Disclaimer: It's not mine, it's JRR Tolkien's. I'd just like to borrow it for a while. Don't bother suing, as all I own are my DVDs and you won't get those unless you pry them from my cold, dead fingers. ~ Linwë Serégon

Slightly AU, but if you have a very liberal sort of mind it fits in.

Thanks to my beta reader – Roobug.

Ambush - A Walk in the Garden

As was his way, Elrond Peredhil was walking in the gardens; the day's work was done and the evening meal was soon to be enjoyed, but now he walked in the gardens. He breathed deeply of the scent of growing things. The lilac was just coming into bloom, its scent at its best in the evening. The earthy smells surrounded him, and all was quiet. Not that it would be quiet during the evening meal. Estel had just returned from one of his excursions with the Rangers and was full of news from the outside world. The twins would be acting up, pretending that they weren't interested, and he would be acting as referee. Glorfindel would be no help, teasing all three of them, then sitting back and watching the resulting mayhem. Last night it had developed into a food fight, and he'd had to wash sorrel out of his hair before going to bed. His circuit of the garden completed, he stood enjoying the peace when suddenly...

'Father, help.' It was Estel's voice. What had the boy got up to now?

'Father please help.' He began to move towards the sound. Every time he took his eyes of the human, he seemed to end up hurting himself, or someone else. The voice was more urgent now.

'Father, please, you've got to help me.' Following the sound of the voice, he found himself walking up the trail, which, led to the top of the surrounding hill. He lifted the front of his robe so he could take longer strides. Pushing aside hanging vines, he stepped into a clearing. He stopped in horror; the clearing was full of orcs. Now his fears for Estel were compounded, they must have captured the boy. He glared around the assemble hoard seeking any sighting of the young man.

'Father please.' The voice pleaded again, but to his dismay, it came not from his foster son's mouth but from the foul lips of one of the orcs. He began to turn, realising that he had been drawn into a trap. Suddenly his world was split apart by pain, deep and terrible agony in his stomach, he looked down. An orc arrow had pierced him. He tried to run, but his legs would not hold him and he began to fall. To his surprise, two orcs grasped him under his arms and prevented him hitting the ground. He hung from their hands, unable to move, not really thinking clearly. A third orc approached him.

'Now, now my little Elf lord, we don't want you hurting yourself do we?' Its voice was a cruel mimicry of human speech. 'Oh no, we wants you to be alive for the boss, don't we? He wants something from you, and then we can play with you.'

It seized the protruding arrow in its hands and snapped the shaft off near to his body. Then with what appeared to be great pleasure it put a thumb over the stub, pushed it slowly deeper into his stomach. He felt the two holding release their hold, but stubbornness held him still upright on his knees.

'What do you want?' he demanded through clenched teeth.

'Wouldn't you like to know, my pretty little elf?' Then turning to the others, 'Come on, let's get out of here before the others realise he's missing.

The two who had been holding him upright now grasped his arms again and set off at a run. He didn't have the strength to stand and was pulled between them, his feet dragging the leaf mould leaving a trail. After what seemed an eternity the leader of the party called a halt and his two captors, tired of their burden, dropped him to the ground with a crash. He could feel blood running from his wound as he managed to push himself over onto his back. At least this way he could die seeing the stars.

'Ergh, it's still bleeding, look at the mess he's making on his pretty robe.'

The leader strode up to him, pulling from its pack a bottle stopped with a rag. The rag was pulled from the neck. Seizing Elrond's face, he poured a quantity of a foul smelling liquid into his gasping mouth. The taste was rank, and he spat out what he could.

'Naughty, naughty elf. Drink your medicine; the boss will be really upset if you die. He's got things planned for you when we get back home. Hold his head.' The same two grabbed his face, one of them forcing his jaws open. More of the liquid was poured into his mouth and his nose was held, forcing him to swallow. It burnt a fiery passage down his throat, causing him to gag and struggle against the restraining hands. As it hit his stomach he convulsed around the fire, gasping for breath.

'Right strip him lad, I need to stop his elfness bleeding to death on us.' His robes were pulled roughly from his unresisting body and flung to one side. The undertunic was torn in half down the front, and the leader leant over the bleeding wound.

'Looks nasty that does, your elf-ship. Best I doctor it for you.' It then poured more of the same liquor onto the lesion. His world exploded in agony, even to breathe was torture as the fluid seemed to seep into his soul. He heard someone screaming and realised it was him as he sunk into the blessed relief of unconsciousness. 

Later as the moon sunk towards the horizon, he awoke. The pain was still there, but he would endure it. He realised that the orcs had set up a rough camp. There was a fire and the majority of them were clustered around it. From where he laid he could see two sentries supposedly keeping watch, they both had their backs towards him. No one know he was awake. If he could get into the trees, he might be able to make his way to safety. At least he would be out of their hands. Breathing shallowly to still the pain, he pulled his legs under him, then in a burst of energy leapt towards the tree. His questing fingers grasped a branch and he began to pull himself into the tree. A shout came from behind- one of the sentries had spotted him. No matter, he was safe now. A calloused hand grabbed his ankle and a bitter tug of war ensured. A battle he was too weak to win, as he was pulled from the tree to crash to the ground. The orcs gathered round began to kick and hammer blows on him, he curled into a ball trying to protect his body from the worse of their attention. Looking through pain-glazed eyes he spotted a gap in the surrounding rabble and leapt forward again. He was free, and running. He ran as he had never run before- he ran for his life. The trees whipped at his face and body but he carried on regardless. Suddenly there was no more land in front of him, there was open space, and he fought to check his momentum, nearly managing until an orc ran into his back, pitching them both into the void.