Author's notes: Some of you may know me as the girl who tortures Nsync relentlessly. Well…I have found someone new to mess with. This is just some pointless Legolas torture. I got the idea from a website challenge. Basically the ring falls into someone's hands and is NOT destroyed. So I ran with it. It was fun. Legolas torture is just as good as I thought it would be. Sorry about the ending, I know it sucks.

And All Hope Fled

Things were not supposed to have turned out this way.

The ring was supposed to have been destroyed.

Evil was supposed to fall and goodness was supposed to prevail. That is how things should have happened.

And yet they didn't.

They didn't, because sometimes fate and destiny go awry and cheat all involved out of their expected happy ending.

And so it was when Grima Wormtongue put on the one ring that fate and destiny were turned on their heads and all hope fled middle-earth.

It began with King Theoden – this withering of good. Grima had him executed on the very first day that he claimed power. He showed the king none of the mercy that he had been shown not so long ago.

Aragorn was next – because Aragorn was the most dangerous, the strongest, the one who could unite all of middle-earth against him. So it was that the man who would be king became a prisoner in the deep dank cells of Orthanc, sentenced to spend the remainder of his days in the scuttling dark.

Then came Eowyn. The woman whom Grima desired more than any other on middle-earth. She became his wife, although she fought and struggled every step of the way to the altar. She cursed his name as he placed the wedding ring on her finger and she cursed his name as he took her in their bridal chamber.

Yet she was completely silent as she ran the knife blade along her wrists on one cold winter's night. She was silent as death came and took her, and she welcomed it, because it freed her from her hated husband at long last.

And now – now it was time for the elf and the dwarf to face Grima's judgement. For he had captured them both as they tried to rally armies to bring him down. They were branded as traitors and quickly brought to Orthanc.

They had been summarily tortured, in hopes of finding out where the fledgling rebellion's encampments were, but neither of them had talked. They had screamed yes, but they uttered not one word of betrayal.

Then one day Grima had them brought before him. Both were weary, their pale faces lined with pain, yet they still held their heads high. Despite the ropes that bound them, they still managed to walk with dignity.

They were made to kneel on the ground, to show respect for their false king. Grima stared at them, relishing the sight of two heroes brought so low. After a time he began to speak.

"I have been going about this all wrong," he said, his voice no more than a sibilant hiss. "I understand that now. You are warriors, both of you, and as such, you, while not immune to pain, are at least accustomed to it." He paused then, as if marshalling his thoughts. Legolas and Gimli dared to exchange a quick, questioning glance.

"But you are not without your weaknesses," he continued. "I see that now. And it was so very obvious, I wonder how I could have missed it before."

Another glance passed between the elf and the dwarf. What did this madman mean to say? What could he possibly be planning?

Grima continued. "It is obvious that you care for each other. Care…perhaps even love. It is nothing to you to be tortured; pain is a constant companion for beings such as yourselves. And you would rather be dead than betray your cause. But I think I am correct in guessing that you might not be able to bear so easily seeing your comrade in pain."

A stricken look passed across Legolas' face and he turned towards Gimli. Gimli's face matched his own – a mask of fear and disbelief.

Grima smiled at seeing their reactions, for they were exactly the ones he had been hoping for. "We shall begin with you, my fair prince. Yes, I believe that I would like to begin with you."

They were taken down to the torture chambers where blood decorated the stone floors and despair was pungent in the air. Legolas was taken to the center of the room and the rope that bound his wrists together was looped around a hook that hung down from the ceiling. Gimli was tied to a stone chair directly in front of his friend, where he would be certain to miss nothing.

"Pay attention, dwarf," Grima said as he stepped aside to let his men do their work.

The lashings came first. Lashings with a whip that felt more like steel than anything else. Legolas made no sound at all but his body twisted and strained to get away from the sting of them. After the first few lashings, Grima decided that he would rather enjoy tormenting the elf himself. But Grima was not a very strong man –even with the strength of the one ring on his side – and he began to tire after bestowing a mere 35 lashes.

He set the whip down and inspected the elf's back. It looked completely torn apart and blood ran down its length freely. The elf himself was panting harshly, as if he could simply not suck in enough breath to sustain himself.

Grima walked to the elf's side and held his chin in one bony hand. Legolas looked at him with a mixture of contempt and disgust that nearly burned Grima with its intensity. He turned away from that gaze and faced Gimli.

"You can stop this. All you have to do is tell me where your armies are and I will put an end to your friend's suffering."

Gimli merely stared at him. If looks could kill, Grima would have been stricken dead on the spot.

Grima abruptly released the prince's chin. "Fine. We move on then. We shall try hot pokers next."

Legolas' eyes widened, as did Gimli's, but neither of them said a word. And so it was that Grima's men came to Legolas, the ends of their steel pokers burning brightly in the gloom of the chamber. The pain of the first one, which was set against his shoulder, Legolas was able to bear silently. But the second one, which was applied to his already injured back, caused a terrible scream to tear loose from his throat. The next few landed over his body indiscriminately, each one seemingly more painful than the last.

Gimli tried in vain to cover his ears against the sound of his friend in agony, but of course he could not move. So instead he closed his eyes, no longer able to bear the sight before him.

But Grima walked behind him and grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled back fiercely. Grima bent down low next to the dwarf's right ear and whispered, "You do your friend a great injustice to close your eyes to his pain. You are abandoning him."

