Legolas leaned quietly against the wall of their cell. It was dry, black,
and musty in here, and it had not gotten any warmer since they were brought
to this place.
He looked over at his friends. Gimli was sitting in the corner, Aragorn laid on one of the stone slabs that served as beds, and Arwen sat on the slab beside him, looking just as beautiful as she did when the were taken.
It had been a cool, clear night, and all were celebrating the anniversary of the defeat of Sauron at Aragon's home. The gardens had called Legolas from the gathering, which had become somewhat of a bore. He was not used to such 'parties,' but he felt that it was his obligation to come.
Gimli had soon joined him in the garden after fleeing the many people. They spoke of many things until Aragorn and Arwen approached them, they, too, seeking refuge from the many partygoers.
That was when they were attacked.
Legolas, in his moss green silk tunic, gray dress pants, and dark brown dress boots, had only a hidden boot-dagger to use in defense. Gimli had his strength, and Aragorn his prowess. Arwen fought bravely against the stinking, malignant attackers, but, in the end, they were all taken.
Their captors were orcs, for there was no mistaking the foul smell. And, being elves, Arwen and Legolas naturally received the more brutal end of their handling. Twice Legolas had been forced to step in the way of a slap or blow aimed for her, for Aragorn and Gimli were held far from them.
Then blindfolds had been tied roughly around their eyes. Instead of allowing them to feel the ground beneath their feet, or remember which way their trails led them, the four captives had been thrown onto the back of a hay filled wagon.
After a while, when Legolas had tried to raise an alarm among a band of closely passing riders, a dirty rag was shoved into his mouth, nearly choking him. Once he and Arwen had been thrown, still bound, into this cell, Gimli and Aragorn, who were already there, were kind enough to free them.
Arwen had unfortunately received the hardest treatment of them all. Her arms and back hurt terribly, from blows that Legolas could not block.
The orcs had laughed at him when he tried to protect her, his own hands bound tightly behind him.
Now, they waited in this cell, alone.
There was total silence. The air in this place was heavy, stifling, so that each breath and each word was a chore to utter. Aragorn sat up from his quiet rest and moved beside his wife, holding her tightly in his arms.
Gimli looked at Legolas from across the room, but the elf did not notice. The dwarf had wanted to speak with him for the longest time, but he dared not approach him.
"They come," Aragorn stood suddenly and turned to the door. He placed himself between it and Arwen as it creaked open slowly. When the smallest crack of light streamed through, Legolas threw himself forward and knocked the cell door open.
Gimli dashed out after him, and Aragorn paused only long enough to grab Arwen's hand. They pushed their way through two very surprised orkish guards, and ran down the halls.
Black stone lined the corridors around them, and the only light they saw were the small torches set every so often. Legolas stepped out quickly into a crossing hall and immediately leapt back, for a large group of orcs was marching towards them.
They saw his foot disappear back into the hall and immediately raised the alarm. Aragorn led them through a maze of corridors, eventually coming to a crossroads. On the wall hung an old, rusty sword and a black stone dagger.
He tossed the dagger to Legolas. Gimli had already ripped the leg off an old bench and was brandishing it dangerously. Arwen tried to translate the small writings on either side of the doors before the group of orcs reached them.
She was too late.
Legolas was the first to fall. A large club pinned him tightly to the floor.
Aragorn lost sight of the elf as he slashed and hacked at the orcs, trying to give Arwen enough time to translate the writings.
"This way!" Her voice was like water to a thirsty man. It had been so long since he had heard her…
Gimli was reluctant to leave Legolas behind, but he had no choice when their attackers leapt forward. Aragorn followed Arwen closely, turning every few seconds to make sure that the dwarf was following.
The hall was a dead end.
"No, this cannot be!" She cried, feeling the wall for any sign of a door.
"Arwen, stay back!" Aragorn commanded, "Gimli!"
The dwarf howled loudly and rushed the horde, swinging left and right with his makeshift club and fists.
The first impact with an orkish sword shattered the blade in Aragorn's hand. The shards cut his hands, but that pain was nothing compared to the explosion in his head when metal wreathed fists smashed down on his neck.
