Mirkwood Lost
By Lothlórien
Legolas dove under the Uruk-Hai's blade, wishing fervently that he had his bow, or long-knives. But they had been taken by surprise, and his weapons lay forgotten under the body of four dead Uruk-Hai.
All that he could use to defend himself was the single long-knife that Haldir had spared him.
At first, he had cursed himself for being caught off guard. His light blue tunic and light pants were not suitable for fighting the terrible Uruk-Hai. At least his boots didn't betray his step.
Now, he wondered if they were still within the boundaries of the Golden Wood. If there were Uruk-Hai in Lothlórien, it boded evil for the elves and the Fellowship.
Of the other elves, he stood alone with his long-knife. The others shot arrows and bowstrings sang while the prince of Mirkwood fought with a blade.
"Haldir!" Legolas saw the Uruk-Hai snatch the elf's wrist. The menacing creature threw the fair guard against a tree, effectively knocking the bow from his numbed fingers.
Legolas' long-knife flew through the air, catching the attacking Uruk-Hai in the throat. But now he was defenseless.
Haldir struggled to his feet, "Back to the boundary! We must have left the Wood early! Back all!"
Legolas quickly noted who was here. They were all there, save for…they were missing one, and none had been killed in the attack. Where was the fifth of their group?
"Help me!" The cry came from an elf, cornered against a thrice group of Uruk-Hai. He was not frightened, but he called for any help that might come. Legolas turned to help, snatching up his fallen long-knife.
The first of the Uruk-Hai spun and threw his own plank-like sword at the would-be rescuer. Legolas threw his blade at the same time, planning to strike the orc-like demon and still have time to dodge the sword.
The two blades met. The thickness of the Uruk-Hai sword prevented it from being cleaved, but the fine elven metal of Haldir's long-knife split a large notch in the side.
"Legolas, no!" Haldir cried after him, afraid for what might happen to the prince while under his care.
The fair elf paid no heed. Even as the two enmeshed blades fell to the ground, he had snatched up an elven bow and two arrows, one Uruk-Hai, and one elven.
The cornered elf cried out in pain as a heavy fist came down on his shoulder. He was able to snatch up his own bow, though he had no arrows. Legolas shot at two attackers.
"Go!"
The elf headed his command and ran, disappearing quickly into the trees, after Haldir and the others. Legolas turned to follow.
Then a familiar, unearthly scream tore the already spoiled morning air. A Black Rider stepped down from his demon steed, his sword in hand. He spoke, and his voice was foul and evil.
"Prince of Mirkwood," He hissed, pulling his sword back, ready to strike, "Isengard awaits you."
"What would Saruman want with me?" Legolas demanded, "You do not serve him."
"Aaaaaiiiiiiiii!" The Black Rider screamed, but the attack didn't come from the Nazgûl or his horse. The forgotten Uruk-Hai survivor, one in number, took up a fallen elven bow and shot the same arrow that Legolas had used to kill one of his companions.
The Mirkwood prince's cry of pain cut off the Black Rider's screech. Legolas' face contorted in agony as the straight and true elven arrow pierced his back. As he fell to his knees, the Black Rider shimmered.
It was Saruman.
"You don't think that I would not know where your pitiful group would go to hide?" The white robed man taunted, his staff glittering in the dim, filtered light, "I am not senile, like that idiot, Gandalf."
Legolas meant not to answer, so he stayed his tongue. All that he did was clutch his chest tightly, in an effort to halt the pain, and keep his eyes on the ground, away from Saruman's.
"You are coming with me, friend elf," Saruman taunted, "For I am in need of your services."
Legolas' cry of pain as the arrow was torn out of his back echoed through the trees.
"Lord Celeborn! Lady Galadriel!" The elf whose life Legolas had saved, named Ceresin, ran into the council chamber where the Lord, Lady, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli were speaking of their belated return.
"Ceresin, what has happened?" Celeborn demanded, standing.
Lady Galadriel stood as well, her lips parting in alarm, "He has been taken from us, to Isengard."
"My lady," Ceresin bowed, "Haldir has returned in order to find him, but told me to return to you."
"Go and rest, Ceresin, have your wounds treated," Celeborn dismissed him, then turned to Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli. Aragorn stood.
"We must retrieve him," He stated, leaning on his fist, "The Quest must be delayed."
"Aragorn, what would Saruman want with the elf?" Boromir asked, tapping his fingers on the white marble council table.
"What is running through your mind, Son of Gondor?" Gimli inquired of him, readjusting his short, muscular build to look at the warrior, "Do you know something that we do not?"
"No, I was merely wondering," Boromir leaned back, folding his hands in his lap.
Galadriel spoke, interrupting them with her musical Noldorin voice.
"Saruman would have many a motive for capturing the Son of Thranduil," She sat back in her chair, "One of which reasons could possibly be a trap for the elves of Mirkwood."
"What would that gain him?" Aragorn asked, glancing at Boromir.
"If he moved south to join Sauron in Mordor, he would have the armies of Mirkwood to contend with at his back," Galadriel sighed. Her voice was shaky, "If he took Legolas and convinced his father to stay his armies for fear of his death, he would be free to enter Mordor and march straight to Barad-Dûr."
This revelation was driven straight to the hearts of all those present. Gimli grunted and tapped a thick finger on the table. He seemed to be thinking hard.
"What in blazes were Uruk-Hai doing in Lothlorien?" He suddenly slammed his fist on the table, "And what was the elf doing away from the rest of the Fellowship anyway?"
"Legolas confided in me a few days ago," Celeborn returned to seat as well, "We are kin, and he felt it necessary to speak to me of his longing for home. I offered a chance to ride to the edge of Lothlorien and back with a small group of elves at his side."
"He was homesick?" Aragorn seemed surprised, "Why did he not speak to us of this?"
"Of that I do not know," Celeborn shook his head, "Before he left, I felt that he would be in danger if he left, but I had already begun to see the wear of stagnancy that had begun to affect his heart. He had never been one to rest when there was work to be done."
