As always, thanks to my wonderful beta Sarah - I couldn't do this without you!
To my readers – you make me so very happy! To my reviewers – you make me happier still, for how else would I know that I have any readers?
Please note – I just discovered that I had something disabled such that some reviews were blocked. I've fixed that but now don't know how to thank those who review but don't provide a return address - please, please know how very much you are appreciated!
Please note too - this is a strange chapter – I'm struggling to make them a reasonable length and to do that, I wrote more - leave it to me to make something longer in order to make it shorter! The end result was a chapter of, for the most part, gratuitous violence. For those of you who dislike such a thing, please forgive - for those of you who don't – let the beatings begin!
Chapter 7
The Perfect Weapon
Gimli winced at the soft moan that sounded even above the baying of the Orcs but forced his muscles to remain relaxed. He could feel the pressure of the blade against his neck ease and the animal on his chest chortled as Legolas was dragged to his feet. The Elf hung limp between his captors, his chin resting against his chest. One of the creatures grabbed a handful of golden hair and jerked hard. Legolas' head snapped back. His eyes, however, remained tightly closed.
"Aw! It's dead," the Orc cried. "No fun for us," and he let loose of the Elf's hair. Legolas' head dropped heavily to his chest and he gave no indication that he was still in the world of the living.
"We'll see," said one of the ones holding up the Elf. Still gripping an arm, it stepped slightly in front of the archer. Gimli saw him pull his fisted claw back and a breath later, Legolas' scream rent the air as the fist made contact with the Elf's wounded side.
The Orc on Gimli's chest began to laugh, wildly. "Not dead!" he guffawed. "Not yet, but soon." It was all Gimli could do to hold himself still and not react to the scene playing out before him. There was absolutely nothing he could do right now, to change what was happening and letting the idiot Orc still holding a blade to his throat know that he was conscious would be giving away his only advantage, precious little of one though it might be.
Legolas' head hung limply again, the golden curtain of his hair hiding his features. But the Orcs were on to him. Once again, one yanked the Elf's head back while the one who had thrown the punch, wrenched the arm he still held, hard, snapping Legolas' body painfully forward, then back again. "Open your eyes, swine!" the creature snarled. "Open your eyes and look at me, or your friend there, gets his throat cut. Ya hear, me? Cut from ear to ear!"
Legolas' eyes flew open wide and immediately sought out the place on the forest floor where Gimli lay sprawled beneath his captor, focusing on the scimitar still pressed against the dwarf's neck. "No, don't!" he cried. Fear flashed across his face but was instantly extinguished, replaced with a blank look, once he saw that Gimli was still, for the most part, intact. It wouldn't take a creature with any brain, though, to know exactly how to control the archer, now. Gimli again repressed a shudder, this time of disgust that his lapse of attention had allowed this to happen, that he had put Legolas and yes, himself in mortal danger, though his well-being was secondary to the one he was honour bound to protect.
"I said look at me!" the Orc screeched, grabbing Legolas' chin and forcing the Elf's head up. The creature pushed his hideous face close, his foul breath fanning back the wisps of hair that had escaped the archer's braids. To Legolas' credit, he managed not to show any reaction at all as he took his time raising his eyes to meet the Orc's, the only way open to him to show any sort of defiance without ensuring painful punishment. He straightened and proudly tilted his head back, pulling against the Orc's grasping fingers, as he did. He, wisely kept his mouth shut, something Gimli found to be remarkable, knowing as well as he did how pushing the Elf usually earned the one doing the pushing a biting comment of some sort. Threat of imminent death, surely, had something to do with the Elf's sudden reticence, a weapon not having been in Gimli's arsenal during the last weeks' journey or he would most certainly have used it had he known that was all that was required to achieve the Elf's silence. But then he was reminded, brutally and painfully that it wasn't fear for his own life that held the Elf silent. Gimli knew, without a doubt, that he had become the perfect weapon that had earned that bitter reward - the perfect weapon that held the Elf not only silent, but also pliant and in dire circumstance, as well.