"Take them back to their cells," The commander snarled, "No, not the elves. We shall play a little before we release them…"
The orkish laughter haunted his mind as oblivion overtook him.
"Aragorn, please awaken, please…"
It was Arwen's voice, and she sounded on the verge of tears. Slowly, Aragorn managed to open his eyes, though the tiny amount of light in their cell stabbed to the very back of his brain.
"Arwen, you're all right…" He whispered as he saw his beloved's face above him, unscathed. Her tears haunted him to the core, "What—what did they do to you?"
"It was Legolas," Her tears flowed freely as he sat up, head pounding angrily.
"What about him?"
"They took him to the depths of this place," Gimli grumbled loudly from his side of the stifling cell, "They took us all to a dungeon keep, a large room where their implements of torture reside. They were going to rack the Lady Arwen."
"But Legolas jumped between the guards and me," Arwen held Aragorn's hand in hers, "He dared them to take him, not I, for…"
She stopped, "He said that I was no immortal, that I was more human than he. They care not for me now. They took Legolas instead…"
Aragorn saw the deadly truth in his wife's eyes.
"Is he alive?"
"I know not," She whispered, more tears dripping down her cheeks, "The last thing I heard before we were dragged away was the crack of whips. They were beating him, Aragorn…"
"We just recovered him, and now he is to be taken from us again," Aragorn clasped Arwen's hands tightly in his, "He hasn't even healed totally from the attack on him in Mirkwood. I fear for his life, and I blame myself, for it was my jealousy that drove him to injury first."
Silence fell once again over the cells as Aragorn consoled his wife. Hours past, and still there was no word of the elf, or of their captors.
Many hours passed…
The door creaked slowly open. The king of Godor sat up quickly as a tall figure appeared in the light.
"So, I have truly caught four flies in my web, and what important flies they are," A sadistic voice filtered through the cell, "You are my prisoners, King of Gondor, Queen of Gondor, and Lord of the Glittering Caves."
"Who are you and where is the fourth?" Gimli demanded angrily.
"I am one called Syphon, son of Saruman and Iona," Aragorn's eyes began to adjust to the light. The figure that taunted them had long, straight black hair, and wore black robes, "I have taken my father's place as the Lord of Orthanc."
"But the tower of Orthanc was demolished," Aragorn insisted.
"I have rebuilt it by the power of my staff, the same that my father bore when he was killed," Syphon's eyes blazed in anger, "And I will make you pay for what you did. You, that dwarf, and the elf I now hold in my torture room."
"What have you done to Legolas?" Arwen cried.
"Shall I show you what I did?" With a laugh of pure evil, the white globe crystal in the head of the staff flashed brightly, casting a beam into each person's eyes, blinding them.
"This is what I did," In the back of their minds, they heard the crack of whips, saw the spray of blood, as the orcs laughed, delighted with their sport. When the whips were exhausted, daggers and hot pokers came into play.
"No!" Arwen's cry broke Aragorn's heart, and the spell that held them in horrified attention shattered as well.
"He shall be returned to you, once he learns that sacrificing his life for another is pure foolishness," Syphon chuckled evilly, "And I have a few more toys that I have yet to use."
"You cannot torture him further! He will die!" Aragorn leapt to his feet, "Have you no heart?"
"No, I do not," He laughed again and the cell door slammed shut.
When the food came a few hours later, Aragorn dove forward just in time to keep the thick door from latching totally. The muted unsnapping of the locks rewarded him.
"When all hope is lost," Arwen whispered, "We must go, and we shall not leave Legolas behind this time."
"Aye, and I shall have first go at the necks of the orcs who tortured him," Gimli knew well what had happened to Legolas at the hands of a few remaining orcs in Mirkwood when the bounty of gold lay on his head.
But before they could move, the door opened once again. It slammed shut tightly after a pitiable looking form was thrown inside.
"Legolas!" Gimli was the first to the elf's side. He was unconscious, thankfully, for the wounds in his body were not mere superficial cuts. Aragorn could hear the labored breathing of the elf as he lay on the cell floor, his limbs curled in like a child sleeping.