"I also asked him to go," Galadriel shook her head, "He needed to ride, for his own sake. I gave him a small pendant to wear in case of need. He must not have remembered it, for I did not feel its call."
"So there would be a way to find him…when we enter Isengard?" Boromir stated, not meeting the surprised gazes of Aragorn and Gimli. They had noticed his use of the word, 'when.'
"Yes," She stated simply, "But you must hurry, if you plan to rescue him in sound body. I fear for his spirit, as well as his physical body. I felt the pain he received at the end of the elven arrow."
"So he could be dying now," Aragorn stated grimly, "And we are here, speaking. Words will not save my friend, only action."
"Then go you must, with a pair of elven guards to accompany you," Celeborn stood quietly and made his way to one of the elegant windows, "When he returns, Haldir will accompany you, as well as one whom I would trust with my life."
"And who would that be, Lord Celeborn?" Boromir seemed uneasy about this whole adventure, and did not jump to volunteer anything or anyone.
"Celephel, an elf woman who had traveled to whole of Middle Earth and is as old as I," Celeborn sighed, "She is of my close kin and would lead you wherever you wanted to go."
"Gah, she wouldn't survive a minute in Moria," Gimli stood and clomped over to Aragorn's side.
"She has been in Moria, only once, for that was when the Orcs attacked Balin and his colony," A strange voice, one that bespoke of experience, yet childlike personality, wafted through the room as an elven woman followed a tired Haldir through the door.
"Celephel," Celeborn greeted his kin with a gentle hand-touch.
"My Lord Celeborn," She nodded, "Moria is a black place, and I never wish to go there again, even if Mithrandir has destroyed the Balrog."
At the mention of Gandalf's elven name, the faces of all present fell.
"Haldir, news of the attack," Celeborn prompted the troubled elf.
"I have recovered Legolas' bow and long-knives," He held the weapons in his arms, "The stink of evil magic is accompanied by the smell of elven blood."
Galadriel sucked in a breath, and Celephel, her light robes rustling like the leaves, stood by her side. They seemed to exchange a silent conversation.
"I will take you to Isengard," Celephel nodded, her face troubled, "Though that place is evil and I do not enjoy the chance of seeing the tower again. Memories of that place are black."
"Come in, Merry, Pippin," Celeborn called. The two hobbits trudged in, embarrassed at being caught, but Pippin's face brightened when he saw Celephel.
"Oh, hello again," He said cheerily.
"Peregrin," She nodded.
"You know each other?" Boromir finally snapped out of his admiring trance. The Lady Celephel had fascinated him.
"Celephel helped me out of a jam a few years back, when Merry and I were—um, visiting Farmer Maggot," Pippin shrugged, "I never really though t that I'd see her again."
Celeborn turned a disapproving eye to Celephel, who turned red, if such a thing were possible. Gimli broke out into booming laughter.
"I would wager that I am the first dwarf to ever see an elf blush to the tip of her ears!" He laughed, and Boromir barely caught himself about to do the same.
"We must set out tonight," Aragorn said grimly, "The hobbits will stay here."
"What?" Merry and Pippin cried at once. They didn't want to be left behind anywhere, even in Lothlórien.
"Young ones, come here," Galadriel beckoned them to approach her seat. As she proceeded to tell them what had happened, Merry's face turned dark with thought and Pippin's grew white with dismay.
Merry spoke first, after Galadriel had finished.
"We will stay," Pippin stared as if Merry had just told him that they were never going to eat again.
"What?"
"Frodo needs us here," He bit his lip and looked at Aragorn, "He needs to stay here, and if we don't stay too, he'll worry. Sam, too."
Pippin sighed and headed towards the door, "Then I don't want to hear any more. Or else I'll have to tie myself up in order to keep myself here."
Merry quickly bid Aragorn and the others goodbye and followed his cousin. A great quiet fell over the room.
Gimli stood quietly beside Aragorn, while Boromir sat, perturbed. Celephel and Haldir held their own quiet council in the corner of the room.
Celeborn spoke up, "You will need to leave as soon as possible, tomorrow morning at the latest. I fear for my kin's life."
"Tomorrow morning it is," Aragorn nodded, agreeing with the Elven Lord's assessment, "I will tell Frodo."
"Aha! Orc hunting!" Gimli roared happily.
Legolas sat quietly in the corner of the cave cell, his wrists and ankles raw and bleeding from the chafing shackles. There was really no where to go for him, and he knew it all too well.
The injury in his back had turned a fiery red and swelled. Saruman had treated it as well as he had wanted to, leaving him with pain at every breath.
His tunic had been torn and stained by the blood of the arrow. Past that, the light blue elven material was bright, standing as dim beacon in the darkness of the cell.
He sighed, then held his breath, waiting for the fire to ebb in his wound. Through this, the son of Thranduil showed no emotion in his face, or his eyes, only in his mind, which was racing with thoughts.
It has been only a short while, He reasoned, They will not mount a search until the morning, even if they know where I am, it will take them at least until then.
With these comforting thoughts, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The pain attacked once again, leaving him with closed eyes. He dreaded what the wizard Saruman might do, to him, to his friends, to the Fellowship…
"Legolas!" The taunting call of Saruman sickened him, "Come."
The cell door opened, though there was no one there to open it. Legolas, unable to control his own legs, stood and walked through the cell door. He came face to face with Saruman in his throne room before he was under his own control again.
"What do you want with me?" Legolas asked, each word sending burning, tingling pain through his back and lungs.
"I want you to serve me," Saruman said bluntly.
Legolas looked at him, concerned at his words.
"As a true prince of power, not only as a prince of a forest," Saruman smiled grandfatherly, "You would serve me, lead my armies, and then, if I pass on, you would become my heir."
"Why are you offering this to me, an elf?" Legolas demanded, "Why not entice a Man, or Dwarf? Why me?"
"Because you are the one that I can use to destroy the Fellowship," Saruman suddenly turned serious and easily angered, "Through your servitude, I will destroy them. Through your death, I will destroy them."
