A/N: There are slight references to Cassia and Siobhan's „Captive of Darkness" in this chapter, but you do not have to know CoD plot to understand my story.
2. Silent Tears
The cell was dark, dim, and dreary. Legolas was silently sitting in a corner with his knees pressed to his chest, and his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. Horrific memories flashed through his mind and the elf could not help but to tremble slightly. He hated and feared such closed in places.
There was a small barred window high above his head, but in the night there was no light to come into the prison and cheer up a broken-hearted soul, or to calm down a scared mind. Long, heavy chains lie on the floor in the corner opposite to the one occupied by the Prince. The Elf was glad that when they had reached the jail his wrists had been untied and the chains were not placed on him. He was not sure he would be able to stand it. It's not that he was not already uncomfortable and frightened enough. But if he had also been bound here, he probably would have panicked.
Slowly, wishing to turn his attention to something else other than the cell, to block the stream of painful and dreadful memories, he raised his eyes toward the little window, hoping to see the starryb night sky. But from this angle he could see nothing but the cold, unfriendly, and thick stone wall of the prison building.
Despair mercilessly filled his heart, making his breathing faster, and less controllable. Why was he imprisoned? He had not stolen anything. It all was just a fatal mistake. He was not guilty. He knew this, but he had not yet been proven innocent. And, to be honest, what evidence was there? Only Murdo's son's testimony. What if he did not confirm the elf's innocence? Or if no one believed him? Would Legolas be forced to stay here for long? And how long?
He realized he was a stranger here and these people did not like, nor trust, strangers. In a gesture of hopelessness he laid his forehead on his knees. Did he have any chances to get away from here?
He did not know the answer. He was not even sure he wanted to.
A short thought of Aragorn cropped up in his mind, making the Prince smile against the helplessness. Surely his friend would understand that something had gone wrong. Legolas believed that Strider could find a way to help him, once he found him. If he did at all. But the Prince knew his friend very well and was positive it was just a matter of time.
Slightly relieved, the elf fell asleep, now blissfully calm, and unaware of the gravity of his situation.
***
He did not know what had made him wake up. He did not raise his head; he only wished to sleep on, to slip into that wonderful forgetfulness again.
"Wake up! I have a piece of information for you." Legolas immediately recognized Burza's voice. He slowly looked into the man's face.
"I am innocent," He stated, his eyes begging the dog owner to believe him.
"I am not the one who has to decide whether that is true or not," was the response. "Now shut your mouth and listen; I will not be repeating anything." When the elf nodded, Burza continued: "As a stranger, you surely do not know the rules here. Although little crimes are a common thing, we do not like it, and we fight it. You will undoubtedly pay for what you have done."
"And if I have not done anything?" Legolas cut in.
"Prove it," the man demanded and, before the prisoner could open his mouth again, he carried on. "Know that every month we traditionally execute the worst criminal by burning him on the stake. As of yet, you are the worst one -- but there are still ten days to the execution."
Legolas shivered. So he most likely had only ten days of life left?
Burza noted his distress and smiled wickedly. "There is only one way you can avoid being burned. Someone else must commit a worse crime than yours. But do not bear much hope, there is a very strong possibility that this will not happen. Also know that this traditional death in Birlinn lasts for…" The man paused, letting the unfinished sentence hang in the air. "Well, that depends. Sometimes it's just a matter of hours, but there was once a lad who managed to stay alive, roasting for two weeks, the little devil. Can you imagine it? Two weeks! Surely you are curious why. The sentenced criminal is poisoned and tied to a pillar. If the people have mercy, they might demand burning him earlier, but usually they just stand there and watch him cry and moan in pain. And, naturally, he is kept conscious the whole time."
Legolas' heart was now racing in horror. Was this his future? Was this the way the Prince of Mirkwood was going to die?
"Any questions?" Burza demanded.
"Just one. What will you do with me if a worse criminal is found in time?" The elf was almost afraid to ask, but he could not resist. He wanted to know as many details as possible about what was to come. He was, after all, a warrior, and a Prince. He needed to keep his decorum up.
"We will probably release you. You will be absolutely useless then, especially considering the fact that imprisonment is already a huge punishment to you," the man replied, not showing any emotions. "Don't you elves have prisons?"
"We do."
"Then what's the problem with this one?" Burza mercilessly teased Legolas.