The Orc re-tightened his grip on Legolas' chin, even as the Elf attempted to pull away, forcing the archer's face closer, once again, and sneered. "Ah, pretty, Elf," he crooned. "So sad that you won't stay that way." Still holding the Elf securely by the chin, he began to stroke one filthy claw down the side of Legolas' cheek. Once – twice - three times the claw raked down the archer's sturdy jaw, each time digging a little deeper into the skin. By the forth time, it drew a line of blood along its path as it sliced deeply into the pale flesh. Legolas did not shudder or jerk once, remaining stoic and still as he stared, impassively, at the Orc. This only served to anger the brute. With a snarl, he stepped away and backhanded the Elf, hard, throwing his sizeable weight into the blow. Legolas' head snapped back and to the side, the Orc that still held tightly to his arm, the only thing keeping him on his feet. Before he could right himself, the Orc that Gimli now saw as the one in charge, once again grabbed the Elf's arm and then his chin, yanking his head back up. Legolas stood a little less straight, his head not held as high as before, and pain-filled eyes replaced the blank look. A trickle of blood from a split lip joined the river that was flowing from the deep cut running lengthwise down his cheek.
Thrusting his face forward again, the Orc paused, inches from Legolas'. "Ah, so pretty Elf," he crooned, again. His black tongue snaked out and followed the gash he had made on the Elf's cheek, licking the blood from the wound as he went, from top to bottom, pausing as he reached one corner of the Elf's mouth where blood had pooled from the cut, as well as from the Elf's bleeding lip. "So very pretty," he whispered. Placing his vile lips against Legolas' mouth, he began lapping at the blood that had collected there. It was too much for Gimli to hold in. Disgust, fury, fear – all three emotions raced through him at once and he could not control the tensing of his muscles. Just as Gimli recognized his mistake, however, Legolas, at last, reacted, rearing his head away from those seeking lips and began to struggle mightily against the hold his captors still had on his arms. He managed to break free from the Orc standing, surprised and unprepared before him, and swung a fist up, catching the foul creature on the side of the face, sending him crashing to the ground. The Orc on Gimli's chest tensed and Gimli felt the sharp, cold metal of a blade pressing against his throat again.
At first, Gimli had counted himself lucky that Legolas had managed to distract the creature from his tell-tale shudder. But now, as a warm trickle of his own blood flowed down both sides of his neck, the dwarf realized how very wrong he might have been – better to have been caught out being awake and aware than to have his throat slit – he wouldn't be helping anyone if that were to happen. But Legolas did nothing more, even though the worm that had been abusing him still lay sprawled helpless at his feet and the other Orcs looked unsure of themselves, now that their leader was incapacitated. Instead, the Elf's eyes once again snapped to where Gimli lay trapped on the ground. This time, he did not attempt to hide his terror. Giving only a passing glance at the scimitar held to Gimli's neck, this time, he quickly sought Gimli's eyes and seeing them open, his mouth dropped open in a silent gasp that Gimli ascribed to relief.
The battered Orc was slowly dragging himself to his feet, cursing and muttering words describing just what he was going to do to the Elf. Legolas' seemed not to hear, his eyes instead remained locked on Gimli's and all at once, a slight smile ghosted his lips. Gimli heard the words though. He held strong this time against the shudder that threatened as he grasped just exactly what sort of tortures the Orc intended for the Elf. Only a crazy Elf could smile at a time like this, he thought, focusing on that smile instead of the foulness coming from the Orc's mouth. The Elf must be deaf or addled. Given a choice and based on history, Gimli would have said addled.
The Orc had pulled himself, once more, to his feet. Already, the gnarled hand clawed at the Elf's chin, reaching, grasping, ready to force Legolas to bow to his will. Legolas gaze, however, remained trained on Gimli for the few moments left to him. All at once, just as the filthy claws found purchase and sunk again into the Elf's cheek - the archer winked.
