Dur En Thurin Naur : Here's a direct flight ticket bound for Kuala Lumpur, first class. Now get your butt on that plane and come here and kill my boss, pronto!
Enigma Jade : I like the image too. Eep! BDSM!
Itsuki Tachibana : Hug you back!
Karina : No, they won't bother to dress him again. What for? His body is too beautiful to hide!
Kayo : You, evil, you! LOL! Can't get enough of him naked, can you?
Legolas Greenleaf : Get use to the cliff, mate!
Sailor Elf : I am going to make you scream at the end of this chapter! You'll see how close you are, mellon. You are going to scream!
Deana : Are you still speechless? I'm afraid this chapter will make you faint. Be prepared.
Astalder27 : You can't be any of those women because all the parts have been taken—by me! Ha! Ha!
Szhismine : Holy crap indeed. It is a close call.
LegolasLover2003 : Karl Urban is in 'Bourne Supremacy'? Oh, I just can't wait! Imagine, a devil Eomer! Woo-hoo!
AbbiCat14 : Okay, girl, this is the longest review I've ever received! (Huggles huggles) Yeah, I guess you can say that I got the idea for that women-all-over-Leggy-scene from Leggy's fans out there and…oops. Did I say women? Sorry, I mean no offense but women do act that way around handsome and delicious superstars. Exhibit A; Orli. Exhibit B; Orli again. LOL!
Aranel of Mirkwood : I don't really like Button too. Well, he has talent, good looks, great bod, but…I don't know. He just doesn't attract me that way. And the words that mostly come out of his mouth are truly annoying! He's quite a snob, don't you think? As for Kimi getting married, I wished I were the bride! He! He!
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It was late afternoon that day, right before dusk, when a lone rider entered the village.
The villagers stared with awe and curiosity at the black-clad stranger. He was riding a beautiful white mare, his gloved hands gentle and sure at the reins. A long sword was strapped to his waist, while a long bow and a quiver of arrows were fastened to his back. From the way he dressed, the people deduced that he was a Haradrim warrior. He wore a turban on his head, with the long scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face so that only his deep blue eyes could be seen. And those eyes were not missing anything as he surveyed the people around him.
As the villagers murmured excitedly between them, impressed with his palpable charisma and the richness of his attire, the rider moved on until he reached the opened area of the market place. He reined in his mount and stared quietly at the naked figure who was hanging several feet off the ground from a wooden pole.
Legolas weakly raised his head when he sensed the stranger's eyes on him. His own silver eyes glinting, the elf met the stranger's gaze head on, daring the man to torment him like what the villagers had done to him all day.
As soon as Budal had strung him up to the pole that morning, the villagers wasted no time to punish the poor elf. They pelted him with stones and rotten vegetables, stabbed the sole of his feet with forks and knives until he bled, hit him with horsewhips until hundreds of welts covered his body. Expecting to hear the elf's scream of pain, some of them even cruelly yanked and pushed at the arrow shaft that was still buried in his wound until it snapped.
But Legolas never screamed. Not even once. His dignity might have been completely stripped off him, but he still had his honor and sheer force of will within him. The humans wanted him to beg and cry out for mercy. But stubbornly, Legolas held on to the last shred of his resolve, even if it would kill him in the end.
Legolas could no longer feel his arms after they had been stretched taut over his head for hours. But he could feel his legs, feel the throbbing pain in his wound. Without looking, he knew that blood was still dripping off his feet, turning the ground below him red. His entire body was on fire, and he realized that he was burning with fever. His head was heavy and his mind fuzzy, but still his spirit flared.
And that was what the stranger saw in the slave's slightly glazed eyes. Spirit. Unbroken even though defeated. Smiling behind his mask, the stranger turned when a man who walked with a slight limp quickly approached him.
Gervas eyed the stranger up and down, taking stock of the other man's obvious wealth and authority. This is not a simple man, he thought with admiration. This man is a noble warrior of the Haradrim.
"Welcome, stranger," Gervas greeted with a smile. "I am Gervas, the head of this village."
"And I'm called Rowan," the stranger replied in a deep rough voice, his head inclined to one side. "I'm pleased to finally meet you, Gervas. I've heard about you, the brave Easterling warrior who survived the War."
