Estranged Blood

by ElnaKernor

It is a secret, but Thranduil and his wife Aeweryn didn't have one son, but quintuplets. The only thing being that four never lived in their elven bodies. They came to life in a distant future, as mortals. Until the day, mere weeks before Aragorn brings Gollum to Mirkwood, when Legolas is taken by orcs, and the impossible happens. Legolas, Will, Brian, Balian and Paris in the quest

2. Pleased and unpleasant

Blood! Blood everywhere! Nyahahahaha!
Oh, excuse me.
There it is, chapter two. Everyone get to Middle-Earth. I'm warning you, there will be a few chapters before catching up with the fellowship.

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Chapter 2: Pleased and unpleasant

TA 3017, November

Greenwood the Great

The forest

Legolas shot down an orc, and another, and another. Orc, goblin, warg, goblin, warg, orc, goblin. An arrow in the forehead, another in the eye. Evade, knife, strike, kill, aim, back away, to the side, strike, aim, kill.

There were too many attackers for it to be a mere coincidence. This many orcs didn't come into Mirkwood out of their own free will. They feared the spiders as much as they were wary of the silvan elves of the Woodland Realm.

Both might not have been serving the same side in the war between the free people of Arda and Sauron, but both were still content enough to kill intruding orcs. The elves, because orcs were one of Morgoth's abominations, and they reminded them of what the fallen Vala had done to their people. And because orcs had no claim about killing elves, of course. Spiders because, well, it wasn't often they got something to eat that wasn't a lost hare, for elves were difficult to capture, and orcs were tasty, or at least, so the spiders thought. Loyalty wasn't exactly what motivated them in the war, and anyway they helped Sauron only because he had promised them food. They were Shelob's children, after all. Not some servants of the Dark Lord. Even if they had to admit they didn't want to be on his bad side.

Anyway, the point was, orcs rarely came into Eryn Galen without a good reason, and that many orcs surely hadn't come to admire the view.

Legolas ducked an attack from behind and spun on his left heel, gutting the offending attacker with two swift moves of his knives.

The elf glanced at the members of the patrol, and was relieved to see everyone still standing.

He had come with the warriors to keep his mind away from his father's mood swings. He guessed he had done well, because considering the numbers of invaders, one more fighter could do no harm.

A warg, and how in Valinor had the orcs managed to get the beasts into the forest, he had no idea, but they were still there so he'd better take care of it, jumped to his throat, but the Elvenprince of Mirkwood swang his bow into the side of the giant wolf, efficiently sending it in a spiderweb.

He had come back from his travels only two months before, and already he wished to go back on the roads, with Aragorn perhaps, or alone if the ranger wasn't to pass by the Woodland Realm before soon. His father had grown worse over the years, and Legolas simply couldn't take it anymore. Even battling orcs and other monsters was a better prospect than to spend more than one hour with Thranduil, when the said Elvenking wasn't shut down in his secret cave.

Sometimes, the prince had the feeling his father could hardly look him in the eyes these days.

Legolas grabbed a branch above him and pulled himself up. His body followed and the elf found himself upside down, hands on the branch, feet in the air. He fell back. But on the other side of the branch, and right onto the skull of an orc who had come after him. For once he wished he wasn't as light, and weighted as much as a man, for it'd have creaked the monster's head open. But he didn't, and so he had to split said head open with his knife.

A threatening hiss caught his attention, and Legolas looked around, alarmed that spiders might have joined the ranks of the orcs and goblins.

His eyes traveled to his fellow fighters, and he knew he had been played.

They were busy fighting off spiders, sure.

But they weren't the ones in immediate danger. Or, as much as not being in immediate danger was possible when in a fight with wargs, goblins, orcs and spiders.

Legolas almost flew backward as he shot three arrows in a row. Two spiders backed away, and two orcs fell to the ground. He'd have been content with himself, if he had had the time to think about it. After all, he had just got the orcs with only one arrow, that stuck out of one's eye on a side, and of the other's mouth on the other side. Not unusual per se, because it did happen that he got two enemies with one shot, but good enough, yet. But as much as he liked to do prowess in battle, the elf aso knew it wasn't a good thing to gloat during the battle itself. He stored the memory with many others of the same kind, to remember later on, when there wouldn't be dozens of enemies around.

But that wasn't the point of his observations.

The point was, that the warriors had been drifted away from him, and Legolas was certain it wasn't only bad luck. More likely, the monsters had singled him out for some reason, and they were after him, not really caring about the other elves. It wasn't very hard to figure out which reason could have gotten him the honor of being the day's victim.

He was Legolas Greenleaf, yes. He was a good fidghter, and a foe of Sauron's servants in general. But more than that, he was Legolas Thranduilion, prince of Greenwood the Great.

Orcs and their like weren't known to be great tacticians or particularly clever in the use of their prisoners. To be one could mean only two things: either the unfortunate soul would soon face the worst ordeals, or someone frightening enough that the orcs were obeying them was behind it all.

And since Legolas was apparently their target of choice, it wasn't just to enjoy torturing one elf or another that the abominations were trying to make him prisoner.

Unless they had been ordered to just plainly kill him. It was a possibility, too.

But in the end, it meant only one thing: dead or alive, they were after him, and him alone.

The Elvenprince fought with renewed ardor as soon as he realized that.

Legolas heard two goblins trying to surprise him by stricking him from behind. He turned around, severing a warg's head with both his knives as he did so. His right leg flew to one of the goblins' throat, and the monster finished his life by colliding roughly with one of Mirkwood's trees. His neck had been completely crushed by the kick.

This was one of the reasons the elf had chosen bow and knives as his weapons. It allowed him to do about anything he could think of with his body, whereas a sword was very good and all, but he always found it lacked freedom.

The other goblin looked at his opponent, stunned for an instant, before he snarled angrily and tried to go with his sword for the leg that was holding his fellow plunderer's body against a trunk. Legolas, having just freed his knives from the warg's carcass, swang one to the goblin's head as he brought his leg down, preceding the monster's sword by seconds only. The goblin fell to the ground as the blade left his brain.

Before Legolas even got the time to turn around, a warg who had lost its rider attacked him. The elf kept the beast at bay, but failed to notice the overly large spider that slipped down its thread just above his head.

The hiss gave it away.

Too late, though.

Legolas felt a stinging pain in his back.

Then he felt nothing.

The Elvenprince fell to the ground. His face was waxen, and the fabric from his coat was torn were the spider's sting had gotten him.

Two orcs came closer, wary, to make sure he was truly out. One of them tried to hit him on the head, just to make sure, but the other angrily clicked his tongue to the idiot.

"He said not to damage the elf beyond what was necessary. Meaning, beside fighting wounds, nothing is allowed. Do you want to end up as one of his experiments?"

The other orc grunted something that could vaguey pass for an answer. The first one rolled his eyes.

"'Thought so. Now, come on, we have to take him back to the lair and do what Sharkû said."

Both orcs managed to lift the Elvenprince without further endangering his life, which, given the number of sharp or / and pointy things they had on them, was quite a feet, and they disappeared in the dark of the forest, unnoticed by the patrol guards still fighting a few dozens of feet away.

When the elves finally got rid of the last warg, they took a few seconds to rest before attending to the wounded and checking that everyone was accounted for.

There were no deaths this time either, but they knew it still happened more and more often. It was only the first half of November, and this month already counted two dead amongst their ranks. It wasn't a lot, given the whole of Arda's situation, but they were elves. Where they lost two lives, the race of Men lost ten of them, and as did the dwarves. The beornings were still another matter, but even for them, it was still some four or five lives lost.

The patrol's captain sighed heavily as one of his elves took care of the gash on his forearm.

"I wish Tauriel was still here... She was a good captain."

"Don't worry, you are good at this too. And she might be dead, for all we know. No one has seen her in decades, now."

The elf who had answered this and the captain turned their heads to look at their prince, fearing they had brought up unwanted memories. It wasn't a secret that Legolas Tranduilion's heart had started to warm up for the read-headed captain only a couple of decades before she herself had felt the pull of love, for a dwarf, no less, and not for the said prince. The dwarf had died, Tauriel had left Mirkwood for an undefinite time, and no one had seen her since.