Legolas looked away. He would not betray his friends.
"Your answer then?" Before Legolas could say anything, the wound in his back became fresh again, the agony of the arrow wound pouring through his body once again. His lack of a cry of pain angered Saruman.
"I will give you the same choice that I gave Gandalf," He snarled, "I hope that you will be smarter than that old fool."
Legolas clutched his chest, and his palm closed over the small pendant that the Lady Galadriel had given him before he left on his ride. He remembered it as being small, made of ornately woven silver.
"Hah!" Saruman's staff swung, and Legolas was thrown against the wall. His cry of surprise and pain brought a smile to the evil wizard's face.
Another swing and Legolas was slammed into the floor. He couldn't stand this much longer…
Legolas tried to rise, but he fell back to the cold ground, his elfin cheek pressed against the black stone. Across the floor, hidden in the corner, was the tiny body of a dead moth.
Suddenly, the elven prince was back in the dungeons of Isengard, though not in his cell. Chains around his wrists and ankles held him between two pillars. Slimy, slobbering orcs glanced at him, licking their lips in anticipation of a taste of elven flesh.
In front of him, across the arena-like room, stood Saruman, holding his staff in one hand, and a delicately balanced dagger in the other. His fingers traced the elegant engravings on the blade.
"This is the dagger that took the life of Isildur's general, at the skirmish where Isildur himself was slain," Saruman dropped the dagger almost casually, but his powers held it suspended in the air.
The blade flew through the air.
Legolas barely moved when the blade hit him. His face was solid and he was unwilling to reveal the pain that he felt both in his physical body and his emotional heart.
The cursed metal had struck him hard in the right side, opening his side. Blood poured down his leg and pooled on the floor.
For the next few hours, Legolas withstood as much of the beatings as he could. Only once did his legs fail him, when the blade came almost too close to his throat.
Eventually, Saruman became wearied with his sport and left the room. The orcs had long since gathered to watch the torture. Now, they murmured among themselves, disappointed that there would be no more torment for the elf.
Legolas just existed, barely able to breathe. He knew that the oldest wound, the one in his back, opened into his lung. Saruman had purposely avoided healing the arrow gouge, keeping the elf short of breath at all times.
The other blade wounds had been aimed to incapacitate him as much as possible. His right leg was useless, as was his left arm. Even if he did escape the shackles and chains, he would be totally unable to creep past the gates without being seen, or, more disturbingly, smelt.
Why does he want me here? Legolas forced thoughts through a pain fogged mind, He doesn't want to offer me riches or power. He wants to trap Aragorn and the others.
And he would die before he allowed any preventable harm to come against the Fellowship. He would give up his life for any of them, even Pippin or Gimli.
He groaned softly and raised himself up to a standing position. His leg protested painfully, but he bit back the pain. If only he could reach the pendant…
The chains held his wrists too far away. That wouldn't work. Somehow, he had to break the tiny vial inside the silver weavings.
When the orcs began to twitter again and Saruman re-entered the room, he knew that he would have to try again later.
"Celephel, Haldir, what do you see?" Aragorn asked, holding the reigns to his horse steady.
"I see a group of ten Uruk-Hai approaching us from the left, where we should be heading," Haldir stated. They had been forced to weave around the orc patrols for all morning.
"That stand of trees should give us ample protection," Celephel said, gesturing to a nearby group of large trees. Off to the far left, the tower of Isengard stood, black and foreboding.
"Then that is where we shall go," Aragorn spurred on his horse. Gimli, who was the only one of the group that couldn't ride, had been forced to hold tightly to his horse's neck until he felt like he could sit up straight. Now he just grumbled.
"Walking would have been so much easier," He said to himself, under his breath.
Celephel followed them, but she began to lag behind, eventually riding beside Boromir. They exchanged nervous smiles, then returned to silence.
"Son of Denethor, how is it that you are here? Have you not enough adventure in Gondor?" She finally said. Her hand moved to smooth out her beige and green rider's clothing.
"Blood and death is tiring over the days," He responded, sitting up a little straighter, "And you, an elven lady, a traveler, and a scout? How dies this happen?"
Celephel sighed, "Many years. I have had many chances to pass through the Gray Havens, but I fear that will never pass to the other side. Too many things remain unresolved."
"Such as?" Boromir winced as she looked at him with a slightly surprised look.
"A prophecy was told over me, saying that I would go though the Havens after my true love had been found and lost," She shook her head, "I am baring my soul to you, Boromir, son of Gondor, as no elven woman has ever done to a human man. I hope you will keep our talk private."
"I shall," He nodded and spurred his horse, "Come, the stand is not far, and the patrol gains ground quickly." Celephel looked around the fields and saw the unwary patrol approaching steadily.
Suddenly, as soon as her eye had spied a figure on the top of the tower, she was flying through the air. A painful force caught her in the side and threw her off her horse.
All the other horse went wild. Boromir tried to calm his steed down, but to no avail. He barely caught a glimpse of Celephel before she was caught under the wild hooves of Gimli's horse.
"No!" He pushed himself off of his horse. He threw his shield in front of him, forcing Gimli's frightened horse to move away. He knelt over Celephel, his shield up for protection.
The others quickly abandoned their horses, fearing for their own lives. The steeds ran as if mad, disappearing far into the forests.
Boromir leaned over Celephel and sighed in relief when he saw that the horse's hoof had caught her only on the side of the head. She was quickly reviving.
While Boromir attended the woman elf, Aragorn and Haldir tried to make out the uppermost level of the Isengard tower. With his elven eyes, Haldir was able to confirm that Saruman, indeed, stood there, his staff ready and his eyes locked on them.
"He knows we are here. And he knows why we come," Haldir said softly, "I see also another figure, standing tall on his right side."
"What does it mean?" Aragorn asked himself out loud.
"I fear that Legolas Greenleaf has betrayed us," The elven guard shook his head, "But I shall not believe it. Not unless you command the return to Lothlórien."