"There is none." The Prince turned his head away. He had his pride. He was not going to confess to anyone, he refused to show his own weakness, especially to someone like this man. That would only provoke the man to mistreat him further, and Legolas wished to avoid that if he could.
"Very well." The dog owner turned back. "Someone will bring you something to eat in a few hours," he added, and quickly left the prison. Legolas watched him go from behind the metal bars.
He buried his face hopelessly in the sleeves of his coat. He was once again alone, in a dark cell, with scary thoughts as his only companion. Now there was no escape; he was sure of it. No one could help him. Not even Aragorn. And there was no way to tell anyone what had befallen him, not to mention bidding them farewell, or thanking his friends and his father for all help, friendship, and love they had given to him over the years.
A stream of light from the early sunset entered the cell, but brought no solace to the lonely being. Instead of seeing hope, he could now only see the chains lying in front of him more clearly. A large spider crept across the floor. Legolas stared at it blankly until the arachnid hid somewhere in the far corner, surely not wishing to meet the warm light of the new day.
***
Aragorn wandered aimlessly around the forests of Mirkwood, deep concern written clearly across his face. Lost in thought, he did nit notice a protruding root on his path and stumbled, nearly falling on his face.
It had been a week since Legolas had left for Birlinn. He should have returned -- at least -- two or three days ago. The man feared for his friend. He knew that Legolas did not like visiting human towns. What could have caused the delay?
Aragorn needed to find out. Evening was coming and the Ranger slowly marched back towards the royal palace. Although he had never been to Birlinn himself, he knew more or less where it was, and this was all that he needed. After a few minutes he had a neat, little plan in his head.
***
The stars were glowing in the dark, night sky, faultlessly indicating cardinal directions. The moon, although hidden behind thin clouds, shined coldly and fiercely, refusing to cover the world with total darkness.
He cautiously peeked out from a corner. There was no one around. Soundlessly, he crept toward the nearest tree, willing to move in the shadow, where he was more difficult to spot. He was a skilled fugitive, after all. Being Elladan and Elrohir's adopted brother allowed him to learn how to avoid being noticed and how not to leave a trail. His great experience was visible in his every movement, in the way he kept his arms, stepped with his feet, and watched all the surroundings, even in his eyes. But, of course, no one could see him now.
Aragorn knew that the Elven King would not approve of this. Otherwise, he would not be forced to escape secretly; he would simply take a horse and ride straight to Birlinn. However, sneaking out with a horse was much more difficult than doing this alone, and the man would not risk getting caught. He knew he would not get another chance to leave Mirkwood in this manner.
He reached the high wall, which was a border between the Elven habitation and the outer forest, which was exactly where he wanted to be. There was currently a little hole in it, and Thranduil was planning to get it fixed in a few days, but, as of now, it was the perfect exit for the slim Ranger. Although he knew this place was strictly guarded, the patrol was not there at the moment, undoubtedly checking some other part of the area they were supposed to be patrolling. Aragorn was aware that he had only a little bit of time. He approached the hole and forced his shoulders through it. It was smaller than he had expected, and he had to struggle to pull his upper body free, but was finally met with success. Once his shoulders were on the other side, the rest of his body crowded through with no trouble, and the man hurried off into the night.
An hour later he decided to stop and have some sleep. It would not be until late morning when the elves noticed his absence, and he would set out again before dawn. He realized that whatever had caused Legolas to stay in the town this long was surely not a pleasant thing, and so he was a bit afraid of what he might find there. Strider was positive he would need some strength for whatever would go down in Birlinn, so he quickly climbed a large tree in order to spend the night on its thick branches, well hidden in the foliage.
***
The sun was already rising, turning the sky pink-orange, and sending its light and warmth to the earth down below, when Aragorn woke up. Angry with himself, he somehow clumsily jumped off the tree. He did not like how long he had slept, considering the fact that he would have to find a way to the town he had never visited before. However, the fresh, summer morning air encouraged him to continue the journey, giving him strength and will to walk. He hurriedly ate some berries he managed to find in the forest, and drank some cool water from a nearby source. Then, he strode toward Birlinn.
He marched all day and, despite some minor trouble with finding his way, he entered the town around dusk.
The first thing he realized was that everyone was staring at him as if he was leading a tame warg on a leash. If he was such a sensation here, then how had they reacted to the sight of an elf? All the glances around were definitely not friendly ones and the fact only managed to deepen the fear he had for Legolas.