Some said it was for the best. Both the prince's and the former captain's loves hadn't had the time to become too strong, too deep. They would both still be able to love someone else, if it came to it. It hadn't reached that stage, in elven love, when one was wasted for anyone else beside their loved one. And the Elvenking wouldn't have taken too well to his son's wedding a nando. He would have relented, in the end, because there was nothing like elven love, but he wouldn't have liked it any better. Thranduil was a sinda, and no matter what his son said, Legolas Greenleaf was one too.

At least, the captain and the guard tried to look at their prince.

They didn't quite achieve that.

Because the prince wasn't with them.

In fact, he was nowhere to be seen.

At first, no one believed it. The Elvenprince was such a good fighter it was always an event when he was wounded during battle. After the battle for Erebor, it had been said one of Azog's offsprings had managed to make him bleed. At first, everybody had thought it ridiculous. One single orc? Then the prince had left Mirkwood, and they hadn't had confirmation it had happened until much later.

Panic started to rise amongst the patrol. They didn't know if they were supposed to feel better or worse that they didn't find their prince amongst the dead orcs, spiders and wargs, since that also meant that he was alive, but there was a high probability that he had been taken away.

When it became obvious it was what had happened, after all, what were the odds that the Elvenprince had just gone on a walk without warning anyone after an attack?, the patrol captain paled drastically and ordered someone to go warn the king while they started tracking down the orcs.

The orcs' lair

When Legolas woke up from his unconsciousness, the first thing he saw wasn't actually a thing. Everything was pitch black.

He soon noticed he felt strangely heavy, slowed down, as if he had just taken a sleeping potion as the one the healers made for the heavily wounded warriors. Himself, he had had one only twice in his one thousand eight hundred and ninety years of life. But he knew the feeling. It wasn't exactly that... but it was still the same kind of feeling.

Legolas took a deep breath, and regretted it. The air was foul.

Yrch.

He tried to sit up, but his hands and feet were tied, and he didn't have a very good control of his body. The spider's sting, of which he was suddenly reminded by the cold air against his skin where his coat had been torn apart, and by the pain of the wound, still incapacitated him, it seemed.

Well.

At least he was alive, he tried to think positively. It was hard, given he knew what could be done to prisoners, and even harder since he knew he had been taken with a particular purpose, even if he didn't know what purpose exactly. Knowing that once he wouldn't be useful anymore to the orcs, nothing guaranteed he would even by killed quickly wasn't helping either. Knowing that being useful could only mean causing someone else's fall was the worst, of course.

Before him where two possilities: being useful, and dying an awful death, or refusing to do / answer / whatever they wanted of him and spending an eternity as an orcs' torture toy, as long as he'd refuse.

Legolas resigned himself to an eternity of torture, hoping that at least, what they wanted of him was something he could refuse. If it was just about showing him around to anger his father, there was nothing he would be able to do about it, and it would still affect Mirkwood and those he cared for.

The Elvenprince forced himself to breath, in and out, and to relax, despite the situation. Being tensed would be a good thing if he could actually use his limbs as he wanted. It wasn't the case.

Legolas looked around, as his eyes adapted to the darkness of the place he was in. It seemed it was underground, in some sort of lair that the orcs had built under a great oak, if the roots he could distinguish were anything to go by. The room was circular, large enough, with a ground of beaten earth and walls supported by a wooden structure. So far as he could see, he was alone. The feint glow that escaped his skin in the dark helped a bit, he had to say.

He guessed this was a hiding spot just outside the Woodland Realm, for when orcs couldn't do otherwise but to go trough Mirkwood.

If he ever got out of here, he'd have to talk about it to his father, who would destroy the orc-built place with great pleasure.

Voices could be heard, somewhere behind he door he could make out with difficulty in the dark. Legolas tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling the orcs' voices were creating in him, and listened intently. They were speaking in Westron, so they were probably not from the same tribes. Another hint that they were working for someone.

"Wait, are you actually saying there will be not only one of him, but two?"

This made no sense to the elf, and to the sound of the orc's voice, it didn't make any sense either to the monster. How could there be two of one person?

"If you had listened when Sharkû told us our orders, you'd know that's exactly what it implied. Two of him, if not more. We could not be lucky, and have to try several times before getting the right one."

"I listened. Only, I didn't understand a word he was saying."

"That's because you're an idiot. Now, shut up. We have work to do."

Legolas inwardly thought that yes, the orc was an idiot if he wasn't even able to understand something another orc could understand. But who was this "Sharkû"?

A door creaked open, and the light of a torch blinded the elf for an instant. When he could see again, two orcs were standing over him. They weren't pleasant to look at, that was saying the least. The taller one had greyish skin, yellow eyes and half his face looked like burned ham. The smaller one was scrawny, and his orange eyes were way too large for his head. Then again, they were orcs, so it was to be expected.

The smaller one smiled evily, and Legolas somehow knew on the spot he was the one who had understood the order. His guess was soon confirmed, when the monster started talking.

"See that? Our princeling has woken up! I hope he took a good nap, because we're going to make him very tired. Now, make him sit up, you oaf."

The other one, apparently used to the insults, just obeyed, yanking Legolas up.

"Like that?"

The smaller one rolled his huge orange eyes.

"Yes, like that. How else would you want him to sit up? Nevermind, you're too stupid. Now, princeling, it will certainly hurt, but this is for your own good, so don't fight me off."

The orc smirked, apparently very pleased with his brand of humor.

The taller one, on the other hand, didn't seem to understand the joke, and stupidly asked how this was going to be good for the elf's health, and why they were doing him this favor, seeing as he was an enemy and all. Legolas almost rolled his eyes as the other orc did exactly that, snapping at the same time.

"Of course it isn't. I'm taunting him, but you're ruining it! So shut up, and don't ask questions."

Then the orc looked back at the elf, and showed him what looked like a dagger with three black diamonds on its handle. It looked way too much like a morgul craft for Legolas to admire it.

"Now, I don't know why you are special, princeling, it it would appear you're not just some elf. The Witch King himself came to our master and asked for you to be delivered to Mordor unscathed."

At that, the taller orc whined.

"Yeah, and we had to walk all the way from..."

"Shut up, he doesn't need to know that. What was I saying? Oh right. Mostly unscathed, because before getting you to the Great Eye, we have to do something that might not be pleasant for you. The Witch King gave our master this beauty, and said we'd have to trace some runs with your blood. It's some kind of magical tool, you know, and apparently it will open some sort of link between you and another person, a man he said, but an immortal one, as strange as it may seem. It will bring him here, with maybe a few other people as a side effect, and apparently his coming will trigger something good for the Great Eye."

Legolas tried to remain composed, but this was insane. First, Sauron wanted him, especially, and second, he was needed for something that would benefit the Dark Lord? Then, there was the matter of an immortal man that would be linked to him in some way...

His upper lip twitched a bit, but the orc was too busy coveting the black dagger to notice.

After a time, the orc looked back at Legolas and went on talking again. Apparently, he liked the sound of his own voice. The elf couldn't understand why, though, because it was mostly an unnerving, creaking sound. Still, he wasn't going to complain. At least, he got some information thanks to the orc's flaw.

"Of course, our master asked in what it would benefit him, to work for the Great Eye. The Witch King offered him the dagger, and the man's heart to experiment on."

Legolas felt a shiver ran down his spine as the orc cackled madly. Whoever this man was, he was going to be pulled into this orcs' lair and killed by the taking of his heart because of him and their link.

"The Witch King also warned our master that when we'd try to summon the immortal man here, it might end up bringing other 'you' before he comes. Oh, yes, I forget about that: it seems the link there is between you two is because you are the same person, only in different times / worlds / whatever. Well, he also talked about brothers, but it was strange, and he didn't seem to mean it as in 'by blood', so your guess is as good as mine; I'd say 'ours', but this idiot who's keeping you sat up is, unmistakably, an idiot, so his guess doesn't count. And you know what? The other 'you' that aren't the immortal man or yourself, and the people we might drag in without meaning it, we get the right to keep them for dinner!"