"No, we will go on, and rescue him," Aragorn picked up his fallen baggage, which he had barely been able to loosen from his horse's saddle, "If Saruman has cast a spell on his mind, then I will break that spell."
By that time, Celephel and Gimli, who had been tossed from his horse, were on their feet and eager to be on their way. Haldir led them all to the stand of trees, where there stood a small ruin.
"The Isengard watchtower," Celephel murmured, "I remember when its height was unrivaled in all of Middle Earth."
"No more, my lady," Gimli grumbled, "It has long since fallen under the ravages of Saruman and his Uruk-Hai."
The dwarf fairly spit the last few words from his mouth as he followed the quiet Haldir around the ruins. He led them all to a small trap door, whose wooden lid had long since rotted.
"The secret passage! Haldir, we cannot take this way!" Celephel cried upon seeing the brand burnt into the stone above the man-sized abyss, "It will take us into the center of his dungeons."
"Is that not where Legolas will be?" Boromir asked, hefting his shield on his back.
"If luck is with him, then, no, he would be in the prison with no walls, the very highest tier of Isengard, where Gandalf himself was held," She shrank back from the trapdoor, "If he stands at the end of this tunnel, then all we have done is for naught."
"We have no choice," Haldir reasoned, "From the dungeons we can find our way to the tier. You know your way around Isengard, Celephel. You were there before Saruman ever was."
"This I know, but my heart still dreads the path I must take," She held back quietly as the others descended the stone steps before her. Boromir was the last to enter the blackness.
When she hesitated, he ascended the steps to the half point, "Come, my lady, the way is safe."
Aragorn watched him take the hand of the elven woman and lead her carefully down the stairs. He sighed, "Boromir does not know, or does not want to know, that the Lady Celephel is perhaps ten times his age."
"The Lady has always had a childlike heart, for in her mind, she has never really grown old," Haldir responded quietly, "She may hold the same age as Lord Celeborn, but her mind is like that of the hobbits, innocent, yet sharp when it is required."
"I also fear that he will fall in love with her," Aragorn used a flint and stone to light a torch on the side of the tunnel. However, it was old, rotten wood, and burnt dimly.
"He may, at least," Haldir pulled a new torch from his pack and lit it so it burnt brightly. From behind them, a white glow illuminated the way more brightly, as it was a magic glow from a crystal in Celephel's palm.
They walked in silence for the next few minutes, the dim, bright, and magical glows mingling with the darkness and waltzing with the shadows. Soon, the stone turned to dirt, then back to stone again after a few more moments.
Suddenly, the magical glow of Celephel's crystal was doused in a brilliant explosion of light. Her muted cry of surprise was quickly replaced by a groan of disbelief.
"He knows which path we have chosen," Aragorn said quietly, waving the torch around the tunnel. His fist lashed out and smashed a small scrying crystal that was inlaid in the wall.
Haldir handed his torch over to Boromir then withdrew his bow and arrows. The rest unsheathed their swords. Celephel took the torch from Boromir so his hands would be free.
They advanced quickly and quietly, unwilling to lag, and soon came to another badly rotted trapdoor.
Celephel shook her head, "From this point on, I shall go no further."
"What? You are the only one of us who has been inside Isengard before," Aragorn turned, almost angrily, "You cannot stay behind."
"I can stay and I will," She stood adamantly, the torch in her hand flaring momentarily.
Boromir looked from Aragorn to the elf, and back, "You are holding us back." He walked over to her and snatched the torch from her hand. Then, to the mixed responses of horror and amusement, he swept her up over his shoulder.
After he carried her up the trapdoor stairs after Aragorn, she still struggled, but to a lesser extent. Once her booted foot had caught Boromir in the stomach, he was forced to put her down.
She pulled back her fist and caught him full in the chin, "The next time any of you so much as touches me, I promise, I will kill you."
"Since you have made it this far, my lady, you might as well accompany us to the end," Boromir rubbed his jaw, "Or shall we fight more?"
Celephel grumbled something unintelligible in Elvish and took her torch from Boromir. She began to lead them through the black, dank passageways with a curious glance to either side.
She paused for a second at a shattered door.
"What is it?" Aragorn demanded.
"That marking is familiar," She mumbled, tracing the evil carving, "It says, 'Here the Treerunner rests.' Strange."
They continued on their way, never stopping until they came to a dead end. Celephel quickly opened a secret passage and everyone ducked out of sight.
"Beyond now, I am of no use," Celephel crossed her arms.
Aragorn continued further down the passage until they came to a long, thin opening that was just wide enough for them to see down. They were looking into the throne room of Saruman.
There was no one there.
"They are above, on the tower top," Haldir said, "I see no—"
One pair of doors exploded open. Legolas, the elven prince of Mirkwood, picked himself painfully off the floor. Saruman shook his head pityingly.
"I fear that you will be no more sport than the other so-called royal elf," Saruman gritted his teeth and sent Legolas back to the wall, "She lasted seven years in my torture chambers."
Gimli was on the verge of growling an angry retort when Haldir slapped a hand over his mouth. The dwarf glared angrily, but didn't struggle.
Saruman continued taunting the elven prince, who simply stood there. No emotion showed on his fair face. This enraged Saruman even more. He intensified the beatings.
Eventually, Legolas was lying on the floor of the throne room, blood pooling around his head and his eyes closed.
Saruman growled angrily and stalked out of the room.
Haldir was the first to squeeze through the viewing window. Aragorn followed, but Boromir and Gimli were two stocky to fit through. Celephel led them quickly away, trying to find a different route to the throne room.
Haldir and Aragorn climbed carefully down to the throne room floor. Legolas was nearly dead…
"And I trap two more flies in my web—" Saruman stepped out of his hiding place. Uruk-Hai burst in the doors around them. Celephel, Boromir, and Gimli burst in the door, unwittingly giving them the surprise they needed.
Legolas was on his feet in an instant, his arm wrapped around Saruman's throat.
