Hey, guys. I'm in a hurry and won't be here for the next few days so enjoy this chapter till I get back! Smile!

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Legolas blinked at Gervas' words. "Your slave," he glibly responded. "And what service do you want of me? Teach your unruly children the meaning of decorum? Truthfully, I found them completely lacking in manners and deportment. You are a terrible parent."

Gervas turned red. He snatched a club from one of the standing guards and swung it viciously to strike the elf's head. Bright stars exploded behind Legolas' eyes from the impact, rendering him unconscious.

When he came to a while later, Legolas found himself lying on his side, still attached to the pole. But instead of rope, shackles now bound his wrists and ankles. He was also barefoot and shirtless, leaving him clad only in his soiled leggings.

Legolas couldn't stop his groans of pain as he lay there, writhing on the ground. With trembling hand, he reached up to touch his bleeding temple, all the while cursing at himself. Ai! Stupid idiot! Why can't you just keep your mouth shut?

"You awake, elf? Good. Now listen to what I have to say," Gervas suddenly appeared in Legolas' line of vision as the man squatted down in front of him. Legolas merely arched one brow at the man, waiting in silence for the man to continue.

"Like I've told you—right before you interrupted me just now—you are to be our slave," Gervas said. "You will do all that we tell you do and, believe me, there are lots of things to do here. You are going to be very busy. My deputy, Budal, will give you your chores in the morning."

A burly looking man stepped forward and gave the elf a hard stare. Legolas gulped, quite intimidated he was to see the bulging muscles on Budal's massive form.

So, this monster is going to be my keeper. Impressive, Legolas wryly thought, sending Budal a glare of his own.

"But for now, I expect you to get as much rest as you can, because it will be your last," Gervas continued, his eyes cold. "And don't even think of escaping. See that?"

Legolas looked at the direction that Gervas was pointing. Several men armed with bow and arrows were already posted at various spots, standing guard.

"They are watching your every move, elf. If you try to run away, they will shoot you without question. You will never succeed. Those men will see to it that you won't."

Gervas rose. As he turned to go, the man paused. "Oh, before I forget, elf; Welcome to my domain."

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"If I get my hands on that…that…elf…! I swear I'll put him in jail and keep him there until his hair turned gray!" The king of Gondor ranted on as he walked to and fro in his study. "Blast it! That elf is a menace to himself!"

Queen Arwen exchanged slightly amused looks with Prince Faramir who sat next to her. Aragorn had been like this since they received a missive from Narasene. Faramir, who still lingered in Minas Tirith before returning home to Emyn Arnen, had sent out his best trackers to look for the missing elven prince. So far, after two days of searching, no good news had come to their hearing.

"Estel." Arwen stood and reached for her husband's hand. "Come, sit down. You need to stay calm."

Aragorn's eyes bulged. "Stay calm? How can I stay calm when Legolas is out there, lying hurt or dead somewhere?"

Holding him still, Arwen gazed into Aragorn's eyes and saw great worry and pain there, as well as guilt.

"I should have been more firm with him, Arwen." Aragorn sighed, his shoulders slumped. "I should have knocked him unconscious and tied him up until he agrees to take his escorts with him. Blast it! Why did I let him go?!"

"Estel, it's not your fault. No one expected this would happen," she said, cupping his cheek.

Aragorn glanced askance at his wife. "You are joking, right? This is Legolas we are talking about. With him, you should expect the unexpected."

Arwen smiled wanly and turned to the other man in the room. "Faramir, talk some sense into him."

Grimacing slightly, Faramir stood and stepped closer. "Don't worry, my lord. Lord Thranduil is not going to kill you."

Arwen glared at him as Aragorn groaned out loud, his hand covering his eyes. "Big help you are!" she admonished Faramir. "I told you to comfort him, not to distress him more!"

Faramir shrugged, sheepishly. "Well, what else can I say?"

Arwen rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her husband. "Really, Estel. You need to stay calm. They will find him."

The king shook his head. "How can you be so sure?"

"Well, before this, he always came back to us, didn't he? I'm sure he will find a way to survive and return home, no matter what happens to him. Maybe our trackers have found him already, right as we speak." Arwen still not gave up placating her husband, even though her heart began to fill with doubt.

 "But the rain…it could be impossible to trace his tracks…" Aragorn leaned against the hearth, staring gloomily at the roaring fire. "Faramir, has Lord Thranduil been informed?"

Faramir blinked. "Uh…don't get this the wrong way, my lord, but…do you wish to die?"

"Faramir!"

The other man smiled weakly as Arwen's glare grew more ferocious. "Sorry. But I'm serious this time, Aragorn. Lord Thranduil might not kill you, but he might wring your neck with his own bare hands. He expects you to keep an eye on that precious son of his."