"The wounds have stopped bleeding, else they have been burned shut," Aragorn winced at his own words. His healing hands touched the swift slice across the elf's cheeks that had already begun to disappear, "He will live, if there is no internal injuries."
It was then that Aragorn noticed the damage that the brutal slice had done. The elf's ear was fine, but his hair was cut close to his head. He looked like a young child, a very young child, as the now-free strands of hair covered his ears.
"We must escape soon," Gimli grumbled, then sat back, "I have seen injuries such as this before. He will not survive an escape attempt."
"And how do you know this?" Aragorn demanded.
"His arms and legs have been stretched too far. He will be unable to stand, much less run and escape," The dwarf scowled, "His wrists and ankles are broken as well. Being an elf, he will recover fully from these wounds, but not before that Syphon man kills us all."
"We cannot leave him behind," Aragorn insisted. Arwen knelt beside her husband, her eyes red.
"They will kill him or we will," Gimli growled
"Well, we cannot leave him lay on the cold floor," Arwen said, wiping the tears from her eyes. She guided the elf's body as Aragorn and Gimli lifted him onto his slab of stone, "Though I fear that this may not be much better."
Hours passed, again, in silence. Arwen tended to the still unconscious Legolas, and looked over at her husband every few minutes as he sat, waiting, by the door. This time, he would not fail. They would escape, or they would die trying.
There was no middle ground.
Four days later, their chance came.
Aragorn stood on the hill outside the walls of Orthanc, watching the tower blaze. The fire itself was a mistake, but helpful, for it had been seen by a passing battalion from Gondor. Now, as the soldiers tended to his, Arwen's, and Gimli's wounds, a small group of fleet-footed Elven scouts from Mirkwood searched for Legolas.
A thunderous groan ignited the night. Aragorn watched in horror as the rebuilt tower slowly crumbled to the ground, its burning stones cracking and shattering under the heat and weight.
"My lord! The scouts return!" A soldier cried out, pointing.
"And we bear our lord with us," The leader of the scouts said solemnly.
Legolas laid on the stretcher, utterly silent, his face far paler than his usual tone. The cuts and burns on his body had all but disappeared, and his limbs straight. Only his hair reminded them of the tortures he had endured on the lady Arwen's behalf.
"Will you bear him to Gondor? For there, I will see to it that he receives the best care," Arwen entreated the leader, who bowed to one knee before her.
"Milady, we will bring him to Minas Tirith, for his father wishes it so," He stood, "King Thranduil trusts the King Elessar with his son's life. That in itself is a sign of great friendship. And in that, I would put my service."
"Thank you, my friends," Aragorn smiled sadly, "We go now, for Syphon's orcs still roam this area."
"You all shall rest in the wagon," The commander of the army said, his older face wrinkled and wise, "For you have suffered much turmoil, and I would not suffer you to ride, my King."
"Thank you," Aragorn first entered the enclosed wagon, then guided Legolas' stretcher onto a bed therein. He then helped Arwen inside, and pulled Gimli in as well.
They all sat on the blanket-covered benches on either side of the small room. Arwen sat on the floor, having discovered a canteen and small pile of towels under the bench. She soaked one towel and laid it on Legolas' forehead.
"Here, dearest one, let me," Aragorn took the cloth from her hands, "You must rest. This has been a hard ordeal for you as well."
She smiled gently, "I will rest then, for I know that we ride home."
The wagon hit a rut then. Arwen shook her head at the jostle and moved into the back, where the bench was open. As she lay down, Aragorn looked over at Gimli, who was nursing an injured shoulder, received when he had broken through a thick door, allowing their escape.
The king of Gondor was just as startled as he when the cold cloth that had been lying on Legolas' forehead hit him in the face.
"I have no need for things such as that," Legolas groaned painfully, "What has happened? Where are we? Are we still prisoners?"
"Quietly, dear elf," Aragorn laughed softly, "Arwen sleeps and you were close to becoming face to face with the Doors to the Halls of Mandos. You were burned, cut, broken. You need rest more than any of us."