The Ranger quickly found the only inn in Birlinn and entered it. Ignoring the unpleasant smell and, pretending that the omnipresent smoke did not obscure his vision, he sat in the corner, by a little, rather disused table and watched the patrons, hiding his own eyes under the hood of his old, leather coat. He focused on their conversations, hoping to gather some information, but it was not an easy task, since no one talked about what people usually talked about. Aragorn heard some whispered 'ranger'-s, 'what is he doing here?'-s and even some offensive epithets, most certainly directed at him. He chose to ignore them, as making a fuss would not help him to discover what had befallen his friend.
After about half an hour, everyone started to ignore the silent newcomer, who did not seem to be paying any attention to his surroundings.
Aragorn listened to them carefully, catching a few hushed and indistinct, but very important, words that sounded like 'elf' and 'cell'. He could not catch the details, but hearing what he had, he was almost sure that the Prince had been accused of something and imprisoned. Now it was time to find out more.
He knew that these people would not be kind to him, so he did not bother to be polite either. He approached the nearest table and leaned toward the man sitting by the wall, placing his left hand on the table top to support himself, and kept the right one near his body, ready to draw his sword should the men refuse to cooperate.
"What did you say about the elf?" he inquired firmly.
"It's none of your business," the native answered roughly.
"Are you sure?" Strider cast him a threatening glance. Although his face was hidden in the shadow of the hood, his intentions were clear: the Ranger wanted the answer and wanted it now.
"Alright, alright, I'll tell you!" The other man said, frightened, and eager to avoid trouble. He did not like what he was doing, and his mistrust fought his fear, but he had heard many tales of the Rangers' deadly fighting skills, so he finally decided to tell the stranger whatever he wanted.
"Then speak and do it quickly; I am not a patient man." Aragorn intentionally lowered his right hand toward the hilt of his sword. Threatening this man was a good tactic and Strider was sure he would not risk lying. Naturally, the Dúnadan intended him no harm, but he did not have to know that.
"A week ago a blond elf was found stealing from Murdo's son. So they put him into the prison and, in all likelihood, will kill him in three days," the frightened man summarized the events of the last few days.
"What!? Kill him!?"
"Yes, it's a tradition. Every month the worst criminal is poisoned and burned on the stake. And there is only one way for him to survive…" The man hesitated, but Aragorn remained silent, waiting. Although he did not make a single movement, he was dying to know how to save his friend without falling into more trouble. "There must be a worse criminal to take his place. Then, the first one will usually be released."
Strider slowly closed is eyes for a second, saying these words in his mind a few times. Then, he opened them again and looked into the other person's face.
"What is considered a worse crime than theft?" he asked quietly.
"Why are you asking?" the patron frowned at Estel.
"None of your business," the Ranger murmured simply. "Answer".
"I-I don't know… An arson, maybe?"
"'Maybe'?" he repeated the older man's last word.
"For sure," the other one corrected himself immediately. The black-coated man did not reply this time. He slowly straightened and nodded, not looking at the patron anymore, obviously thinking about something quite intensely. He turned and strode to the exit without a word. He had learned what he needed and staying inside would only be a useless waste of time. Everyone watched him leave the tavern, not expecting such a reaction.
Aragorn stepped out and marched toward what seemed to be the main part of Birlinn. Prisons were usually located there. Lost in thought, he did not even notice the heavy rain which started to fall when the Dúnadan was still in the inn.
A tall man with a large, jet black dog was standing in front of the door of a big stone building. A distinct inscription on its front read: Birlinn Town Prison.
Estel walked the jail around and found exactly what he was looking for: a small ground level window. He crouched and peeked into the small cell. At first he could not see anything but darkness, but after a few seconds he caught a glimpse of a fair-haired person sitting in the corner, just beneath the window. He glanced sadly at the tip of his head, not sure what to think about. Was he seeing his friend for the last time in his life? Unexpectedly, he felt tears gathering in his eyes, but refused to let them out. It was time to act, not get emotional. He was about to leave when, suddenly, the prisoner started to sing. Aragorn leaned on the wall, trying to see something more than strands of blond hair. He immediately recognized his friend's voice, as well as the tune. Legolas was singing an old elvish song about hope and true friendship, stronger than anything in the world.
The Ranger was already so wet because of the rain that he did not even notice silent tears running across his cheeks.