It was a stand-off.
By Lothlórien
Legolas dove under the Uruk-Hai's blade, wishing fervently that he had his bow, or long-knives. But they had been taken by surprise, and his weapons lay forgotten under the body of four dead Uruk-Hai.
All that he could use to defend himself was the single long-knife that Haldir had spared him.
At first, he had cursed himself for being caught off guard. His light blue tunic and light pants were not suitable for fighting the terrible Uruk-Hai. At least his boots didn't betray his step.
Now, he wondered if they were still within the boundaries of the Golden Wood. If there were Uruk-Hai in Lothlórien, it boded evil for the elves and the Fellowship.
Of the other elves, he stood alone with his long-knife. The others shot arrows and bowstrings sang while the prince of Mirkwood fought with a blade.
"Haldir!" Legolas saw the Uruk-Hai snatch the elf's wrist. The menacing creature threw the fair guard against a tree, effectively knocking the bow from his numbed fingers.
Legolas' long-knife flew through the air, catching the attacking Uruk-Hai in the throat. But now he was defenseless.
Haldir struggled to his feet, "Back to the boundary! We must have left the Wood early! Back all!"
Legolas quickly noted who was here. They were all there, save for…they were missing one, and none had been killed in the attack. Where was the fifth of their group?
"Help me!" The cry came from an elf, cornered against a thrice group of Uruk-Hai. He was not frightened, but he called for any help that might come. Legolas turned to help, snatching up his fallen long-knife.
The first of the Uruk-Hai spun and threw his own plank-like sword at the would-be rescuer. Legolas threw his blade at the same time, planning to strike the orc-like demon and still have time to dodge the sword.
The two blades met. The thickness of the Uruk-Hai sword prevented it from being cleaved, but the fine elven metal of Haldir's long-knife split a large notch in the side.
"Legolas, no!" Haldir cried after him, afraid for what might happen to the prince while under his care.
The fair elf paid no heed. Even as the two enmeshed blades fell to the ground, he had snatched up an elven bow and two arrows, one Uruk-Hai, and one elven.
The cornered elf cried out in pain as a heavy fist came down on his shoulder. He was able to snatch up his own bow, though he had no arrows. Legolas shot at two attackers.
"Go!"
The elf headed his command and ran, disappearing quickly into the trees, after Haldir and the others. Legolas turned to follow.
Then a familiar, unearthly scream tore the already spoiled morning air. A Black Rider stepped down from his demon steed, his sword in hand. He spoke, and his voice was foul and evil.
"Prince of Mirkwood," He hissed, pulling his sword back, ready to strike, "Isengard awaits you."
"What would Saruman want with me?" Legolas demanded, "You do not serve him."
"Aaaaaiiiiiiiii!" The Black Rider screamed, but the attack didn't come from the Nazgûl or his horse. The forgotten Uruk-Hai survivor, one in number, took up a fallen elven bow and shot the same arrow that Legolas had used to kill one of his companions.
The Mirkwood prince's cry of pain cut off the Black Rider's screech. Legolas' face contorted in agony as the straight and true elven arrow pierced his back. As he fell to his knees, the Black Rider shimmered.
It was Saruman.
"You don't think that I would not know where your pitiful group would go to hide?" The white robed man taunted, his staff glittering in the dim, filtered light, "I am not senile, like that idiot, Gandalf."
Legolas meant not to answer, so he stayed his tongue. All that he did was clutch his chest tightly, in an effort to halt the pain, and keep his eyes on the ground, away from Saruman's.
"You are coming with me, friend elf," Saruman taunted, "For I am in need of your services."
Legolas' cry of pain as the arrow was torn out of his back echoed through the trees.
"Lord Celeborn! Lady Galadriel!" The elf whose life Legolas had saved, named Ceresin, ran into the council chamber where the Lord, Lady, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli were speaking of their belated return.
"Ceresin, what has happened?" Celeborn demanded, standing.
Lady Galadriel stood as well, her lips parting in alarm, "He has been taken from us, to Isengard."
"My lady," Ceresin bowed, "Haldir has returned in order to find him, but told me to return to you."
"Go and rest, Ceresin, have your wounds treated," Celeborn dismissed him, then turned to Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli. Aragorn stood.
"We must retrieve him," He stated, leaning on his fist, "The Quest must be delayed."
"Aragorn, what would Saruman want with the elf?" Boromir asked, tapping his fingers on the white marble council table.
"What is running through your mind, Son of Gondor?" Gimli inquired of him, readjusting his short, muscular build to look at the warrior, "Do you know something that we do not?"
"No, I was merely wondering," Boromir leaned back, folding his hands in his lap.
Galadriel spoke, interrupting them with her musical Noldorin voice.
"Saruman would have many a motive for capturing the Son of Thranduil," She sat back in her chair, "One of which reasons could possibly be a trap for the elves of Mirkwood."
"What would that gain him?" Aragorn asked, glancing at Boromir.
"If he moved south to join Sauron in Mordor, he would have the armies of Mirkwood to contend with at his back," Galadriel sighed. Her voice was shaky, "If he took Legolas and convinced his father to stay his armies for fear of his death, he would be free to enter Mordor and march straight to Barad-Dûr."
This revelation was driven straight to the hearts of all those present. Gimli grunted and tapped a thick finger on the table. He seemed to be thinking hard.
"What in blazes were Uruk-Hai doing in Lothlorien?" He suddenly slammed his fist on the table, "And what was the elf doing away from the rest of the Fellowship anyway?"
"Legolas confided in me a few days ago," Celeborn returned to seat as well, "We are kin, and he felt it necessary to speak to me of his longing for home. I offered a chance to ride to the edge of Lothlorien and back with a small group of elves at his side."
"He was homesick?" Aragorn seemed surprised, "Why did he not speak to us of this?"
"Of that I do not know," Celeborn shook his head, "Before he left, I felt that he would be in danger if he left, but I had already begun to see the wear of stagnancy that had begun to affect his heart. He had never been one to rest when there was work to be done."