The elf sighed, "What else could I have done, Aragorn? The Lady Arwen could have been killed."
"Aye, this we both know," He smiled, "Now she owes her life to you twice- over."
"She owes me nothing," Legolas sighed and looked at the ceiling, "Why do I lay when I should be sitting? My wounds pain me not to that extent."
Aragorn could do nothing to restrain the elf as he sat up and moved his limbs experimentally. The only hiss of pain that he uttered was when he attempted to twist his neck too far to the right.
"You are amazing," Gimli grumbled, "First, there is a bounty on your head, from which you hide in the depths of Mirkwood for seven years to avoid. Then you are attacked by orcs and nearly killed. After that, you tell us, that you were killed at Helm's Deep and became a Shade. And you live because Time reversed and changed."
Gimli sighed and straightened his rumpled dress tunic, his eyes sparkling in jest, "Now, you are tortured by Saruman's son. When will you learn that being friends to this human will get you killed? You, as an elf, should have figured that out during the War of the Ring."
Legolas laughed, "Gimli, perhaps a lesson you should have learned was that I am friends with whom I wish. And, to more, injury to me scathes no one, for I heal quickly, and survive. Others may be scarred or killed."
"You are both full of hot air!" Aragorn shook his head, "Now sleep! Rest is essential!"
He shushed them whenever they tried to speak, thus sending them to do nothing but lie down and sleep. Aragorn himself stayed awake longer, for he sat at Arwen's side, brushing her hair with his fingers. She was so precious to him…
He sighed in relief and leaned against her bench, his head near hers. He would not leave her side ever again. He only worried that Syphon had been able to escape.
They stopped for the night at the border of Gondor. Once there, the Elven scouts from Mirkwood said their goodbyes and disappeared, leaving for home and bearing good news for the Elf-King of their forest refuge.
Aragorn walked a short ways from the camp, breathing in the wondrous night air. The stars shone brightly above him, comforting him.
He suddenly remembered the dagger that he had found embedded in the wall as they escaped. It was made from a strange white stone that glowed yellow whenever it was handled in battle. This Aragorn knew, for it had been his weapon of defense.
And it was glowing yellow.
A fist hit him from behind. He spun and came face to face with the deranged Syphon, who held the shattered staff of his father's creation. The top half was gone, lost in the fire, most likely.
"You! You did this!" He cried angrily, "I will kill you for all this! You kill my father, and now, I will make you kill me as well!"
Aragorn had no choice but the cut forward as the wizard's son lunged.
"No my son will hunt you down and kill you," Syphon slumped against him, grinning maliciously. The white dagger protruded from his chest.
The king of Gondor held him on his feet, "Why?"
"The blood of two generations is on your hands, Elessar, King of Gondor," The evil one laughed, "Once three has completed its count, innumerable horrors will befall all those you hold dear. But not you, never you."
"What are you talking about!" Aragorn demanded, holding him up by his collar.
"If death comes to my son by your hand," Syphon pointed at the wagon that Legolas, Arwen, and Gimli now rested, "Your wife will be stricken with an incurable sickness, your elf friend will die by the arrow and sword, and the dwarf will fall, buried under his own beloved stone."
"And I will watch them die, is that it?" The King of Gondor refused to let this man die, "Who is your son? I will never harm him. Tell me who he is!"
"No," Syphon died.
With a cry of rage, Aragorn dropped the man and fell to his knees. His friends ran to him, and the commander of the army knelt beside him, "My King, what happened?"
"I have the blood of two generations on my hands," Aragorn clenched his fists in anger. He looked up at Arwen. He could not bear to loose her, but how would he prevent the killing of a man he did not even know? He had to defend himself, but what about her?
"Rest, my king," Arwen laid her hands on his forehead, "For you have been through much turmoil and ache."
A wash of blissful sleep ran through his body, pulling him into the realm of dreams. But his mind screamed wildly. How will I protect you! How can I protect those that I care about the most? But he had already fallen into the sleep of utter fatigue.