Exasperated with the two men, Arwen blurted, "It's too late for you to keep all this from him. Nara told me in her missive that she has already sent a messenger to Eryn Lasgalen."

"What?!No…" the men simultaneously shouted in surprise, muttering curses under their breath.

"Ai! We are dead!" Aragorn exclaimed.

"Knowing him, Thranduil will be here in the three days, top," supplied Faramir, already turning pale.

Aragorn drew a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "We must find Legolas, Faramir. And we must find him before his father gets here, or there will be fireworks in our hands!"

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With a tired groan, Legolas plopped himself down at the base of an apple tree behind Gervas' house. He slowly worked the kinks out of his joints before he leaned his back against the rough bark, his eyes closed and his legs outstretched in front of him.

"Stay there and don't go anywhere!"

Legolas' eyes snapped open at Budal's rough voice. The big man was glowering down at him, daring the elf to defy his orders. Having been at the receiving end of Budal's meaty fists twice before, defying the man was the last thing that Legolas wanted. So he simply shrugged and turned his gaze away, mourning his loss of freedom in silent contemplation.

Budal scoffed at the elf's lack of response and whirled around, signaling the other two men to keep watching over their prisoner.

Legolas swallowed down the tears that threatened to clog his throat, his eyes already stinging. So, this is what becomes of me due to my own stupidity. A slave. How pathetic, Legolas. You've totally done it now.

Five days had gone slowly and miserably for him. Five days of nightmare and utter humiliation. Gervas was not kidding when he said that they would keep Legolas busy. The man had listed so many chores for the elf to do, keeping him at work from dawn till night. Legolas had refused to do anything on the first day, but Gervas had happily told Budal to beat him until he obeyed. He still sported bruises and cracked ribs from that episode.

Although his pride lay in tatters, Legolas finally followed their orders, seething silently in anger. Once in a while, he would search for a chance to escape but, so far, his chances were slim. His guards trained their eyes on him all the time even while he slept, tied to the flag pole by his shackles.

With a grimace, Legolas looked down and stared at the blisters and cuts on his hands, a painful addition to his other injuries. He had been chopping logs all day, before distributing them to every house in the village. It was a very rough labor and downright torturing, especially to someone who had never done such tedious chore before. As a noble born prince, there were always the servants to do the works for him. He was pampered and indulged in every way—his needs fulfilled, his wishes granted.

But not anymore. He was now laboring for other people—the people who was also his enemy.

The Easterlings treated him like they would a slave, which exactly what he was to them. He had been forced to work in the stable once, shoveling out the horse manure and carting down the bales of hay from the barn next door. He wished they would let him get near the horses because he intended to steal one. But Gervas seemed to know what Legolas planned to do, so he kept the elf far away from the beasts.

Legolas had also been pushed to work in the village cornfield. It was time to plant new seeds. But instead of using the mules, the people had forced him to pull the plough. It was such a backbreaking work that Legolas had fainted from sheer exhaustion at the end of the day. Budal had doused him with a pail of water to wake him up, telling him to get to the local tavern next to wash some dishes.

Then there were more chores for him to do after that, one after another. He was refused his rest, and sometimes they even starved him. Being bound in shackles didn't help matters. His wrists and ankles were bloodied from the abrasions. The short piece of chain that connected his two legs didn't allow him for anything more than tiny, hobbling steps, adding to his difficulties to do his chores.

Sometimes, Legolas felt like screaming out his frustration and despair. He was treated lower than his pride allowed. Even the animals fared better than him. He felt so helpless and angry he wanted to kill something, or someone. He had considered using the axe he'd used to chop woods just now as a weapon, but those men had never stopped aiming their bows and arrows at his heart, as if wishing he would do something so they could have the excuse to shoot him.

Nara must be frantic by now, he thought, hugging his knees to his chest. And maybe Estel is already out there, looking for me. Or better yet, maybe father is screaming at that human right now, for letting me do such a stupid thing, riding without my escorts. Ai, that would be a sight to see.

A big lump instantly grew in his throat, choking him, as the faces of his loved ones swam in his mind. Father…Estel…Nara…

Before he could burst into uncontrollable sobs, Budal suddenly appeared once more, carrying a small package wrapped in a brown paper. The man tossed him the package and it landed on the ground, right next to Legolas' feet.

"Your dinner. Now eat," he ordered.

Legolas glanced at the package and picked it up. Instead of the usual rice or pieces of bread, he found several slices of dried venison and a raw piece of chicken wrapped inside. He nearly gagged. "I...You know I don't eat meat."