"I also asked him to go," Galadriel shook her head, "He needed to ride, for his own sake. I gave him a small pendant to wear in case of need. He must not have remembered it, for I did not feel its call."
"So there would be a way to find him…when we enter Isengard?" Boromir stated, not meeting the surprised gazes of Aragorn and Gimli. They had noticed his use of the word, 'when.'
"Yes," She stated simply, "But you must hurry, if you plan to rescue him in sound body. I fear for his spirit, as well as his physical body. I felt the pain he received at the end of the elven arrow."
"So he could be dying now," Aragorn stated grimly, "And we are here, speaking. Words will not save my friend, only action."
"Then go you must, with a pair of elven guards to accompany you," Celeborn stood quietly and made his way to one of the elegant windows, "When he returns, Haldir will accompany you, as well as one whom I would trust with my life."
"And who would that be, Lord Celeborn?" Boromir seemed uneasy about this whole adventure, and did not jump to volunteer anything or anyone.
"Celephel, an elf woman who had traveled to whole of Middle Earth and is as old as I," Celeborn sighed, "She is of my close kin and would lead you wherever you wanted to go."
"Gah, she wouldn't survive a minute in Moria," Gimli stood and clomped over to Aragorn's side.
"She has been in Moria, only once, for that was when the Orcs attacked Balin and his colony," A strange voice, one that bespoke of experience, yet childlike personality, wafted through the room as an elven woman followed a tired Haldir through the door.
"Celephel," Celeborn greeted his kin with a gentle hand-touch.
"My Lord Celeborn," She nodded, "Moria is a black place, and I never wish to go there again, even if Mithrandir has destroyed the Balrog."
At the mention of Gandalf's elven name, the faces of all present fell.
"Haldir, news of the attack," Celeborn prompted the troubled elf.
"I have recovered Legolas' bow and long-knives," He held the weapons in his arms, "The stink of evil magic is accompanied by the smell of elven blood."
Galadriel sucked in a breath, and Celephel, her light robes rustling like the leaves, stood by her side. They seemed to exchange a silent conversation.
"I will take you to Isengard," Celephel nodded, her face troubled, "Though that place is evil and I do not enjoy the chance of seeing the tower again. Memories of that place are black."
"Come in, Merry, Pippin," Celeborn called. The two hobbits trudged in, embarrassed at being caught, but Pippin's face brightened when he saw Celephel.
"Oh, hello again," He said cheerily.
"Peregrin," She nodded.
"You know each other?" Boromir finally snapped out of his admiring trance. The Lady Celephel had fascinated him.
"Celephel helped me out of a jam a few years back, when Merry and I were—um, visiting Farmer Maggot," Pippin shrugged, "I never really though t that I'd see her again."
Celeborn turned a disapproving eye to Celephel, who turned red, if such a thing were possible. Gimli broke out into booming laughter.
"I would wager that I am the first dwarf to ever see an elf blush to the tip of her ears!" He laughed, and Boromir barely caught himself about to do the same.
"We must set out tonight," Aragorn said grimly, "The hobbits will stay here."
"What?" Merry and Pippin cried at once. They didn't want to be left behind anywhere, even in Lothlórien.
"Young ones, come here," Galadriel beckoned them to approach her seat. As she proceeded to tell them what had happened, Merry's face turned dark with thought and Pippin's grew white with dismay.
Merry spoke first, after Galadriel had finished.
"We will stay," Pippin stared as if Merry had just told him that they were never going to eat again.
"What?"
"Frodo needs us here," He bit his lip and looked at Aragorn, "He needs to stay here, and if we don't stay too, he'll worry. Sam, too."
Pippin sighed and headed towards the door, "Then I don't want to hear any more. Or else I'll have to tie myself up in order to keep myself here."
Merry quickly bid Aragorn and the others goodbye and followed his cousin. A great quiet fell over the room.
Gimli stood quietly beside Aragorn, while Boromir sat, perturbed. Celephel and Haldir held their own quiet council in the corner of the room.
Celeborn spoke up, "You will need to leave as soon as possible, tomorrow morning at the latest. I fear for my kin's life."
"Tomorrow morning it is," Aragorn nodded, agreeing with the Elven Lord's assessment, "I will tell Frodo."
"Aha! Orc hunting!" Gimli roared happily.
Legolas sat quietly in the corner of the cave cell, his wrists and ankles raw and bleeding from the chafing shackles. There was really no where to go for him, and he knew it all too well.
The injury in his back had turned a fiery red and swelled. Saruman had treated it as well as he had wanted to, leaving him with pain at every breath.
His tunic had been torn and stained by the blood of the arrow. Past that, the light blue elven material was bright, standing as dim beacon in the darkness of the cell.
He sighed, then held his breath, waiting for the fire to ebb in his wound. Through this, the son of Thranduil showed no emotion in his face, or his eyes, only in his mind, which was racing with thoughts.
It has been only a short while, He reasoned, They will not mount a search until the morning, even if they know where I am, it will take them at least until then.
With these comforting thoughts, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The pain attacked once again, leaving him with closed eyes. He dreaded what the wizard Saruman might do, to him, to his friends, to the Fellowship…
"Legolas!" The taunting call of Saruman sickened him, "Come."
The cell door opened, though there was no one there to open it. Legolas, unable to control his own legs, stood and walked through the cell door. He came face to face with Saruman in his throne room before he was under his own control again.
"What do you want with me?" Legolas asked, each word sending burning, tingling pain through his back and lungs.
"I want you to serve me," Saruman said bluntly.
Legolas looked at him, concerned at his words.
"As a true prince of power, not only as a prince of a forest," Saruman smiled grandfatherly, "You would serve me, lead my armies, and then, if I pass on, you would become my heir."
"Why are you offering this to me, an elf?" Legolas demanded, "Why not entice a Man, or Dwarf? Why me?"
"Because you are the one that I can use to destroy the Fellowship," Saruman suddenly turned serious and easily angered, "Through your servitude, I will destroy them. Through your death, I will destroy them."