And even from beyond the grave, Saruman laughed.
He looked over at his friends. Gimli was sitting in the corner, Aragorn laid on one of the stone slabs that served as beds, and Arwen sat on the slab beside him, looking just as beautiful as she did when the were taken.
It had been a cool, clear night, and all were celebrating the anniversary of the defeat of Sauron at Aragon's home. The gardens had called Legolas from the gathering, which had become somewhat of a bore. He was not used to such 'parties,' but he felt that it was his obligation to come.
Gimli had soon joined him in the garden after fleeing the many people. They spoke of many things until Aragorn and Arwen approached them, they, too, seeking refuge from the many partygoers.
That was when they were attacked.
Legolas, in his moss green silk tunic, gray dress pants, and dark brown dress boots, had only a hidden boot-dagger to use in defense. Gimli had his strength, and Aragorn his prowess. Arwen fought bravely against the stinking, malignant attackers, but, in the end, they were all taken.
Their captors were orcs, for there was no mistaking the foul smell. And, being elves, Arwen and Legolas naturally received the more brutal end of their handling. Twice Legolas had been forced to step in the way of a slap or blow aimed for her, for Aragorn and Gimli were held far from them.
Then blindfolds had been tied roughly around their eyes. Instead of allowing them to feel the ground beneath their feet, or remember which way their trails led them, the four captives had been thrown onto the back of a hay filled wagon.
After a while, when Legolas had tried to raise an alarm among a band of closely passing riders, a dirty rag was shoved into his mouth, nearly choking him. Once he and Arwen had been thrown, still bound, into this cell, Gimli and Aragorn, who were already there, were kind enough to free them.
Arwen had unfortunately received the hardest treatment of them all. Her arms and back hurt terribly, from blows that Legolas could not block.
The orcs had laughed at him when he tried to protect her, his own hands bound tightly behind him.
Now, they waited in this cell, alone.
There was total silence. The air in this place was heavy, stifling, so that each breath and each word was a chore to utter. Aragorn sat up from his quiet rest and moved beside his wife, holding her tightly in his arms.
Gimli looked at Legolas from across the room, but the elf did not notice. The dwarf had wanted to speak with him for the longest time, but he dared not approach him.
"They come," Aragorn stood suddenly and turned to the door. He placed himself between it and Arwen as it creaked open slowly. When the smallest crack of light streamed through, Legolas threw himself forward and knocked the cell door open.
Gimli dashed out after him, and Aragorn paused only long enough to grab Arwen's hand. They pushed their way through two very surprised orkish guards, and ran down the halls.
Black stone lined the corridors around them, and the only light they saw were the small torches set every so often. Legolas stepped out quickly into a crossing hall and immediately leapt back, for a large group of orcs was marching towards them.
They saw his foot disappear back into the hall and immediately raised the alarm. Aragorn led them through a maze of corridors, eventually coming to a crossroads. On the wall hung an old, rusty sword and a black stone dagger.
He tossed the dagger to Legolas. Gimli had already ripped the leg off an old bench and was brandishing it dangerously. Arwen tried to translate the small writings on either side of the doors before the group of orcs reached them.
She was too late.
Legolas was the first to fall. A large club pinned him tightly to the floor.
Aragorn lost sight of the elf as he slashed and hacked at the orcs, trying to give Arwen enough time to translate the writings.
"This way!" Her voice was like water to a thirsty man. It had been so long since he had heard her…
Gimli was reluctant to leave Legolas behind, but he had no choice when their attackers leapt forward. Aragorn followed Arwen closely, turning every few seconds to make sure that the dwarf was following.
The hall was a dead end.
"No, this cannot be!" She cried, feeling the wall for any sign of a door.
"Arwen, stay back!" Aragorn commanded, "Gimli!"
The dwarf howled loudly and rushed the horde, swinging left and right with his makeshift club and fists.
The first impact with an orkish sword shattered the blade in Aragorn's hand. The shards cut his hands, but that pain was nothing compared to the explosion in his head when metal wreathed fists smashed down on his neck.
