Chapter 2

A Trail to Nail

"Wait!" Elaine screams as Belshazzar swings the blade, but halts mid-air.

"What now?" he inquires in an irritated tone, rolling his dark eyes at her.

"You can't cut them off, or else he might die from blood loss," she tries to reason, yet he looks rather indignant.

"He might make to much noise like the last one," she adds.

"Fine! I'll make sure he can't escape though," Belshazzar huffs, grabbing Legolas's right arm and roughly slitting his wrist as Elaine holds the elf's kicking legs. Blood gushes out, spilling onto the leaves and dirt of the forest floor where Legolas stares, the world spinning from the blow to his head. The potent swoon causes him to go limp, yet he remains fully awake and he twitches his fingers to make sure he still possesses them.

The enraged Uruk Hai bends low, his knife poised to strike the elf's left leg, but as he thrusts it at him, Legolas rolls over. Belshazzar blade plunges into the back of the prince's right thigh, puncturing deeply and he cries out in pain, doing it solely to alert Gimli, if it's not too late already. "Curse you, elf!" the Uruk spits on his golden hair, and withdraws the knife mercilessly.

"Was that necessary?" Elaine crosses her arms, leaning her back against a tree.

"Well, do you expect him to stay put?" Belshazzar snarls, sheathing his knife and lifting the prostrate form over his shoulder, while Legolas groans, the blood gushing out of both wounds.

"Hang on. I don't want him dying," Elaine says and tears a strip of black cloth from the fringe of her; then wraps one around the elf's wrist and the other around his leg.


"Where did you see him last?" Aragorn inquires, quite concerned at the dwarf's ill tidings.

"I believe twas over by the black waters in Mirkwood," Gimli responds, stroking his beard with one hand while fingering his ax with the other nervously in the cave.

"Could he have perhaps fallen in?"

"No, highly unlikely. I discovered his horse lying injured by a separate pool of red blood. I found carrion there, from an orc as well as black blood."

At the emphasis on the word orc Aragorn looks up with increased concern from having been staring at a beetle scuttling on the cave floor. "I shall send my men to search for him. Show me the place." He speaks to his escort and the man hastily departs, to fetch a search party and the duo of human and dwarf leave to find their friend.


"That ought to do it. We'll be right back to report for duty, so keep an eye on him," Belshazzar says, stalking out of the straw hut they brought their captive in with Elaine trailing behind.

Legolas is bound to a post with both arms wrapped around it, his bare back exposed for any sort of cruelty there is. The orc watching him jeers at the elf, prodding his bloody thigh with the hilt of his scimitar. Legolas flinches, but prevents any other hints of pain from coming forth so as not feed on the sadistic part of the foul creature. "Tough little elf, aren't you?" Girsh sneers, lightly touching his bloody leg.

Ironic. You're calling me little and you're a good deal shorter, Legolas muses, attempting to stave off the hot pain, futilely. "If you want a ransom from my father you can forget it. He'll have you and your friends' heads hanging all bloody in front of the gate," he spits out in a seething tone.

"We'll string your useless body up first!" Girsh screeches, smacking the back of his captive's head. He glances down at the tunic on the floor and mutters something about how they could sell it; then shoves a finger up Legolas's wound. "Stubborn elf," the foul being mumbles and delivers a heavy blow to his head.

After five minutes of beating had gone by the door bursts open, revealing a taller, and larger Uruk Hai than Belshazzar, as well as quite a few orc guards outside that pour in the hut like ants spotting a sweet apple slice. Girsh backs away from Legolas's limp form, quailing in terror. "Did you forget who is the commander, or did you merely fail to report?" the leader snarls in a menacing voice.

The small orc gets on both knees, trembling before him. "Master…p-p-please f-for-forgive m-me!"

"You dared challenge my authority, and now you expect me to grant you to keep your miserable life, you worm?" the leader snarls and draws his scimitar. He drives it right through the orc's throat before anyone can move and sheaths his blade like he had done many times. No one was surprised in the slightest, not even Legolas, who knew what had taken place. What else is to be presumed from a vile being as those?

The Uruk Hai walks around the pole and grabs the elf's chin, pulling his head up to face him eye to eye. The leader licks his ghastly, blood stained lips-goodness knows where it came from, and spits on his graceful face. "The prince of Mirkwood eh?" he scoffs, making the elf's blood boil.

"What do you want?" Legolas demands, summoning up what little strength he still possesses.

"We don't need a ransom, all we want is to hang your dead body in front of your Father, to make him pay for what he did. Of course, we need you to look mangled up enough to show him you suffered greatly beforehand."