That was it, the elf wanted to trow up, now. He had no idea how this was possible, what exactly it all meant, but there were a lot of people that would die today because he hadn't been able to defend himself properly.

Being eaten by orcs... One of the worst nightmares that were.

This time, the orc had finished talking. The taller one, on the other hand, had a question to ask.

"Just, how will we know which one is the immortal one, Guruck? I mean, even the immortals can be killed, unless they are... them, you know. And we can't wait for years to see which one is the one that doesn't age. Can we?"

For once, the smaller orc didn't snap at his fellow monster.

No, he smiled brightly, and Legolas got the best view of his rotten teeth and black tongue.

"That's the best part, Kirch! When they'll get transported here, each of the 'other' princelings will do so with a distinctive sign. And the one we search for, he'll appear with a great dread and a feeling of death. Fitting, isn't it, for an immortal whose fate is to have his heart ripped out?"

And the monster burst out laughing madly.

The forest

An elven guard crouched down, unsure of what he had seen. He broke the spider web that was hindering his sight, and called for his captain.

"See, they got rid of the prince's weapons on the way."

What had caught his eye had been a glint of light on the Elvenprince's knives.

Not far away from his position, another elf called out. He had found their prince's bow.

"Strange... Usually, they keep everything that can be used as a weapon for themselves... Though, knowing Legolas, he'd be able to get them back and free himself if his weapons were anywhere near him, so I guess they did well... That is, well for them, not for the prince or us... I don't want to go back to the Halls... I'm so dead..."

After a while, the guards had stopped listening to their captain's mumbling. If he wanted to give them orders, he'd do it speaking normally. No one needed a reminder that they were going to suffer the Elvenking's wrath if they didn't get his son back. They were content enough that they hadn't been the one to take the piece of news to the Halls.

They had finally spotted a track that seemed to have been used both way, in and out of the part of Mirkwood that was the Woodland Realm, and there was no mistaking that it was a fresh path made by orcs. The smell was enough of a tell-tale.

Finding the Elvenprince's weapons was another.

They went on searching, until they found what looked like a little clearing where the sun peered through the lack of trees. The captain made everyone stop with a single and silent gesture.

He squinted.

He had a better sight than any mortal, being an elf, he could see miles and miles ahead when the view wasn't blocked by anything, true. But there were always things that came in the way. A trunk behind which someone can hide. The trap that is a mirror. Or, in this case, the limit between shadow and light.

But the captain was certain of what he had seen. That is, he was certain he had seen something, and the something looked much like an orc. It could have been a dead trunk with a strange form, that looked like an orc.

Or not.

There, standing just before the light, in the shadows, was an orc. An orc, who wasn't moving much. As in, alive, but standing guard of something. In fact, the monster certainly seemed to be a sentry.

"If there is a sentry..."

A red-haired ellon next to the captain finished his sentence in his stead.

"Then there is something to guard. Do we kill him and go on searching?"

"No. We walk in between light and shadow, as he does, and we take him in silence. I'm sure a bit of persuasion will lead him to talk to us about where they took our prince."

There was something grim on the captain's face as he said these words, and no one asked what he meant by persuasion.

Soon enough, two elves had reached the lone sentry by their right, while two others had done so by their left. Hiding behind the trees, they waited for the signal.

The remaining guards of the patrol walked in the light of the clearing, the captain in the front. The four elves that had gone first saw the sentry's eyes widen, and him turn around, surely ready to run in silence and warn his company of the coming of the patrol before the guards could see him.

Too bad for him, he had already been seen.

Before the orc even got to make one step, two arrows flew to each of his ankles from both his right and left. He let out a strangled cry as he fell down on his face. When he tried to get back up, his hands reaching to the arrows stinking out of his marred flesh, two elves were there, one keeping him to the ground, the other putting a blade against his throat.

"One sound, orch, one scream, and this sword pierce your hide just enough for it to be a painful death by exsanguination."

The monster didn't even bother answering, fearing it to count as one sound even if it wasn't a scream.

The elven captain crouched on his heels next to the guards' victim. Still, he wasn't looking at him, but rather at the blade that was already nicking his grey skin.

"You and your comrades, or maybe it is you or your comrades, I don't care much, have entered our land and taken away our prince. Now there is only one punishment for such a hostile behavior, and that is death. But you still have a choice: either you tell us where Legolas Thranduilion has been taken to, and possibly why, and I give you a quick, painless death, or you refuse to cooperate, and we'll take you to see Thranduil Oropherion. And I can assure you that if anything happens to his son, the Elvenking will find a way to make you suffer enough that you'll call for your master."

The elf's steely gaze had followed the blade to the orc's neck as he talked, and the captain was now looking at his prisoner's face.

Elves could be frightening to the common mortal because of the instant change they could bring in their behavior. A joyful elf was as innocent as a child, but when they became serious, it was impossible to read their faces if they didn't want anyone to. During times of war, the mortals only saw this side of the elves, and to them, it looked like they weren't made of feelings like men or dwarves.

To an orc, it was frightening, because they had no idea about how their enemies kept such a cold exterior. Orcs were creatures of anger and hatred. The more cruel and ruthless they were, the more they were feared. But elves, most of the time, didn't react.

Of course, since they were being of wrath and blood lust, no orc stayed long stricken by the fear they felt. Usually, anger took over in a matter of seconds.

This orc couldn't, because if he even tried to open his mouth and insult his captors, the sword would cut his throat open.

He didn't like the idea of pain when it was applied to him, and not him applying it to others. He'd rather cooperate, if that kept him away from the Elvenking. He was no fool. He knew the stories, and he knew that Thranduil Oropherion wasn't one to anger too much.

Of course, he didn't like the idea of death when it was applied to him, and not him being the one applying it, either. But there was no chance he'd get out of this, and since he had to choose between a painless and a painful death...

"We were ordered to capture him as soon as we'd get an opportunity. I don't know why, but it seems the Great Eye wants him especially. Guruck is our chief, he's the one who knows. They've taken him to the lair. It's a hidden tunnel under an old oak, some three miles ahead. You'll have to deal with a sentry every mile, more or less. Now, your word."

The captain arched an eyebrow at the orc, as if to judge whether or not the monster was truly thinking he would go back on it. He was an elf, not an orc.

"I keep my word. A quick, painless death."

And he gestured to the guard who held the sword to the orc's throat. The ellon withdrew his weapon, only to swiftly cut off the monster's head.

The guards all looked at their captain, waiting for his orders.

"Very well. We go. If we have to deal with the sentries and to find where exactly that oak is, it might take us an hour. We can't lose more time. Let's only hope we haven't lost too much time already."

The orcs' lair

Legolas bit back a scream that tasted of blood as the tip of the dagger entered his skin once again.

He had bitten his tongue the first time the weapon had cut him, for the blade was definitely morgul-made. He didn't know what it was exactly, but it hurt a lot. Each time the orc started carving a rune in his flesh, the elf felt as if he was being branded with hot iron. If he was certain of one thing, it was that he wouldn't ever really heal from those.

It could have been worse, though. Instead of elven runes with elven meanings, it could have been Black Speech. The Elvenprince of Greenwood the Great, walking around with seared Black Speech formulas on the back of his hands, his forearms, and his heart! Legolas didn't fancy wearing gloves and long sleeves all year around, and he would never have dared to sail to Valinor in this state.

That is, considering that he'd get free, somehow.

The pain called him back to his desperate situation. He was bleeding mildly from the first fours ets of runes, and the one that was presently being made was the one on his torso, above his heart. His coat and shirt were lying on the ground, three feet away from him.

This rune was, he hoped, the last one.

But more importantly, he hoped the orc had done something wrong, that it wouldn't work, and that no one else than himself would have to suffer in this room. It was possible, after all. Trusting an orc to trace elven runes, it was like giving the monster a baby to take in his arms and hope he would still be alive one hour later.

But Guruck seemed pleased with himself, when he took one step back to admire his work, swinging the black dagger left and right absent-mindedly. Legolas hoped he would end up stabbing himself with it, even if it was a foolish hope.

"Isn't it better, Kirch? Don't you think the princeling looks much better covered in blood? No, don't answer, I don't want to hear your voice. Now, you chain him to the wall, and you let go. I can't say for sure how the 'others' will appear, and it might be better if we just stay out of the way."