"Take them back to their cells," The commander snarled, "No, not the elves. We shall play a little before we release them…"
The orkish laughter haunted his mind as oblivion overtook him.
"Aragorn, please awaken, please…"
It was Arwen's voice, and she sounded on the verge of tears. Slowly, Aragorn managed to open his eyes, though the tiny amount of light in their cell stabbed to the very back of his brain.
"Arwen, you're all right…" He whispered as he saw his beloved's face above him, unscathed. Her tears haunted him to the core, "What—what did they do to you?"
"It was Legolas," Her tears flowed freely as he sat up, head pounding angrily.
"What about him?"
"They took him to the depths of this place," Gimli grumbled loudly from his side of the stifling cell, "They took us all to a dungeon keep, a large room where their implements of torture reside. They were going to rack the Lady Arwen."
"But Legolas jumped between the guards and me," Arwen held Aragorn's hand in hers, "He dared them to take him, not I, for…"
She stopped, "He said that I was no immortal, that I was more human than he. They care not for me now. They took Legolas instead…"
Aragorn saw the deadly truth in his wife's eyes.
"Is he alive?"
"I know not," She whispered, more tears dripping down her cheeks, "The last thing I heard before we were dragged away was the crack of whips. They were beating him, Aragorn…"
"We just recovered him, and now he is to be taken from us again," Aragorn clasped Arwen's hands tightly in his, "He hasn't even healed totally from the attack on him in Mirkwood. I fear for his life, and I blame myself, for it was my jealousy that drove him to injury first."
Silence fell once again over the cells as Aragorn consoled his wife. Hours past, and still there was no word of the elf, or of their captors.
Many hours passed…
The door creaked slowly open. The king of Godor sat up quickly as a tall figure appeared in the light.
"So, I have truly caught four flies in my web, and what important flies they are," A sadistic voice filtered through the cell, "You are my prisoners, King of Gondor, Queen of Gondor, and Lord of the Glittering Caves."
"Who are you and where is the fourth?" Gimli demanded angrily.
"I am one called Syphon, son of Saruman and Iona," Aragorn's eyes began to adjust to the light. The figure that taunted them had long, straight black hair, and wore black robes, "I have taken my father's place as the Lord of Orthanc."
"But the tower of Orthanc was demolished," Aragorn insisted.
"I have rebuilt it by the power of my staff, the same that my father bore when he was killed," Syphon's eyes blazed in anger, "And I will make you pay for what you did. You, that dwarf, and the elf I now hold in my torture room."
"What have you done to Legolas?" Arwen cried.
"Shall I show you what I did?" With a laugh of pure evil, the white globe crystal in the head of the staff flashed brightly, casting a beam into each person's eyes, blinding them.
"This is what I did," In the back of their minds, they heard the crack of whips, saw the spray of blood, as the orcs laughed, delighted with their sport. When the whips were exhausted, daggers and hot pokers came into play.
"No!" Arwen's cry broke Aragorn's heart, and the spell that held them in horrified attention shattered as well.
"He shall be returned to you, once he learns that sacrificing his life for another is pure foolishness," Syphon chuckled evilly, "And I have a few more toys that I have yet to use."
"You cannot torture him further! He will die!" Aragorn leapt to his feet, "Have you no heart?"
"No, I do not," He laughed again and the cell door slammed shut.
When the food came a few hours later, Aragorn dove forward just in time to keep the thick door from latching totally. The muted unsnapping of the locks rewarded him.
"When all hope is lost," Arwen whispered, "We must go, and we shall not leave Legolas behind this time."
"Aye, and I shall have first go at the necks of the orcs who tortured him," Gimli knew well what had happened to Legolas at the hands of a few remaining orcs in Mirkwood when the bounty of gold lay on his head.
But before they could move, the door opened once again. It slammed shut tightly after a pitiable looking form was thrown inside.
"Legolas!" Gimli was the first to the elf's side. He was unconscious, thankfully, for the wounds in his body were not mere superficial cuts. Aragorn could hear the labored breathing of the elf as he lay on the cell floor, his limbs curled in like a child sleeping.