Legolas looked away. He would not betray his friends.
"Your answer then?" Before Legolas could say anything, the wound in his back became fresh again, the agony of the arrow wound pouring through his body once again. His lack of a cry of pain angered Saruman.
"I will give you the same choice that I gave Gandalf," He snarled, "I hope that you will be smarter than that old fool."
Legolas clutched his chest, and his palm closed over the small pendant that the Lady Galadriel had given him before he left on his ride. He remembered it as being small, made of ornately woven silver.
"Hah!" Saruman's staff swung, and Legolas was thrown against the wall. His cry of surprise and pain brought a smile to the evil wizard's face.
Another swing and Legolas was slammed into the floor. He couldn't stand this much longer…
Legolas tried to rise, but he fell back to the cold ground, his elfin cheek pressed against the black stone. Across the floor, hidden in the corner, was the tiny body of a dead moth.
Suddenly, the elven prince was back in the dungeons of Isengard, though not in his cell. Chains around his wrists and ankles held him between two pillars. Slimy, slobbering orcs glanced at him, licking their lips in anticipation of a taste of elven flesh.
In front of him, across the arena-like room, stood Saruman, holding his staff in one hand, and a delicately balanced dagger in the other. His fingers traced the elegant engravings on the blade.
"This is the dagger that took the life of Isildur's general, at the skirmish where Isildur himself was slain," Saruman dropped the dagger almost casually, but his powers held it suspended in the air.
The blade flew through the air.
Legolas barely moved when the blade hit him. His face was solid and he was unwilling to reveal the pain that he felt both in his physical body and his emotional heart.
The cursed metal had struck him hard in the right side, opening his side. Blood poured down his leg and pooled on the floor.
For the next few hours, Legolas withstood as much of the beatings as he could. Only once did his legs fail him, when the blade came almost too close to his throat.
Eventually, Saruman became wearied with his sport and left the room. The orcs had long since gathered to watch the torture. Now, they murmured among themselves, disappointed that there would be no more torment for the elf.
Legolas just existed, barely able to breathe. He knew that the oldest wound, the one in his back, opened into his lung. Saruman had purposely avoided healing the arrow gouge, keeping the elf short of breath at all times.
The other blade wounds had been aimed to incapacitate him as much as possible. His right leg was useless, as was his left arm. Even if he did escape the shackles and chains, he would be totally unable to creep past the gates without being seen, or, more disturbingly, smelt.
Why does he want me here? Legolas forced thoughts through a pain fogged mind, He doesn't want to offer me riches or power. He wants to trap Aragorn and the others.
And he would die before he allowed any preventable harm to come against the Fellowship. He would give up his life for any of them, even Pippin or Gimli.
He groaned softly and raised himself up to a standing position. His leg protested painfully, but he bit back the pain. If only he could reach the pendant…
The chains held his wrists too far away. That wouldn't work. Somehow, he had to break the tiny vial inside the silver weavings.
When the orcs began to twitter again and Saruman re-entered the room, he knew that he would have to try again later.
"Celephel, Haldir, what do you see?" Aragorn asked, holding the reigns to his horse steady.
"I see a group of ten Uruk-Hai approaching us from the left, where we should be heading," Haldir stated. They had been forced to weave around the orc patrols for all morning.
"That stand of trees should give us ample protection," Celephel said, gesturing to a nearby group of large trees. Off to the far left, the tower of Isengard stood, black and foreboding.
"Then that is where we shall go," Aragorn spurred on his horse. Gimli, who was the only one of the group that couldn't ride, had been forced to hold tightly to his horse's neck until he felt like he could sit up straight. Now he just grumbled.
"Walking would have been so much easier," He said to himself, under his breath.
Celephel followed them, but she began to lag behind, eventually riding beside Boromir. They exchanged nervous smiles, then returned to silence.
"Son of Denethor, how is it that you are here? Have you not enough adventure in Gondor?" She finally said. Her hand moved to smooth out her beige and green rider's clothing.
"Blood and death is tiring over the days," He responded, sitting up a little straighter, "And you, an elven lady, a traveler, and a scout? How dies this happen?"
Celephel sighed, "Many years. I have had many chances to pass through the Gray Havens, but I fear that will never pass to the other side. Too many things remain unresolved."
"Such as?" Boromir winced as she looked at him with a slightly surprised look.
"A prophecy was told over me, saying that I would go though the Havens after my true love had been found and lost," She shook her head, "I am baring my soul to you, Boromir, son of Gondor, as no elven woman has ever done to a human man. I hope you will keep our talk private."
"I shall," He nodded and spurred his horse, "Come, the stand is not far, and the patrol gains ground quickly." Celephel looked around the fields and saw the unwary patrol approaching steadily.
Suddenly, as soon as her eye had spied a figure on the top of the tower, she was flying through the air. A painful force caught her in the side and threw her off her horse.
All the other horse went wild. Boromir tried to calm his steed down, but to no avail. He barely caught a glimpse of Celephel before she was caught under the wild hooves of Gimli's horse.
"No!" He pushed himself off of his horse. He threw his shield in front of him, forcing Gimli's frightened horse to move away. He knelt over Celephel, his shield up for protection.
The others quickly abandoned their horses, fearing for their own lives. The steeds ran as if mad, disappearing far into the forests.
Boromir leaned over Celephel and sighed in relief when he saw that the horse's hoof had caught her only on the side of the head. She was quickly reviving.
While Boromir attended the woman elf, Aragorn and Haldir tried to make out the uppermost level of the Isengard tower. With his elven eyes, Haldir was able to confirm that Saruman, indeed, stood there, his staff ready and his eyes locked on them.
"He knows we are here. And he knows why we come," Haldir said softly, "I see also another figure, standing tall on his right side."
"What does it mean?" Aragorn asked himself out loud.
"I fear that Legolas Greenleaf has betrayed us," The elven guard shook his head, "But I shall not believe it. Not unless you command the return to Lothlórien."