Legolas glimpsed the taller of the two orcs reaching for some dark form hanging from the nearest wall, and he guessed these were the chains the smaller one had talked about. Soon, he was chained, back against the wall, and almost unable to move.

After ten long seconds, Kirch turned to Guruck.

"And now?"

The smaller orc shot an annoyed glance to his idiot of a comrade, who continued to look dumbly at him. Kirch apparently had no idea how strongly he was annoying his chief.

"Now we wait."

Kirch squinted, apparently thinking hard.

"What do we wait for?"

Guruck rolled his orange eyes before answering.

"For it to begin, stupid oaf. Shut up."

They waited another ten seconds, and Legolas began to hope, that, maybe, it really hadn't wor...

His back arched all on its own, and the prince felt his muscles contract one after another, as if they had decided, without informing him beforehand, that they would try to rip the chains out of the walls now. He felt hot beyond what was tolerable even for an elf. He started sweating, which was not something elves did.

Then the pain disappeared from his limbs, only to muster into the freshly made and cauterized wounds on his skin. The burned tissue that had formed quickly once the dagger had been removed burst open, and blood started to flow again, this time creating a pool at his feet.

The orcs were watching, fascinated, as the elf bled out on the lair's ground.

At one point, Legolas couldn't even look up anymore, as his strength escaped his body. His chin fell on his torso, and his eyes fell on the small pool of blood.

The bleeding receded until the wounds closed on their own once again.

The scarlet pool was perfectly round.

Guruck told the taller orc to stay behind, and walked closer, until he could dip the edge of the dagger in the blood. Legolas' eyes traveled up the blade, as did the blood, to what would have been his utter astonishement if he hadn't felt weak and nauseous. The red liquid was going up on its own.

The elf somehow managed to raise his head a bit, and he looked for a long time at the dagger. Now that he could have a good look at it, all drenched in his blood...

There was something...

Something familiar...

Guruck took one step back, and sliced the air between him and Legolas.

The Elvenprince closed his eyes and felt disgustingly warm drops of his own blood splattering his face. When he opened them again, the air where the black dagger had been swung looked somewhat distorted, and crimsonish.

"As soon as someone appear, Kirch, you get his hands and tie him up."

The taller orc only had the time to nod before a dark scarlet flash occulted everything in the already dark room. It was as if, even though the torches were still alight, their light couldn't go through the red mist.

At the same time, a dozen of animals' screams resonated in the underground room. Squirrel, horse, eagle, but also something that sounded like a cat's purr, but was much louder, and the sound of an olyphant, for exemple.

It only lasted an instant.

And then Legolas heard a loud sound, but he couldn't see anything.

It took a whole minute for the scarlet mist, that wasn't actually a mist, since it had no materiality, but still looked like one, to dissipate.

Eventually, the elf distinguished the form of a man on whom the orc had pratically jumped, and another form, surely one of those "side effects", that seemed to be of the race of men too, though...

"Que vient-il de se passer? Où sommes-nous? Balian, es-tu là?"

A woman. There was no mistaking that voice for a man's, even if Legolas couldn't understand a word of what she was asking, besides the fact that she was obviously asking something and seemed completely lost. Figure. He'd be too, if he was transported from one place to another without an explanation or a warning.

The man grunted in pain. Guruck, who had prudently stayed away while the other orc had wrestled the unknown man to the ground, grabbed the woman and threatened her with a knife so that she'd keep quiet. Soon, she was hands and feet tied, and indignantly glaring at the pair of monsters before her. Legolas wondered if she had never seen an orc, to react like that, or if she was simply brave, because even to someone who would know nothing of orcs, Kirch and Guruck looked bad enough to at least make anyone hesitate to glare at them. If anything, she seemed to have enough sense not to ask any more questions. It would irk the orcs, and irked orcs weren't good for tied up people.

A dull sound took the elf's attention back to the man with an orc in top of him, that wasn't actually on top of the man anymore, Kirch having somehow managed to tie the man up too.

Guruck came to the two, and the elf could do nothing but to watch as the orc grabbed the man's dark hair and pulled his head up.

"Not the right one, that's sure, this wasn't a feeling of death. But look at him!"

The orc grinned a pestiferous smile at the elf chained before Kirch, the man and himself. Balian's eyes took on a shocked look as soon as he saw the state of the one who seemed to be another prisoner of the place, however he and Sibylla had ended up here all of a sudden.

There was literally a pool of blood on the floor, and the person looked so exhausted the only reason he wasn't falling forward was that the chains were almost tearing him apart.

The being, that to Balian looked like a demon would, holding his hair, and the one that had almost broken his back by falling upon him as soon as he had somehow appeared in this... cave, weren't reassuring either.

"There surely is a family likeness!"

And the orc went back to cackling madly. But the Elvenprince wasn't paying him any attention.

Legolas' eyes widened as he took in the looks of the man.

They looked so much alike they could have been brothers, if he had been a man and not an elf, or the other way around, and if they hadn't had different hair and eyes colors.

And in a strange, incomprehensible way, the orc's words rang a bell somewhere in the elf's mind, as if, in fact, he truly felt that he had to be the man's brother, even if it made no sense at all.

Guruck tossed the man aside, next to the woman who glared at him twice more fiercely than before. From his position, and tired as he was, Legolas couldn't see, or, more accurately, notice, anything else.

Balian, on the other hand, was perfectly fine, though a bit shocked at the events and tied up with his wife. He watched in horror as he saw a black blade in the demonic being's hand, being soaked in blood and waved around, splashing some red life liquid on the blond person's head as he did so, and creating some kind of crimson distortion in the air.

The blacksmith shared a look with his wife, and hardly noticed she was once again in her lady garb, when they had both been back to a simple life in France only minutes before.

Once again, the room went suddenly without light, and they could all hear distinctly a bowstring snapping three times. When the darkness disappeared, Balian, Legolas, Sibylla and the two orcs were looking at three people who seemed completely confused too. The two french people guessed what had happened to them was exactly what had happened to the three that stood there...

And who were immediately grabbed by the two orcs.

Legolas felt despair invade his heart. Were all these people going to die because of him? How many more to come, still? How many people had he condemned to death, when he had failed to defend himself?

Kirch quickly restrained the older man, who, to his surprise, only looked at him as if he was assessing the danger he represented, and not moving away in fear or disgust. Guruck grabbed both of the young ones' wrists, waiting for his idiot subordinate to come and tie them up too. They didn't seem to be great fighters, even if the young man who shared the two others' face had a bow, and what looked like some kind of armor on. The young woman, if anything, seemed terrified and completely unable to defend herself.

Paris tried to shake the thing who had taken a hold of him off as soon as he saw the terror on his sister's face, and the way she had started to mumble under her breath.

"Let my sister be, you monster! Cassandra, calm down, nothing bad will happen, you'll see."

No one besides the three new people in the room understood a word of what had just been said, but Sibylla frowned. These garbs, and this language... Were these people greek, perhaps? But why did the young man look so much like her husband?

"Still not the good one. Don't care, the more tries it takes, the more we get to eat!"

It was only because of her education as a princess that the former Queen of Jerusalem only paled. She had spent the last months with english people, as they were trying to claim back Jerusalem, and even if her accent wasn't perfect, she could understand what was said without difficulty. She had no idea what that demon was, but she thought it'd be better if she pretended she didn't understand. Keeping things out of the enemy's knowledge was something that often benefited a prisoner.

If she could get an opening, or give someone else one... Maybe they could escape what seemed to be their fate, now that they were trapped with those two beings.

Sibylla's calculating eyes didn't escape Odysseus' attention. The Greek had no idea how he had ended up here with a prince and a princess of Troy, when he had been on his ship only minutes before, heading back to Ithaca. But he was far from being a fool, and knew very well that they were in danger. Not only him, not only the two children of Priam, but all of them, except the two that looked like they were right out of Hades' Tartarus. These two were the danger.

And even if Odysseus couldn't speak their language, the way the woman with colorful clothing had paled told him she did, and it wasn't good.