"The wounds have stopped bleeding, else they have been burned shut," Aragorn winced at his own words. His healing hands touched the swift slice across the elf's cheeks that had already begun to disappear, "He will live, if there is no internal injuries."
It was then that Aragorn noticed the damage that the brutal slice had done. The elf's ear was fine, but his hair was cut close to his head. He looked like a young child, a very young child, as the now-free strands of hair covered his ears.
"We must escape soon," Gimli grumbled, then sat back, "I have seen injuries such as this before. He will not survive an escape attempt."
"And how do you know this?" Aragorn demanded.
"His arms and legs have been stretched too far. He will be unable to stand, much less run and escape," The dwarf scowled, "His wrists and ankles are broken as well. Being an elf, he will recover fully from these wounds, but not before that Syphon man kills us all."
"We cannot leave him behind," Aragorn insisted. Arwen knelt beside her husband, her eyes red.
"They will kill him or we will," Gimli growled
"Well, we cannot leave him lay on the cold floor," Arwen said, wiping the tears from her eyes. She guided the elf's body as Aragorn and Gimli lifted him onto his slab of stone, "Though I fear that this may not be much better."
Hours passed, again, in silence. Arwen tended to the still unconscious Legolas, and looked over at her husband every few minutes as he sat, waiting, by the door. This time, he would not fail. They would escape, or they would die trying.
There was no middle ground.
Four days later, their chance came.
Aragorn stood on the hill outside the walls of Orthanc, watching the tower blaze. The fire itself was a mistake, but helpful, for it had been seen by a passing battalion from Gondor. Now, as the soldiers tended to his, Arwen's, and Gimli's wounds, a small group of fleet-footed Elven scouts from Mirkwood searched for Legolas.
A thunderous groan ignited the night. Aragorn watched in horror as the rebuilt tower slowly crumbled to the ground, its burning stones cracking and shattering under the heat and weight.
"My lord! The scouts return!" A soldier cried out, pointing.
"And we bear our lord with us," The leader of the scouts said solemnly.
Legolas laid on the stretcher, utterly silent, his face far paler than his usual tone. The cuts and burns on his body had all but disappeared, and his limbs straight. Only his hair reminded them of the tortures he had endured on the lady Arwen's behalf.
"Will you bear him to Gondor? For there, I will see to it that he receives the best care," Arwen entreated the leader, who bowed to one knee before her.
"Milady, we will bring him to Minas Tirith, for his father wishes it so," He stood, "King Thranduil trusts the King Elessar with his son's life. That in itself is a sign of great friendship. And in that, I would put my service."
"Thank you, my friends," Aragorn smiled sadly, "We go now, for Syphon's orcs still roam this area."
"You all shall rest in the wagon," The commander of the army said, his older face wrinkled and wise, "For you have suffered much turmoil, and I would not suffer you to ride, my King."
"Thank you," Aragorn first entered the enclosed wagon, then guided Legolas' stretcher onto a bed therein. He then helped Arwen inside, and pulled Gimli in as well.
They all sat on the blanket-covered benches on either side of the small room. Arwen sat on the floor, having discovered a canteen and small pile of towels under the bench. She soaked one towel and laid it on Legolas' forehead.
"Here, dearest one, let me," Aragorn took the cloth from her hands, "You must rest. This has been a hard ordeal for you as well."
She smiled gently, "I will rest then, for I know that we ride home."
The wagon hit a rut then. Arwen shook her head at the jostle and moved into the back, where the bench was open. As she lay down, Aragorn looked over at Gimli, who was nursing an injured shoulder, received when he had broken through a thick door, allowing their escape.
The king of Gondor was just as startled as he when the cold cloth that had been lying on Legolas' forehead hit him in the face.
"I have no need for things such as that," Legolas groaned painfully, "What has happened? Where are we? Are we still prisoners?"
"Quietly, dear elf," Aragorn laughed softly, "Arwen sleeps and you were close to becoming face to face with the Doors to the Halls of Mandos. You were burned, cut, broken. You need rest more than any of us."