"No, we will go on, and rescue him," Aragorn picked up his fallen baggage, which he had barely been able to loosen from his horse's saddle, "If Saruman has cast a spell on his mind, then I will break that spell."
By that time, Celephel and Gimli, who had been tossed from his horse, were on their feet and eager to be on their way. Haldir led them all to the stand of trees, where there stood a small ruin.
"The Isengard watchtower," Celephel murmured, "I remember when its height was unrivaled in all of Middle Earth."
"No more, my lady," Gimli grumbled, "It has long since fallen under the ravages of Saruman and his Uruk-Hai."
The dwarf fairly spit the last few words from his mouth as he followed the quiet Haldir around the ruins. He led them all to a small trap door, whose wooden lid had long since rotted.
"The secret passage! Haldir, we cannot take this way!" Celephel cried upon seeing the brand burnt into the stone above the man-sized abyss, "It will take us into the center of his dungeons."
"Is that not where Legolas will be?" Boromir asked, hefting his shield on his back.
"If luck is with him, then, no, he would be in the prison with no walls, the very highest tier of Isengard, where Gandalf himself was held," She shrank back from the trapdoor, "If he stands at the end of this tunnel, then all we have done is for naught."
"We have no choice," Haldir reasoned, "From the dungeons we can find our way to the tier. You know your way around Isengard, Celephel. You were there before Saruman ever was."
"This I know, but my heart still dreads the path I must take," She held back quietly as the others descended the stone steps before her. Boromir was the last to enter the blackness.
When she hesitated, he ascended the steps to the half point, "Come, my lady, the way is safe."
Aragorn watched him take the hand of the elven woman and lead her carefully down the stairs. He sighed, "Boromir does not know, or does not want to know, that the Lady Celephel is perhaps ten times his age."
"The Lady has always had a childlike heart, for in her mind, she has never really grown old," Haldir responded quietly, "She may hold the same age as Lord Celeborn, but her mind is like that of the hobbits, innocent, yet sharp when it is required."
"I also fear that he will fall in love with her," Aragorn used a flint and stone to light a torch on the side of the tunnel. However, it was old, rotten wood, and burnt dimly.
"He may, at least," Haldir pulled a new torch from his pack and lit it so it burnt brightly. From behind them, a white glow illuminated the way more brightly, as it was a magic glow from a crystal in Celephel's palm.
They walked in silence for the next few minutes, the dim, bright, and magical glows mingling with the darkness and waltzing with the shadows. Soon, the stone turned to dirt, then back to stone again after a few more moments.
Suddenly, the magical glow of Celephel's crystal was doused in a brilliant explosion of light. Her muted cry of surprise was quickly replaced by a groan of disbelief.
"He knows which path we have chosen," Aragorn said quietly, waving the torch around the tunnel. His fist lashed out and smashed a small scrying crystal that was inlaid in the wall.
Haldir handed his torch over to Boromir then withdrew his bow and arrows. The rest unsheathed their swords. Celephel took the torch from Boromir so his hands would be free.
They advanced quickly and quietly, unwilling to lag, and soon came to another badly rotted trapdoor.
Celephel shook her head, "From this point on, I shall go no further."
"What? You are the only one of us who has been inside Isengard before," Aragorn turned, almost angrily, "You cannot stay behind."
"I can stay and I will," She stood adamantly, the torch in her hand flaring momentarily.
Boromir looked from Aragorn to the elf, and back, "You are holding us back." He walked over to her and snatched the torch from her hand. Then, to the mixed responses of horror and amusement, he swept her up over his shoulder.
After he carried her up the trapdoor stairs after Aragorn, she still struggled, but to a lesser extent. Once her booted foot had caught Boromir in the stomach, he was forced to put her down.
She pulled back her fist and caught him full in the chin, "The next time any of you so much as touches me, I promise, I will kill you."
"Since you have made it this far, my lady, you might as well accompany us to the end," Boromir rubbed his jaw, "Or shall we fight more?"
Celephel grumbled something unintelligible in Elvish and took her torch from Boromir. She began to lead them through the black, dank passageways with a curious glance to either side.
She paused for a second at a shattered door.
"What is it?" Aragorn demanded.
"That marking is familiar," She mumbled, tracing the evil carving, "It says, 'Here the Treerunner rests.' Strange."
They continued on their way, never stopping until they came to a dead end. Celephel quickly opened a secret passage and everyone ducked out of sight.
"Beyond now, I am of no use," Celephel crossed her arms.
Aragorn continued further down the passage until they came to a long, thin opening that was just wide enough for them to see down. They were looking into the throne room of Saruman.
There was no one there.
"They are above, on the tower top," Haldir said, "I see no—"
One pair of doors exploded open. Legolas, the elven prince of Mirkwood, picked himself painfully off the floor. Saruman shook his head pityingly.
"I fear that you will be no more sport than the other so-called royal elf," Saruman gritted his teeth and sent Legolas back to the wall, "She lasted seven years in my torture chambers."
Gimli was on the verge of growling an angry retort when Haldir slapped a hand over his mouth. The dwarf glared angrily, but didn't struggle.
Saruman continued taunting the elven prince, who simply stood there. No emotion showed on his fair face. This enraged Saruman even more. He intensified the beatings.
Eventually, Legolas was lying on the floor of the throne room, blood pooling around his head and his eyes closed.
Saruman growled angrily and stalked out of the room.
Haldir was the first to squeeze through the viewing window. Aragorn followed, but Boromir and Gimli were two stocky to fit through. Celephel led them quickly away, trying to find a different route to the throne room.
Haldir and Aragorn climbed carefully down to the throne room floor. Legolas was nearly dead…
"And I trap two more flies in my web—" Saruman stepped out of his hiding place. Uruk-Hai burst in the doors around them. Celephel, Boromir, and Gimli burst in the door, unwittingly giving them the surprise they needed.
Legolas was on his feet in an instant, his arm wrapped around Saruman's throat.
It was a stand-off.