As if the person chained to the wall and bleeding here and there from strange brands burned into his flesh hadn't been enough of a hint.

Odysseus watched in calm and silence, working on his ties, with little success he had to admit.

The richly clothed woman and the man who surprisingly looked like an older version of the prince Paris had matching rings, but didn't look much alike. The reasons for such rings could be that they were from the same family, or had created their own family. He guessed they were husband and wife.

As for the trojan prince, he was busy staring at his lookalike, who himself looked warily at the two beings, as if waiting for something to happen.

Cassandra of Troy looked about to break down, and Odysseus remembered how it had been said she had predicted the fall of her city... and no one had listened to her. With Aeolus as a grandfather and Hermes as a great-grandfather, Odysseus could hardly say there was no truth in the reality of the gods. Maybe the young woman had been gifted.

If it was truly the case, he'd better watch out. She seemed so shaken she could very well be seeing a particularly grim future for all of them.

Before he got to think about it in more details, the Ithacan saw the smaller of the two beings dip a black and ominous dagger into the blood at the blond's feet, and swing it in the air, causing it to become darker, reddish, and definitely magically altered.

Well, now he had a theory as to how they had ended up here, even if he still had no idea why.

Everything went dark once again, but the sound that was heard next made Legolas' blood freeze. There was the noise of crackling fire... and a powerful dragon's roar.

Everybody stilled in the darkness as they heard it, and not only the elf who was the only one who had ever seen and heard a living dragon. Kirch and Guruck tightened their grip on their weapon, just in case this time's "side effect" happened to have scales and to breath fire.

But when the light claimed its rights to lit the room back, there was only a man standing in front of the chained elf, and not even one "side effect". Seeing that, the orcs rushed to him, and as if to make him pay their fright, Guruck twisted both of the man's arms while the taller orc came with yet another rope.

"Still not the right one. But look, Kirch, this one has already been beaten up. You could almost not say their likeness with the state he is in."

And indeed, even Legolas could see, from his uncomfortable position, that under the dark curls, the man's face was purple with bruises and scratched in several places. It almost made the elf feel he wasn't so badly off, considering what had surely been done to the man to get him in this state.

Almost. It was hard to think otherwise when he had lost so much blood.

But apparently, the man didn't seem to care, and even better, he spoke in Westron.

"If you were expecting someone else, maybe you could just let me go, don't you think?"

The orcs were so baffled at the man's words that Kirch stopped the tying he was doing on the arms to look up. The man suddenly spun around, and headbutted the orc with all his might.

The ugly monster wobbled backwards before falling to the ground, but unfortunately for Brian, the smaller one was still there, and punched him in the guts. Brian spluttered some blood on the hideous thing as he was being tossed against a wall, next to a man in antique garb.

Kirch got back on his feet and growled at the bruised man, but Guruck stopped him from killing him.

"Later, oaf. We still have work to do."

The smaller orc wiped off the blood he had in one eye and looked at the man. He was surprised to see him smiling a bloody grin.

"Sorry for that. I'm still a mess from the last time someone tried to kill me."

He didn't sound sorry at all, Sibylla thought, but anything that unnerved their captors could be used, so she wasn't going to get angry for that. The man really looked like he was a mess.

What happened after that was the same as always. The dagger, the blood, the darkness.

After the dragon's roar, Legolas thought there was nothing that could shock him anymore of the strange sounds that happened each time another person was summoned to the underground cave.

He was wrong.

So wrong.

This time, there wasn't a sound.

But at the same time, they all had the impression they could hear the screams of hundreds of dying men and women. A heavy weight settled in everyone's throat, making it seemingly hard to breath, and the youngest in the room, Paris and Cassandra, felt the panic overcome the composure they had regained with difficulty during the last minutes. It was as if they were underwater, and couldn't breath, and knew they were going to die. It was as if they were on the battlefield, and they were seeing the blade coming for their necks in the corner of their eyes, and they knew there was no way they would evade or block that blow. It was as if they were sentenced to death, and waiting for the executioner to come in.

Legolas and the two orcs felt the death, and the dread, and they immediately understood who it was that had appeared this time. They understood, and the orcs were overjoyed, even if instinctively terified.

It was him.

The immortal man they had been searching for all along.

It was him, and their search had ended. Soon, Guruck, Kirch, and all the other orcs that were waiting outside of the room, standing guard for some, would have a banquest of human flesh to feast upon. They just had to tie up the man and his "side effects", and they would be free to eat as they wanted, and to do what they did best: cause fear and misfortune in Middle-Earth.

Mordor

Barad-dûr

The Dark Lord entered his quarters, thinking back on the last skirmishes with Gondor. It was time he crushed that country for real. If only he knew where his ring was...

A loud thud caught his attention, and Sauron walked to Ellduath's room to see what it was all about.

As soon as he entered the room, and he saw the shadow sitting in an armchair pulsating with malevolence, the Dark Lord understood.

As if to confirm his toughts, an otherwordly, dark, screeching voice that would have been unbearable to someone who wasn't used to the Nazgûl, talked.

"They are here at last. All of them."

Sauron smiled, but the expression it made on his handsome face was more like a painful wince than anything else. He had long forgotten how to express his feelings. Or maybe it was because he didn't have pure, real feelings anymore.

Who cared?

One of his best weapons would soon be complete.

Greenwood the Great

The orcs' lair

The two orcs almost jumped on the four people that had appeared in the room, as soon as they could see farther than one foot away. In the confused time that followed, Legolas heard two women's screams, but they both seemed more angry than scared of the monsters. One of the four couldn't defend himself at all, which was a pity, because with their superior number they could have overcome their attackers and freed the others. But the man had, as soon as he had appeared, fallen to the ground, dying. No one would be angered with him, considering he had a wooden pole in his stomach, and he certainly hadn't eaten it.

At one point, the blond woman saw the man lying on the floor. Her eyes widened, and she threw her attacker away as if he was made of wool to go to the dying man. She hesitated only an instant, before getting the wood out of the wound and pressing her hands against it to stop the flow of blood. Elizabeth knew it wasn't exactly how if should have been done, but she was no physician, and she certainly didn't have the tools to treat the commodore... admiral... James. She only hoped he wasn't beyond saving yet.

Meanwhile, the other woman, dark skinned, had been incapacitated and tossed with the other prisoners, who only gave her a sad smile when she frowned at the situation. Anamaria had traveled across the world, but she had never been in such a strange and alarming situation. Considering she had battled cursed pirates, that meant something.

Still, she felt she had the right to insult anyone who dared to tie her without her consent. Not that she'd ever give it to anyone, true, but eitherway, she was already searching for insults worthy of the ugly faces of her captors.

Guruck turned to the blond woman as soon as he was done with the other one, but she snapped at him.

"No need to tie me up, I can't let go or he'll die. So leave me alone."

Oddly enough, he felt he'd better obey. There was something about the woman's voice, as if she was used to giving orders, and he certainly felt she wasn't one to be crossed, despite the situation. He'd take care of her... later. Once he'd be done with the other man, who was the one he truly needed to subdue. Yeah, that's right. Later.

The orc was definitely not running away from a woman's wrath.

He'd come back later.

Beside, Kirch seemed to have difficulties dealing with the immortal man, who was almost done strangling him to death.

Needless to say the other people looked at the scene in wonder.

Guruck grabbed the discarded wooden pole and hit the man on the head, who let go of Kirch and fell to the ground. He wasn't unconscious, yet, because when both orcs went to tie him up, the man gave them a look that almost sent them back to picking daisies in the fields, even if they hadn't ever done such a thing.

At the sound of William's fall, Elizabeth looked up, and when she saw what had been done to the man she loved, she barely restrained herself from leaving Norrington there and murder the little monster. She had been waiting for the East Indian Company's attack those last hours, and was on edge. Instead, she glared so fiercely at the monstrous being's back he could have sworn he felt it without seeing it.

That last apparition had been rather chaotic, Odysseus had to say, but he had to admit that he had felt extremely good when the blond woman had snapped at the monster and when the man had almost succeeded in murdering the other one. Even the other woman had been difficult to handle for the two beasts. If they were to get out of here, the Ithacan was sure they wouldn't be a burden, even if there was one of them who seemed about to die.