Winked? Gimli blinked, rapidly, to clear his vision, not sure what he had just seen and wondering if perhaps the blow to his head was causing him to imagine things. When once again he was able to focus, Legolas soft smile and piercing blue eyes were gone, blocked out by the Orc's hulking body, as this time it chose to move directly in front of Gimli's line of sight. Blast! Double blast! He could see nothing of Legolas other than the golden glint of the top of his head as it reflected the fading light of the late afternoon sun, leaving Gimli to wonder if he had truly imagined it or if the Elf, had, indeed, winked at him. And what on Middle Earth did it mean, if he had? Addled. That was what the Elf was, he thought again. Perhaps Legolas was the one hallucinating after receiving one too many blows to his own head?
But then it came to Gimli just as it had that moment in the tree, a moment that had sent him reeling, almost over the side. A bond had formed once between them, a bond that he had not understood and had not seemed to have lasted, yet, it was once again here and now. He felt it, knew what that look meant even without words to explain and he was ready, ready for whatever plan the Elf had in mind, as crazy as it was sure to be. Perhaps, they were both more than just a little addled and that, no doubt was what would be required to get them out of this mess. He could see the Orc standing before Legolas, draw back his fist again. The sound of air whooshing from the Elf's lungs underscored that the fist had found its victim. Pain-filled gasps followed the sound and Gimli's heart clenched in his chest. Whatever Legolas had in mind, he had better do it quick, Gimli thought.
"Do it again!" the Orc on Gimli's chest howled. There was an accompanying baying from the rest of the foul group, again reminding Gimli of wolves taking up the call as they surrounded their prey just before a kill. Legolas must have made some sort of move, most likely a slump forward, for the leader Orc's hand went up again and he fumed, "Oh no, you don't!" At the same time he readied his fist, once more, to strike. "You stay awake, pretty Elf. We have plans for you!" he cackled. Only this time, the arm never extended, never made it to the Elf's unprotected ribcage. Instead, A scream cut through the still evening air and the creature before Legolas jerked backward and fell to the ground, revealing an arrow dripping with blood, held tightly in the Elf's outstretched hand, the shaft of which was invisible, shoved neatly up the Elf's sleeve. The arrow was immediately plunged into the surprised Orc still holding onto the Elf's arm and another cry rent the air. Gimli lost no time bucking the oblivious creature on his chest off onto the dirt and regaining his feet, he stomped one heavily booted foot into the Orc's solar plexus. While the Orc screamed in pain, he located his axe and with one fell strike, removed the shrieking creature's head from its shoulders.
The remaining goblins began to come out of their stupor as they realized at last that they were under siege, that the pursuers had become the pursued. There were only three left standing. They all three decided to attack the Elf, knowing that he had taken several hard blows already. But Legolas was beyond surprising. The bloody arrow was still in his hand even after taking out two foes. He danced away from the grasping creatures with a grace that belied his dire condition, moving straight for the bow that had landed with one end in the dirt. Gimli, clutching his axe, dashed forward too, shouting a battle cry as he did, hoping to draw the creatures' attention. They looked back and forth between Dwarf and Elf, as if calculating their odds of success. Gimli leapt forward, not giving them a chance to decide that neither was a good bet, choosing instead to run. The last thing he wanted was three Orcs dashing about the woods, notifying any others of their kind that there was a solitary Elf and Dwarf around, ripe for the picking.
His sudden movement was enough to sway their internal argument and they lost interest in the Elf, surging forward to meet Gimli's attack. Gimli swung wide and high and connected with a satisfying thud against the first hapless creature. But there were two left and he would have to quickly choose which would be the recipient of his second swipe, deciding in the blink of an eye which would be the most dangerous and which could he dodge most easily. He misjudged. He knew it just as soon as he took his first step in the direction of the chosen Orc. The one he had judged less able moved with a swiftness that he had never seen in one of their kind. It had its arm wrapped about Gimli's head in little more than a breath and once again, Gimli could see the gory edge of an Orc sword coming at him from the corner of his eye.
