A cold silence filled the room briefly, before Legolas' soft voice broke the silence, intertwining with the darkness that surrounded the group.
"I suppose the beginning is a glad a place to start as any… My brother, Ithil, and I volunteered to carry a message to Lord Elrond. At last, my father allowed us to carry out this task. We left in high spirits, leaving the shadow of Mirkwood behind to cross over the Misty Mountains. This pass was the quickest way to achieve our destination and the message was urgent. We were reckless and unaware of our surroundings… I regret this more than all else…"
Flashback
"Legolas, will you not be silent! I am going to treat your wound whether it is in your tastes to or not! Lord Elrond, I'm sure, will forgive us this slight delay, brother."
Legolas sat rigidly against a sheer rock face, his eyes closed as his brother wrapped a bandage tightly around his arm.
"Thank you," said Ithil, gratefully, as Legolas did not respond. "I still do not understand how those Orcs crept up on us without our awareness!" snapped the dark-haired elf regretfully. "I wish we had not let that one Orc disappear without our noticing. For all we know, it could be bringing an army of Orcs and we would never know it!"
"I would that I had killed the Orc myself, had the other one not just slit my arm," murmured Legolas. "I fear that Elrond's message cannot be hindered in any way. As long as Lord Elrond is unaware of his new alliances, he is in grave danger. I wish you would not waste time worrying about my arm, Ithil. We shall be there soon enough and Lord Elrond may tend to me himself."
The darker haired elf glanced up at Legolas. "I am done anyway. Let us continue on; I fear the silence that has descended upon this mountain is not entirely kind in its nature."
The two elves stood up. Belatedly, they realized that their horses had been killed with their even realizing it. They froze, scanning their surroundings. A silent arrow abruptly shot through the air, piercing Legolas' leg. Ithil reacted immediately, tearing his sword from its sheath. "Legolas!"
"I'm fine, Ithil!" snapped Legolas, wincing as he struggled to pull the arrow free from his leg. A barrage of arrows shot from behind them and they both dropped to the ground. A quick glance confirmed the white hand of Saruman. The barrage seemed to be coming from both sides now, with only one small opening for the two elves to escape through.
Legolas, in frustration with his inability to fight, tore the arrow from his leg, eliciting a sharp yell of pain that he thought he would have been able to keep silent. Alerted to their presence, the Orcs that seemed to have come from no where charged forward.
"Ithil, please go," pleaded Legolas, desperately. "They were obviously sent for us. Elrond needs to know!"
"No!" spat Ithil. Lifting his brother in his arms, Ithil made a desperate run for the opening, but the Orcs saw and closed the opening in their ranks. Hopeless, he put Legolas down and began frantically shooting off arrows, using his brother's bow. Five orcs went down; the circle closed in on the brothers. "Valar, no…" cried Ithil, as he saw Legolas' eyes begin to close.
The Orc nearest to the pair began to speak softly, almost reassuringly. "Which one of you is to go free?" he asked. "Which one?"
"He is!" said Ithil loudly, not believing that the Orcs would even allow this. He struggled to see through the darkness, but found that his night vision was completely gone.
Legolas struggled to open his eyes, to fight. The Orc laughed. "Two pretty princelings and both of them to kill… what should we do?"
The Orc beside him nodded his head to Ithil. "Let that one go free, so that he may carry his message to his leader."
Legolas shook his head… why would they do that?
The Orc who had seized him now agreed with the other, grinning horribly.
"NO!" shrieked Ithil, clawing at the Orcs that seized him. "Legolas, no!"
Legolas' last memory was of the Orcs casting Ithil aside. As his brother attempted to follow, to save him, the Orcs laughed and shot an arrow into his torso. His brother's shrieks of retribution were cut short. The elf fell to the ground.
Legolas stared in horror before his world went black.
Darkness.
When Legolas woke, it was to asphyxiating, choking, unholy darkness. He despairingly cast his gaze about the darkness, knowing his eyes were open but seeing nothing. Had he lost his sight along with his freedom?
A distant pale light reached him, illuminating, somewhat, his surroundings. Dark stains covered the stone walls and floor. Though the darkness seemed to make everything endless, Legolas realized that if he reached out with both hands, his appendages hit both wallls. The distant sound of the falling of feet reached his hearing. Unconsciously, he felt himself moving backwards to press his body against the farthest wall from the bars as he felt fear unexpectedly rise up in him.
The footfalls drew nearer and suddenly the body came into view.
A soft voice cut through the darkness, almost seductive, though it could not possibly be described as such.
"I do hope you find your accomodations suitable, prince. I'm afraid the... master suite was taken."
Legolas restrained himself from spitting at the wizard's feet, just to show his contempt. However, he could not refrain from the venemous words of sarcasm that fell from his mouth. "Nay, they are quite lovely. I personally love what you've done with the walls, really personal touch. Almost as repulsive as yourself. However, fear not, my lord, I'm sure you'll take home the prize at the end of the day."
Saruman laughed. "You have a sharp tongue, prince. Perhaps we shall put it to better use later."
This time, Legolas could not restrain himself. Practically snarling, he jerked forward, spitting at the wizard.
"The cat has claws," mocked Saruman. "How courageous of you to come forward to me, prince. I wonder if you will be so lively after you realize this will become your home, your life--your death, if you so choose. I do hope so. I find after the light disappears from their eyes, prisoners are no longer nearly as fun to taunt, to torture... after they realize that the blood coating the walls and floor belongs to them." He paused. "I hear elves bleed quite refusely, my prince. I, however, have not had the honour of making one bleed myself. Perhaps later you will allow me?" The wizard laughed again, a cold sound that was swallowed quickly by the darkness. "Well, unfortunately, our pleasantries must be cut short. As I know your are infamous for your obstinacy, I will spare you the interrogation and allow you to go straight to the torture!"