While the demonic beings were busy tying up the man that looked like him, yes, another one, and yes, Balian had stopped being surprised at what happened this day, the former lord whispered to the woman what to do about the wound. He had been on enough battlefields to have an idea of what had to be done, and apparently, she understood him, even if she had been talking that other language, that, if he wasn't mistaken, sounded like English. Not that he could talk English, or even understand it. But he could recognize it.

As for Paris, the young prince was busy trying to calm his sister, whose eyes kept traveling from one of the lookalikes to another, and to the blond person that had been used to get them here from what he had understood, in great dread, not even paying attention to the two monsters, as if they didn't matter at all.

Brian, on the other hand, was using the mess created to discreetly undo the rope tying his feet. He had learned, when he had been no more than six years old, that escaping skills were as important as fighting skills, and now knew how to trick his bounds into being useless. The rope finally loosened around his ankles, and he managed to get it away. In case the room would come back into order, he brought his legs under him to hide the fact that the ties weren't there anymore. Then he started working on the bounds on his wrists.

The bruised man's actions failed to escape one person's notice, and it was Odysseus', who had almost gotten his own ties off, but couldn't do anything more, stuck. The greek king managed to catch the other man's eyes, and he looked down at his hands, before looking at his own.

Brian checked the monsters were still busy, and nodded discreetly.

At that moment, a scream led everybody to look back at the man the orcs were dealing with.

William had just bitten off two of Kirch's fingers, and was spitting them out of his mouth with disgust written all over his face.

"How can you even be alive? You seem to be as rotten as a corpse!"

Guruck stabbed the man with the black dagger to make him shut up. He didn't see, as he took out the blade, how the wound closed on its own, nor did he notice the discreet hissing that escaped the blade as it came into contact with Will's blood.

No one did, in fact, besides the two blacksmiths in the room, one of whom was the concerned person. Balian, on the other, only stared at the closing wound, not even surprised anymore, and certainly not trying to understand how that was possible. He was just glad that the man wasn't wounded anymore.

William, as for him, only glanced at the iron chest that had been pushed in the dark of the room during the fight. He didn't know how his heart had followed him to this place. Then again, he didn't know how he himself had ended up here, so it wasn't such an important question.

But it was a problem he'd rather not add to the current ones.

Will frankly hoped no one would notice the chest and look inside, just in case a beating heart out of its body freaked them out enough for them to stab it without asking for an explanation.

He also hoped no one besides Elizabeth and Norrington knew what they could do with it, or worst, what they could make him do with it. His two captors seemed unpleasant enough to use him to slaughter and pillage at will if they ever got their hands on his power.

In fact, he guessed they did that already, but wouldn't refuse a way to do it even more efficiently.

Guruck snarled at the immortal man, and turned to the furious Kirch who was holding his diminished and bloodied hand with the other one.

"Come, Kirch, I'll let you get rid of him. Just remember what the master said: you start by taking out the heart. After that, you can do whatever you want to his body for revenge."

Will arched an eyebrow at that. If they tried to take his heart from the chest that was actually his, and not made of iron, they'd be in for a surprise.

Then an idea came to him, and he wondered if...

That's when he noticed all the other people tied up in the dark room, and the blond person chained to the wall. Until then, he had been too busy fighting off his attackers to truly take in his surroundings. Will stayed speechless as he saw the faces of Balian, Paris and Brian, who were looking at him more or less wide-eyed too.

The taller of the two orcs blocked his visual field, keeping him, by the same token, outside of the others' visual fields, except the blond person'. He was growling threateningly, and William had this crazy idea that he was meaning him harm.

After all, it wasn't as if the being looked like some kind of monster and had had two of his fingers severed by the Dutchman's captain.

Kirch took out a bone blade, and walked towards the man, intent on making him suffer as much as possible while he'd take out his heart.

Seeing that, Legolas tried to move and stop him, but he was still tightly chained, and even if he felt a bit better than before, he was still weakened by the blood loss. The best he managed to do was making his chains rattle.

From further away, Guruck laughed at the Elvenprince's futile attempt to interfere.

"Don't worry, elf, it will soon be your turn."

The master and the Witch King had said "mostly unscathed", after all. If the prisoner had one of two broken bones when delivered to Mordor, it wouldn't matter much, considering what was most likely going to happen to him afterwards, the orc thought with a pleased and unpleasant smile on his unsightly face.

Behind him, Anamaria, Elisabeth, Brian and Sibylla gasped a bit. Had the monster really called the person chained to the wall an elf?

"Hey, Guruck, that one has a huge scar just above his heart! Do you reckon we're not the first ones to try to take it out of him?"

The smaller orc laughed, thinking it wasn't great to be an immortal man when amongst mortals.

"Some people surely tried, eh! But you, you will succeed. So hurry up and do it."

As for Elizabeth, she frowned in thoughts.

Will didn't have a scar on his heart.

Then again, James had been wounded days before, and there was no way he had survived for so long with this kind of wounds. Her theory was completely mad, but what wasn't about their current situation? Somehow, Anamaria, James, Will and herself had been taken out of their time and summoned to this place, but not from the exact same time of their life. From what she had seen, Will hadn't changed much between her time and his, but maybe there were a few weeks, or even a few months. It was possible the Will from her time would soon be wounded...

But this wasn't the time to think about it. The two monsters were going to kill Will, and she couldn't move without killing James...

Even if she loved Will more than anyone else, she couldn't just decide to let James die when she wasn't even sure she'd succeed in saving the love of her life. The two monsters weren't very tall, but unlike their corpse-like appearance that could lead someone to believe they were weak and degraded, Elizabeth could tell they were strong and dangerous.

Desperate, that was what the situation seemed to be.

But before the Pirate King got to make a choice, Kirch cut Will's scar open, sure that it would hurt more than a normal cut. The orc smiled, revealing his yellow teeth, and grabbed without delicacy the two sides of the now fresh wound.

Will bit his tongue as the monster's two thumbs entered his flesh to part it, opening his chest onto the place where his heart should have been. Even if it would not kill him, and he would heal in no time, it still hurt as much as if he had been a normal man.

Refraining from screaming earned him a glare, for the orc wanted to hear the pain he was inflicting. The captain of the Flying Dutchman arched an eyebrow when he realized that, hardly believing it. What exactly were these creatures of evil?

Annoyed with the lack of reaction, Kirch ripped the flesh open as soon as his thumbs passed the rib cage, breaking two ribs while doing so. One of the broken bones pierced a lung. Warm blood bubbled out of the man's chest, and onto the orc's hands.

This time, Will couldn't help it; he screamed with pain so loudly that the second monster took a step back.

Luckily for him, only Kirch and Legolas saw what happened then. The others couldn't see what had happened, and never guessed what was really going on. They had understood they wanted to hurt the man, and knew they intended to take his heart out. But they ignored how far they had gone in that program, and only believed it was the normal "hurting" part.

When the scream died on Will's lips, he spat his hatred to the monster's face. It still hurt as much as before, but his lungs, especially with one pierced, could only yell for so much time.

Kirch stared dumbly at what he had before his eyes. As for Legolas, the elf was watching with horror and fascination the utter lack of heart of the man that was being opened just next to him, under his nose. This man literally had no heart.

The orc was about to ask Guruck what to do, since the immortal man had no heart to take out, but he never got to; this was the moment Anamaria chose to yell at both orcs.

"You bastards, let go of the boy! He did nothing to you!", was a very polite and shortened version of what passed her lips. Guruck stared, dumbfounded, at the woman who could insult orcs better than they themselves did with any race they encountered.

Many things happened then.

The most incredible of which was only witnessed by Legolas.

To be fair, Kirch saw it too. But the orc was soon not in any state to speak of it to anybody, so he could hardly be counted as a witness.

William, when he had first landed in this strange place, had been so surprised he hadn't had the time to act accordingly to the attack he had suffered. After what he had noticed, first of all Elizabeth, who had been dead for centuries, and after that, her still clean outfit of Pirate Lord of the South China Sea. Meaning, prior-battle.

No matter how it had happened, Elizabeth was here, alive, and it was an Elizabeth who ignored what had become of her husband, that he was undead, and even that he was her husband, because they hadn't yet been married back then.