The elf sighed, "What else could I have done, Aragorn? The Lady Arwen could have been killed."
"Aye, this we both know," He smiled, "Now she owes her life to you twice- over."
"She owes me nothing," Legolas sighed and looked at the ceiling, "Why do I lay when I should be sitting? My wounds pain me not to that extent."
Aragorn could do nothing to restrain the elf as he sat up and moved his limbs experimentally. The only hiss of pain that he uttered was when he attempted to twist his neck too far to the right.
"You are amazing," Gimli grumbled, "First, there is a bounty on your head, from which you hide in the depths of Mirkwood for seven years to avoid. Then you are attacked by orcs and nearly killed. After that, you tell us, that you were killed at Helm's Deep and became a Shade. And you live because Time reversed and changed."
Gimli sighed and straightened his rumpled dress tunic, his eyes sparkling in jest, "Now, you are tortured by Saruman's son. When will you learn that being friends to this human will get you killed? You, as an elf, should have figured that out during the War of the Ring."
Legolas laughed, "Gimli, perhaps a lesson you should have learned was that I am friends with whom I wish. And, to more, injury to me scathes no one, for I heal quickly, and survive. Others may be scarred or killed."
"You are both full of hot air!" Aragorn shook his head, "Now sleep! Rest is essential!"
He shushed them whenever they tried to speak, thus sending them to do nothing but lie down and sleep. Aragorn himself stayed awake longer, for he sat at Arwen's side, brushing her hair with his fingers. She was so precious to him…
He sighed in relief and leaned against her bench, his head near hers. He would not leave her side ever again. He only worried that Syphon had been able to escape.
They stopped for the night at the border of Gondor. Once there, the Elven scouts from Mirkwood said their goodbyes and disappeared, leaving for home and bearing good news for the Elf-King of their forest refuge.
Aragorn walked a short ways from the camp, breathing in the wondrous night air. The stars shone brightly above him, comforting him.
He suddenly remembered the dagger that he had found embedded in the wall as they escaped. It was made from a strange white stone that glowed yellow whenever it was handled in battle. This Aragorn knew, for it had been his weapon of defense.
And it was glowing yellow.
A fist hit him from behind. He spun and came face to face with the deranged Syphon, who held the shattered staff of his father's creation. The top half was gone, lost in the fire, most likely.
"You! You did this!" He cried angrily, "I will kill you for all this! You kill my father, and now, I will make you kill me as well!"
Aragorn had no choice but the cut forward as the wizard's son lunged.
"No my son will hunt you down and kill you," Syphon slumped against him, grinning maliciously. The white dagger protruded from his chest.
The king of Gondor held him on his feet, "Why?"
"The blood of two generations is on your hands, Elessar, King of Gondor," The evil one laughed, "Once three has completed its count, innumerable horrors will befall all those you hold dear. But not you, never you."
"What are you talking about!" Aragorn demanded, holding him up by his collar.
"If death comes to my son by your hand," Syphon pointed at the wagon that Legolas, Arwen, and Gimli now rested, "Your wife will be stricken with an incurable sickness, your elf friend will die by the arrow and sword, and the dwarf will fall, buried under his own beloved stone."
"And I will watch them die, is that it?" The King of Gondor refused to let this man die, "Who is your son? I will never harm him. Tell me who he is!"
"No," Syphon died.
With a cry of rage, Aragorn dropped the man and fell to his knees. His friends ran to him, and the commander of the army knelt beside him, "My King, what happened?"
"I have the blood of two generations on my hands," Aragorn clenched his fists in anger. He looked up at Arwen. He could not bear to loose her, but how would he prevent the killing of a man he did not even know? He had to defend himself, but what about her?
"Rest, my king," Arwen laid her hands on his forehead, "For you have been through much turmoil and ache."
A wash of blissful sleep ran through his body, pulling him into the realm of dreams. But his mind screamed wildly. How will I protect you! How can I protect those that I care about the most? But he had already fallen into the sleep of utter fatigue.
And even from beyond the grave, Saruman laughed.