Dark forms suddenly came into view behind Saruman. Legolas, belatedly realizing what was going to happen to him, attempted to fall back into the darkness of his cell. Too late. The door swung open and he was grabbed by two hulking forms. Legolas began to fight, but realized it was useless. He had no where to go. He was trapped here in this desolate mad-house of torture.
Saruman's last words echoed out after him, staying in his mind long after he was gone from his presence.
"Now you will bleed."
The light in the room was extremely bright in contrast to his cell. No, I will not call it mine! some part of Legolas protested.
Instruments of torture seemed to cover the room and the large slab of rock in the middle of the room was coated with blood, vomit and what smelled like urine. Legolas, nauseated, was dragged and thrown onto the table. His hands and feet were manacled as he was immobilized. Stark terror welled up in his heart as he fought the urge not to vomit. The Orcs that had brought him jaggedly cut through his tunic, ripping it from his body and leaving him feeling very vulnerable.
A figure clothed entirely in black with a mask that had slits only for his eyes and a ghastly slit across the mouth seemed to glide toward him. Legolas felt his body go rigid.
From somewhere in its cloak, the figure procured a small blade. Terror suddenly roared in his ears like thunder, a great rolling wave that seemed to overcome all of his senses. He pressed his back far into the stone slab, unconsciously attempting to get as far away as he could from the evil being. He knew not what to expect, but he feared it greatly. The unknown screamed in his mind, shrieking for clarity for freedom. The elven prince struggled to control his breathing, his heart beat. He could not be defeated. Though Saruman had yet to ask what he needed from the prince, Legolas knew he could never give it to him.
"Leave," hissed the being. The orcs sank from view, disappearing into the dark vastness of Legolas' stone prison.
The small blade made the first incision across the prince's torso. A small, angry crimson line stood finely against his pale skin. And then another. And another. And another. The sordid scarlet pattern slowly drew itself across its ivory canvas.
"Ah! It seems you will live, Thranduillion!" said a joyful voice that Ithil connected with that of Lord Elrond.
But how did I...?
"Elladan and Elrohir found you lying beside the river!"
Ithil wondered if he had said that aloud.
"You're lucky they found you when they did! How long did you travel with such greivous wounds, prince? How come you to gain those wounds in the first place?"
Memory returned to Ithil sharply. He jerked up in his bed, eliciting a cry from himself. "Ai... Elrond, it is Legolas, they have taken him!"
Elrond's jaunty tone disappeared along with the slight smile on his face. "Who, Ithilden?"
"The Orcs... Saruman..." mumbled Ithil, as black dots danced before his eyes. "I can't... I can't... remember anymore..."
"Ithilden!" said Elrond sharply. "Stay with me now, just a few more moments. How do you come to suspect Saruman? He is and has, indeed, long been an ally long to us."
"...what we were coming to tell you, my lord.. Saruman has turned from the light... he consorts... with the Necromancer... Legolas..."
"We'll find him, Ithil, worry not. You need rest now. Sleep."
The prince of mirkwood did just that. He reluctantly closed his eyes as he drifted into oblivion.
Elrond stood up, his movements slightly jerky. "Valar, no..." He quickly left the room to send a missive to Thranduil. Dark thoughts surrounded his mind as he ignored the elf standing beside the door, waiting to speak with him.
His entire body was shuddering now with the effort to keep silent. His entire chest was now covered with thin streaks of blood and the disgusting slab that he had been placed on was now red with his own blood. He had been put face down, so that the being could do the same torture to his back and when that had been finished, the being has started on his arms. The chill of the room had entered his wounds. With each shudder, the blade went slightly off, causing even more pain. Legolas did not know how much longer he could keep this up.
The door abruptly swung open, slamming against the wall. Legolas jerked, causing the blade to pierce through his skin and muscle. The being angrily jerked it out. Crimson life-force pulsed from the larger wound. Try though he might, the prince could not cease from shuddering, though he loathed the thought that Saruman had won.
"You may leave," dismissed Saruman, coldly. The being continued its ministrations, blood lust seeming to exude from his very existence. "Now!" snapped the wizard. An aura of power surrounded him and Legolas could feel it being exerted towards his torturer. With an angry hiss, the being left the room.
Saruman smiled. "You must forgive me, highness. My... servants are far to eager to please sometimes."
Legolas said nothing, knowing that his voice would come out as raw as the terror that oozed from his body. He shuddered violently, chafing his wrists and ankles against the manacles. Saruman reached out and almost seemed to caress the prince's torso. His hand left a bloody streak across his chest. The wizard almost seemed to admire the blood. "So it seems true! Elves do bleed most marvelously!" He idly walked around the prince, breathing in deeply. "It seems you lost your fire after only a little bit of pain, my prince. I hope you do not always break so easily. This can end at any point you wish. You just have to answer my questions."
"Never!" Legolas tried to snap. However, it came out shuddering like his body, and instead of being a cry of defiance, it seemed to be more of a plea to the Valar--to anyone listening.
Saruman laughed again. "Ognak!" he snapped. An Orc entered the room. It saw Legolas and grinned horribly. "Return him to his cell! I think he needs some more time to think." The Orc released Legolas from the manacles before grabbing him roughly and jerking him off the stone slab. Legolas cried out as his abused body hit the ground. Infuriated with himself, he clenched his jaw shut as Ognak began to drag him from the room. His last thought before succumbing to the darkness was one of ultimate despair.
He would never be free again.