So William had decided that no matter how long they got here, together, he would not tell her and worry her with what had become of his heart, be it about life or be it about love.

So it meant that all along, he had restrained himself to fight off the two monsters without his powers. Hence, no passing through objects.

This time, however, there was no helping it. Nothing the monster did would kill Will, and for now Elizabeth couldn't see him.

So the captain of the Dutchman allowed his wrists to pass throught the rope tying them together. His right hand grabbed the broken bit of bone that pierced his lung and got it out of his chest before the wound completely healed. He felt incredibly better once it was done, as he felt the ribs grow back and his lung stitch itself back. If there was one thing he couldn't pass through, it was obviously himself. And like it or not, this broken bit of bone was a part of him. Which meant, first, that he had to get it out himself, second, that he'd have to break himself open again later on because there was still another bit to take care of.

But it wasn't the time to worry about that, and Will thrust the bone in the monster's throat, who looked at him dumbfounded as he fell to the ground.

Meanwhile, Brian had managed to get rid of his bounds, under the cover of the dark-skinned woman's yells. He'd have to thank her later for that.

He quickly jumped on his feet, surprising everybody, except the oldest man amongst the prisoners, and smirked at the monster before him, who was too dumbfounded to react quickly enough.

Brian's smile was still covered in blood, though dried this time. The dark color painting his lips scaled off as they stretched into a hainous grin.

Guruck started snarling just before the man's hand touched his head, and the orc was still reaching for a weapon when his head was bashed forcefully into the nearest wall.

There was a "crack!", and a dead orc fell to the ground, half of his face smashed by its encounter with a wall. If anything, Sibylla thought it was better looking than before.

Both Will and Brian took ten seconds to breath after their ordeals.

After all, given the fact that no one had come in at the first screams, either there was no one else in there, or the occupants of the room had been expected to be loud. So the dull sound of two bodies collapsing on the ground weren't going to attract more monsters.

Luckily.

Or rather, if they were to be lucky.

None of the people left in the room were known for being particularly lucky in their lives, so they wouldn't bet everything on luck. Hence why they still tried not to linger.

After ten second of calm, Will took a deep breath and tried to ignore that his chest was soaked with blood. With some luck, Elizabeth would think it was the monster's.

He winced. He didn't like to rely on luck. Most of the time, his was shitty.

Prefering to postpone the upcoming confrontation with his wife-who-was-not-yet-his-wife, William turned to the poor elf and started to unchain him, as gently as he could.

Legolas almost fell on his savior, his strength still a far away memory. He felt sore, and nauseous.

Will helped the blond as well as he could, and finally got to see his face.

The Dutchman's captain blinked.

There were decidedly way too many "him" in the room, if there was even one with blond hair.

And pointy ears, too, but if he was an elf as the monster had said...

Oh well.

The elf's voice was barely audible when he talked, and Will was the only one to hear him.

"Thank you, but are you alright?"

William shifted so that the others couldn't see his face, and pointed at his chest.

"About that? It's healed."

His own answer had only been a whisper, but speaking meant he had to breath, something he had tried not to do until now, knowing there was a broken bone at large near his lungs. He didn't want an encore of the piercing from before, thank you very much.

But he couldn't speak without breathing, or rather, he theoretically could, since he was undead, but he didn't know how to make his body act so. And it just happened he couldn't breath without having the broken bit of rib poking against his lung.

Not actually piercing it, but it hurt.

Will winced.

Legolas arched an eyebrow.

The captain of the Flying Dutchman amended, still in a whisper.

"Mostly healed. I have a bit of a rib that is currently floating around my lungs, but I'll take care of it as soon as no one will be there to see that I don't actually have a heart and almost nothing can kill me."

The last part had been mumbled, but of course Legolas' elven ears heard it all. No matter how shocked by the claim, and now with a good enough idea of why this man was immortal, the Elvenprince kept his face in check. If the man himself didn't want the others to know, he wasn't going to be the one to tell them.

Will eventually deflected the attention on the prince.

"But you, are you alright? You're as soaked in blood as I am, and it's saying something, considering..."

And he gestured at the scar on his heart, silently reffering to the opening of his chest.

Legolas showed him the back of his hands, his forearms and his own heart, before answering.

"You are not the only one to have scars... No matter, I can stand. I will not be very efficient if there are any more orcs to battle, but I can hold my own."

Both agreed to keep their true state to themselves.

In the meantime, Brian had looked around for something to cut the others' bounds with. The various swords, knives and other weapons had been thrown into the dark of the room as soon as the orcs had gotten their owners under control, so the man had to take a torch off the wall to search for them. Eventually, the gold of a sword handle reflected the flames of the torch, and Brian stumbled over a bow.

He found in this fashion ten weapons: Will's small sword that-was-actually-Norrington's-but-eitherway, Paris' bow and the two daggers the prince and princess of Troy had had on them, Balian's longsword, Odysseus' xiphos, Elizabeth's chinese sword, Anamaria's cutlass, and Sibylla's two daggers, after all, even princesses and queens had to defend themselves.

He himself had not been armed when he had been summoned to this cave, not even with his gun, because it had been a day off.

Brian took the daggers and went to the oldest man in the group first, cutting his already loose ties and giving him a blade to do as much with the others. Soon, they were all free, at least of their bounds, even if for the Trojans to trust the Greek enough to let him free them, it had taken a whole minute.

The first thing Balian and Sibylla did was to help Elizabeth with the wounded James Norrington, who had tried to talk but found out his throat was completely dry. With the help of the former queen of Jerusalem and of Anamaria, the Navy man managed to stand up. He now had a large bandage covering both his stomach and chest.

His first words, after having drunk some bad-tasting water coming from the orcs' supplies, were "Damn Jones and his forsaken crew."

Elizabeth laughed at him when he told her that the waves had robbed him of both his hat and wig. She told him it was better this way, while everyone else looked at the admiral wondering why he would want to use a wig.

That is, all those who understood what he had said.

After what everyone took back what was theirs. Elizabeth ranted about how she had left her guns on the table just minutes before being transported in here, and Legolas mourned the loss of his bow and knives. As for Brian, he just shrugged his lack of weapons off, saying that if it came to it, he'd have to break the monster's necks, and that's all.

Legolas almost argued that it wasn't so easy, but he kept silent, his eyes on the dead orc his lookalike had bashed against a wall.

Once they were all more or less in a better state, everyone sat down in a circle.

Legolas was keeping an eye on the door, just in case. He had borrowed Paris' bow and arrows.

After a silence, Brian was the first one to talk.

"Right, so, first thing first: who speak english here?"

To nobody's surprise, the three Greeks seemed utterly lost. Well, not Odysseus, who was simply listening seriously, as if trying to absorb the words and make them into others.

William, Anamaria, Elizabeth and Norrington raised their hand, as well as Brian himself, and Sibylla, who looked at her husband as if to ask what he was waiting for.

Seeing Balian was simply staring at her, as if surprised, the former queen sighed.

"I do. Not very well, but I do. My husband and I are french. Maintenant, Balian, peux-tu me dire pourquoi tu ne lèves pas la main?"

The young man frowned, unsure of what to say.

"Je n'ai pas compris la question, Sibylla. Je ne parle pas l'anglais."

"Bien sûr que si. Cela fait des mois que nous avons rejoins le roi Richard dans la reconquête de Jérusalem. Quelle langue parlais-tu, tout ce temps, sinon l'anglais? Et d'ailleurs, pourquoi es-tu habillé comme cela? Nous sommes de retour en terre sainte, et plus en France."

This time, Balian looked completely lost.

"Je te demande pardon, Sibylla, mais moi, je vis en France. D'ailleurs, nous venons de nous marier."

He ended his sentence almost tentatively, as if he feared to contradict his wife, but was sure she was talking nonsense.

Elizabeth, who had learned french early in her life, and Norrington, who had learned it out of necessity not long before becoming a captain, shared a glance. Will had understood too, after all, he had had seven centuries to learn most living languages, but he didn't want to explain that to Elizabeth, so he acted as if he hadn't understood one word of what had been said.