And of course the evil snake was right. He was abandoning his friend as surely as if he had stood up and simply walked out on him. He opened his eyes and fixed them on Legolas, and found to his amazement that his friend was looking at him steadily. Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Gimli felt a renewed sense of strength and he nodded proudly at his friend.

Grima straightened and walked away from Gimli, placing his attention on Legolas. It was to him that he spoke. "Well, do you wish to speak and end this?"

Legolas' body trembled from cold and pain but his gaze was steady. He spoke slowly and deliberately, as if to make certain that his words were understood. "I would rather endure a thousand nights of this than to betray our people."

"That is as I thought," Grima said, seemingly unperturbed by the answer. "And you dwarf? Will you talk to me now and spare your oh-so-dear friend this torment?"

Instead of answering, Gimli spat at the wicked man's feet.

Grima scowled. "Stubborn! Why must you be so stubborn?" He gestured for one of his men to come to him. The man did and Grima leaned towards him, speaking in a low tone.

The man listened for a moment, then nodded and turned away. He walked over to the other men and for a moment they all blocked Gimli's view of Legolas. Then they separated and Gimli could see his friend again, although he wished desperately that he could not. For the men were once again holding the hot pokers to Legolas' skin, letting the burning embers destroy his flesh and bore holes into his body. When the heat was extinguished, they took the pokers and used them as blunt instruments. They pounded them against the elf's stomach, his back, his legs, his groin…

The elf had no choice but to scream. The pain was everywhere, all consuming, and it never seemed to stop. There was no respite, no brief moment given to him so that he could collect himself and gather his strength. His screams continued as bones were broken, as flesh was charred. After awhile, the strength of his screams began to weaken and his body slumped in its bonds, his head lolling forward on his chest.

It was at this moment that Gimli began to believe that they would kill Legolas; brutally kill him while he did nothing but watch. "Wait, stop!" cried the dwarf.

Legolas lifted his head slightly, his eyes bleary with pain. With great effort he focused on his friend, who was struggling to rise from his chair.

"I will tell you what you want to know. Just stop! Just please show some mercy and stop!"

Grima turned towards him, a smile of benevolence on his face. "Of course dwarf. Tell me what I want to know and this all stops."

Gimli was about to open his mouth but Legolas spoke first. "Don't you dare, Gimli!" he gasped hoarsely. "Don't you dare shame me in that manner!"

"Legolas, I only wish to end your torment. I cannot bear to see this!" Gimli cried.

"Then do not look," Legolas said simply. "Do not look."

"Legolas, I must…I would be abandoning you if I turned away," he said, unconsciously echoing Grima's earlier statement.

"No!" Legolas said sharply. Then his features relaxed and a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "I know you are with me, my friend."

Gimli took a moment to stare at the elf, gazing so intently at him, still so fair and pure after all that had been done to him. Then he blinked, and lifting his eyes to their tormenter, said, "I have changed my mind."

Grima uttered a low growl of anger that quickly rose to a deafening screech. "Accursed elf!" he shouted as he picked up one of the discarded pokers. He swung it with all his might against the face of the prince, quite pleased with himself when he saw that he had most likely broken both the elf's cheek and jaw.

Blood flowed freely from Legolas' mouth and he weakly spit some out before he could gag on it.

For some reason this gruesome display seemed to sate Grima's anger and he stepped slowly away from the scene. He took a deep breath and softly said, "Continue please."

And continue they did. For what seemed like hours upon hours, although it could not have possibly been so long. And just when Gimli thought that it would never end, and that Legolas' body would simply stop fighting and that his soul would pass from this world…it did stop.

The rope around the hook in the ceiling was cut and Legolas hit the floor hard. Gimli struggled to get to get to his friend, to offer him some comfort after all that he had been through. He looked up at Grima who seemed to be smiling at him. "Please," he said, not caring that he was begging.

Grima stared at him as if thinking. Then he gave a brisk nod. "I will give you a few minutes."

He nodded to his men and they moved forward and undid the ropes that bound Gimli to the chair. He immediately dropped down to the floor beside his friend and gathered him in his arms, being especially careful not to jar any broken bones or further damage any wounds.

"It's all right, laddie," he said softly. "You'll be just fine in no time."

Legolas coughed weakly and a thin stream of blood oozed from his mouth. "I feel better already," he said. With his damaged jaw, the words were almost unintelligible, but Gimli somehow understood them perfectly. And despite their situation, the dwarf found himself chuckling.

"We certainly showed him, didn't we?" Gimli asked.

Legolas smiled and nodded slightly, then shuddered as a wave of pain crashed through his body.

Gimli gently brushed some of Legolas' golden hair away from his sweat-streaked face. 'Still beautiful' he thought. He was still so beautiful and noble. Nothing that this monster did would ever take that away from him. "Sleep now, Master Elf. Sleep and put those wonderful, elven healing powers of yours to work."

"Yes Gimli," Legolas managed to whisper before finally giving in to unconsciousness.

Gimli leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his friend's forehead. As he pulled away, a snickering sound from behind him let him know that they were not alone. He turned his head to find that Grima was standing at the entrance to the torture chamber.

"How touching. Really, truly touching," he said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "I should be thanking you dwarf. You and the elf have provided me with much entertainment tonight. And to think…this is only the beginning."

Before Gimli could respond, Grima spoke again. "Rest up dwarf. For tomorrow it is your turn."