Budal smirked with a shrug. "Yes, I know. But that's all you shall have for today."

"But I can't eat this," Legolas protested, even though he was so hungry he could eat an entire horse.

"Fine." Budal snatched the package from the elf's startled hands. "Then you shall starve."

At that, the man turned to go. "Oh, right, I nearly forgot." Budal paused for a moment. "There's still one more errand that the chief wants you to do before you sleep. I'll come back for you after I eat my dinner. Enjoy listening to your stomach sing," he said with a laugh and resumed walking, already digging at Legolas' food.

Legolas' eyes drew to a slit, wishing he had a blade to stab through the man's broad back.

Sighing, he turned slightly and rested his forehead against the tree trunk. His stomach was grumbling, and his throat was parched. He had not eaten anything the whole day, but he had managed to drink some fill when he collected water for Gervas' wife from the stream that noon. He had had to make several trips to the stream and back to fill Gervas' water supply, carrying the heavy pails by using a wooden bar across his shoulders. He still felt like he couldn't walk straight ever again.

Beneath his hands, the tree was alive and strong as it softly sang to him a song of comfort. Legolas smiled despite his misery. At least the nature was still there for him, to witness his sorrow and hear his pain. And when an apple suddenly dropped from above to land on his lap not long after, he was not overly surprised.

Picking up the apple, Legolas raised his gaze and stared at the tree. Mysteriously, there was no other fruit in sight. It was not even a fruiting season. "Thank you," Legolas voiced out quietly. "Thank you so much."

The apple felt like heaven in Legolas' mouth. It tasted sweet and juicy. It sated him somewhat, even though his stomach still asked for more. But for now, he was content.

True to Budal's words, the man returned an hour later. It was already dark and stars began to appear in the sky. Legolas regretted not to be able to enjoy them tonight, knowing that his coming chore would keep him too occupied to notice anything else.

"Get up," Budal ordered. He then led the elf towards a small clearing beside Gervas' house. Next, Budal tossed the elf a shovel. "Dig!"

Legolas blinked, staring questioningly at the shovel in his hands.

"I said, dig!" Budal repeated with a shout. Shrugging, Legolas drove the shovel into the earth and started digging, wondering what exactly the hole was for.

Legolas dug all night, with his keepers watching him the entire time. They sat around, talking and laughing between themselves. Once in a while, they would yell at the elf to dig faster so they could get back to their wives and wenches. Legolas ignored their taunts and insults, keeping his ears deaf to every sound except for his own heartbeats.

When Budal told the elf to stop several hours later, there was a sizable trench on the ground. The hole was about five-feet long, three-feet wide and four-feet deep. Budal quickly snatched the shovel out of Legolas' hands before the elf could think to pummel him with it, not that Legolas had any strength left to do so.

But as Legolas made a move to climb out of the hole, Budal barked back at him, "Stay in there!"

Stupefied, Legolas could only stare at the man. "What?"

"You are not going anywhere else tonight, elf," Budal said. "From this night onwards, this is going to be your prison."

For a long moment, Legolas couldn't move, so shock he was with this sudden turn of events. "My…my prison?"

"This is where you sleep from now on." Budal turned when several men came forward carrying a heavy, steel door. "Ah, it's already here. Now, elf, keep your head down while we put it in place…"

With a cry of protest, Legolas suddenly leaped out of the hole. I won't let them keep me in that place! I won't!

As if already expecting the elf to react that way, Budal swung the shovel and slammed it against Legolas' face. Legolas staggered and fell back into the hole. His ears rang and his vision darkened as pain exploded in his brain. As he lay there in the dirt, writhing in agony, the men worked quickly above him to attach the steel door onto the hole.

When the men finished, all safety bolts were firmly in place and a big padlock completed the small prison. Laughing, patting one another in the back, the men then retreated towards home, leaving the elf to his living nightmare.

Inside the hole, Legolas was gasping and trembling in fright. He was in complete darkness, with nothing around him except for the dirt and soil and damp earth. Ever since he got trapped in his father's dungeon in Mirkwood as a child, Legolas had never liked the dark. To make it even worst was the cramp space. The hole was not big enough to accommodate his tall figure and long limbs. He had to bend himself at the knees and elbows, slouching down until his forehead nearly touched his chest. His only small relief was the tiny holes on the door, to let in some air so he would not suffocate. But it was still a place of absolute torture for a wood elf like him.

The pain didn't get to Legolas before. But the darkness truly sparked great terror in him, tearing at his will to shreds.

Losing it, Legolas screamed and screamed, banging desperately and hysterically at the heavy door above him. But no one came.

No one came…

TBC…