Before the two french people started arguing, Elizabeth interrupted in French. She had almost no accent, and was rather pleased with her mastery of the language.

"Vous parlez du Roi Richard Coeur de Lion, nest-ce pas? Douxième siècle? Mais nous, nous sommes du Dix-huitième siècle, et ces gens-là semblent venir de la Grèce antique. Je ne suis pas certaine de ce que j'affirme, mais je pense que nous avons été amenés ici et maintenant, non seulement de différentes époques, mais aussi de différents temps de notre vie. Pour moi, James a été blessé il y a presque deux semaines. Et pourtant, il est toujours vivant. Quand à Will, je vois qu'il a une alliance au doigt. Or, nous n'avons pas encore eu le temps de nous marier..."

Sibylla looked at her husband, and Balian did exactly the same, completely thrown aback by Elizabeth's theory.

"Well, if that's the case, I guess Balian doesn't know yet how to speak english. But from what I heard, the elf speaks English too, or else he wouldn't understand us."

Legolas looked startled for a second, then his face lit up in understanding.

"Oh, the Common Speech? Sorry, in these lands, we call it Westron."

Brian looked over everyone slowly, before asking once again who spoke English well enough to understand and be understood.

Will, Elizabeth, Norrington, Anamaria, Brian himself, and Sibylla and Legolas raised their hand.

"Right, now, who speak French? Français?"

Balian, Sibylla, Norrington and Elizabeth raised their hands. Legolas saw Will hesitate, but said nothing. Apparently the man had many things to hide. As long a the prince was aware of that, he saw no reason to divulge them.

Finally, Brian turned to the three Greeks, and thought it was now or never. If they laughed, he'd know he wasn't even able to ask properly if someone spoke Greek in Greek. Not his fault, after all, he had done ancient Greek at school, and it didn't include talking it.

"You speak Greek, don't you? Or whatever you called it back then?"

Paris, Cassandra and Odysseus shared a look. They didn't know what this "Greek" was, but the man with the bruised face had certainly talked in their tongue. Maybe that was how they called their language, in the man's country.

Cassandra was the one to speak. This was the first time she really talked since they had ended up in this strange place. When everyone's gaze fell on her, the young woman shivered. There was something in these lands, something that she could sense, but that for now couldn't see her...

She hoped it would continue that way.

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'Greek', but yes, we are from Greece."

Brian frowned before remembering that the Greeks had taken a long time before considering themselves as such. Brushing aside the point, he went back to what mattered.

"Alright. Who speak Greek? I hope there is someone else than me, because those three come from a time when neither French nor English existed, and they certainly don't speak our languages. And I'm far from proficient."

Then he repeated the first part of the question in Greek, and waited.

Besides the three greek people, only Sibylla and Elizabeth raised a timid hand. Greek had been part of their education as young women of high birth. They wouldn't dare to say they spoke it well, but they guessed they could manage to communicate well enough.

This time, Brian saw the hesitance in the man with the bloodied chest's eyes. Like Legolas, he decided to say nothing. For now.

"Good. At least, we're not completely unable to communicate with one another. Now, each of you will present himself. First, you say your first name. Then, pause. After that, your full name, starting again with the first name. I don't want to repeat that in French and Greek, so please, those of you who understand me, do it so that the others will understand."

Man, he was talking a lot today. That wasn't like him. Then again, Brian was rarely hauled away from a coffee shop and thrusted with strangers from other times and countries to defend themselves against monsters.

Seeing that no one was starting, he rolled his eyes and set the example.

"Brian. Brian Epkeen."

And he pointed at himself, hoping the french man and the three Greek would understand better if he did so.

The others shared a glance, and Will was the next one to speak. Him too pointed at himself.

"William. William Turner."

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Swann."

The Pirate King saw Will flinch at that, and she remembered the wedding ring he was wearing. She felt secretly glad that she wasn't the one who was the most in advance in their timeline, though she was a bit sorry for Will. If ever something had happened to her, or to someone they knew, he wouldn't be able to talk about it with her...

"James. James Norrington."

The former commodore almost croaked the words as he talked, because he was still feeling weak and dry. Elizabeth had to contain a laugh. This was, no matter how bad it felt for the admiral, still better than being dead, she guessed.

"Anamaria."

And the dark-skinned woman kept it that way. For the first time, Will wondered if maybe, she didn't have a family name... because he was certain she had no family.

Legolas was the next one. He had pondered for a time which name he should give... Unlike men, elves didn't use family names. They used, most of the time, the name of their father, or a name that had been given to them according to who they were...

"Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf."

That was how his friends called him.

Sibylla followed, conscious that, as a princess and a queen, her family name hadn't meant much.

"Sibylla. Sibylla of Jerusalem."

When they heard it, Will, Elizabeth and Brian almost stopped breathing. The latter two, because of their education. The first one, because of the years he had had to read about anything he could find. Having the Internet or the TV on the Dutchman was unfortunately not an option.

"Wait wait wait, as in, the Queen Sibylla?"

Said queen shrugged. It was of no importance, here.

She turned to her husband, and looked at him pointedly.

"Balian. Balian d'Ibelin."

This time, the three only looked at the defensor of Jerusalem in wonder. Both Sibylla and Balian guessed they had somehow become famous over the centuries, and Legolas wondered what was the story behind the silence. If the woman was a queen, was her husband a king?

That left only the greek people to present themselves. Brian hoped they had understood what had been done so far.

They had. But when they said their name, the following silence was so deafening Legolas could have sworn someone had made sound disappear from the world. This time, there wasn't one person, besides himself, of course, who didn't know them.

"Odysseus of Ithaca."

"Cassandra of Troy."

"Paris of Troy."

The looks the three legends got were priceless, and Brian was already wondering if he could get them to sign an autograph or something if he found a piece of paper.

Odysseus thought he'd have to learn those people's languages soon, so that they could tell him why they were all looking at him as if he was Hermes himself.

After a time, when they were sure that both Legolas and Norrington could walk, as well as Will even if he seemed suspiciously unscathed, according to Elizabeth, they picked up their weapons, and hoped they could make their way out of this orcish lair.

The forest

A guard called his captain with silent gestures, and pointed to him yet another orc sentry. But this time, the sentry wasn't alone. And he was standing between the shadow and the light, but not far away there was a great oak, and they could see a distinct hole in the ground next to the sentry.

"I believe you found their lair. Now, let us pray the Valar that the prince is still alive. Call the others, and we will eliminate all of them as quickly as possible, before going down to search for Legolas."

Soon, the whole patrol was gathered.

It was quick and efficient. The elves took their bows, aimed, and waited for their captain's order. They released their arrows at the very same time, and the sentry as well as the nine orcs that were standing just behind fell to the ground.

Carefully, the guards walked to the entrance of the lair, bows armed, wary. They hadn't found any other orc outside the lair, but who knew? Maybe there was one, or ten, or twenty, hidden out there, waiting to attack. It wasn't likely; if there was only one, he wouldn't be brave enough to attack the ten of them. If they were more, they wouldn't be able to keep silent. It wasn't likely. But it could happen.

Or maybe there were orcs waiting for them, just in the shadows of the entrance.

They were there to free the Elvenprince. But if they could do so without losing their lives, it would always be better.

They were only at ten feet of the entrance when sounds of battle and screams were heard, coming from inside. The elves stopped advancing, their arrows ready to pierce through the first orc that would leave the shadows of the lair.

An indeed, an orc ran out of the lair, completely panicked. But he got an arrow in the head as soon as he walked out. The guards shared a questioning look, but no one knew what could have created such panic.

Two other orcs ran out, and they met the same fate. It was only with the fourth one that they got their answer. The fourth orc tried to ran out of the lair, and one arrow was almost released, when a voice followed the monster, and an arm yanked him back inside.

"What was is about gutting and eating me for dinner?"

This was a voice they knew well, and yet it wasn't Legolas Thranduilion's voice. It sounded like it, but not exactly. It was a bit less... harmonious, perhaps.

The orc tried to get out of the grip of his attacker, bringing him into the light.

And so the patrol of elves saw for the first time Brian Epkeen. And the man, bruised, bloody, was breaking an orc's neck.