brown darting through the trees. A nice price that would make, his father would be proud. This was the prince’s first hunting trip alone. He wanted to kill a large deer to prove that he was just as good as they were.


He quickly and quietly followed the deer a good way before it stopped to take a drink at a little stream. He quietly took aim. Elenion knew that if he missed, there would be no second chance, but fortunately his arrow flew straight and true. It pierced the deer in the neck. Elenion smiled to himself, his best catch yet.


He walked ahead into the clearing. As he bent down to inspect the deer he felt the sharp point of an arrow in the back of his head. He froze in place as a deep voice whispered in his ear, “Get up.”


~**~
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