Gervas smiled with pleasure. "You did? Then I'm honored to hear that. I still miss the old days, when Haradrim and Easterlings alike rode together, neck to neck. We were good then. We were great."
His face grew sad a little. "Unlucky for us, we lost in that War. Our chieftain—my father—was killed, and I am left with this cursed limp, all because of that creature!" said Gervas, pointing at the hanging elf.
To his credit, Legolas didn't reply even when he had heard the entire exchange. He simply smiled crookedly back at them, totally unperturbed.
Pulling his gaze off the elf, Rowan nodded. "And is that why you punish him so?"
Gervas harrumphed, his hands unconsciously reaching up to pat the head of Rowan's mare. "That's the whole idea, but he is so stubborn! We made him our slave but Legolas can't be disciplined. He rebels a lot and starts to give us some headaches. Apart from killing him, we don't know what else to do to make him submit to us."
"Hmm." Rowan held his chin as he pondered. "What a coincidence."
Gervas looked up with interest. "What do you mean by that?"
Rowan glanced at Legolas and could see that the elf was carefully listening to every word they said. He smiled again before replying, "I travel out here from my home in the desert to look for my brother's murderer. They told me that my brother was murdered by an elf prince named Legolas. Is that him?"
Gervas eyes widened. His gaze snapped to and fro between them. "You are looking for him?" he asked, surprised.
Chuckling in reply, Rowan urged his mount to get closer to the elf. Legolas flinched slightly when the mare's snout nudged his belly. He kept his mouth shut even though he truly didn't know what Rowan was talking about. What brother? And when did I murder him? he wondered, glaring at the man of Harad.
"I still can't believe how lucky I am," Rowan muttered, gazing steadily at Legolas' white face. "This is so easy. I never thought I would find you this fast."
Turning back to Gervas, Rowan said, "I want him."
Gervas blinked. He exchanged glances with Budal and several other men who stood nearby. "You want him?" Gervas then asked Rowan, stupidly.
"Yes," Rowan responded. His right hand immediately went to a pouch tied to his belt. "Here, I'll give you some gold in exchange."
Gervas quickly caught the pouch that Rowan tossed at him. As his men curiously looked on, Gervas ripped the pouch open. True to Rowan's words, the pouch contained several gold nuggets, heavy in weight and value.
Oh, my. Gervas' eyes widened. I'm rich.
"It's still not enough?" Rowan asked when Gervas' stunned silence dragged on.
Gervas' mouth opened and closed repeatedly. Then he swallowed and finally able to croak, "No. I mean, yes! It's enough. In fact, it's more than enough. The elf is yours. Take him."
"Good. Then cut him down."
At Gervas' signal, Budal and the men hastened to the pole to release the elf. Not long after, Legolas dropped to the ground with a grunt, his head spinning and his injured leg screaming.
"Get on your feet, elf!" Budal growled, viciously kicking at Legolas' bare backside. "Now go to your new master!"
The elf winced from the blow but said nothing. He simply glared at the burly man as he painfully rose, wishing that they would meet again in different circumstances so he could kill him.
Gervas fished something out of his pocket and tossed it at Rowan. "Here are the keys to his manacles. But you need to think twice before you take the irons off him. I have to warn you, he is quite cunning. He will attack you the minute your back is turn."
Rowan nodded. "Don't worry. I know his kind. He will not get the better of me. I'll see to it."
Without a word, Legolas lifted his gaze and stared defiantly at the Haradrim.
"Are you going to kill him?" Gervas suddenly asked after he finished recounting the gold nuggets. He took an involuntarily step back when Rowan leveled his intense gaze at him.
"Kill him? Why should I kill the elf when he needs to be alive to suffer what I plan for him? Trust me, he will wish he were dead."
"Oh." Gervas blinked. "Very well. Good luck, then."
"I don't need luck, but thanks for wishing me that." Rowan chuckled. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to be on my way. A pleasure doing business with you, Gervas."
"Same here."
Rowan now focused his full attention on the elf. He barked, "Move it!"
After sending the Easterlings his final glare, Legolas turned and began to limp out of the village, Rowan riding on top of his mare not far behind him. The crowd was silent all around them, intently watching the passing of the Haradrim and his prisoner.
Gazing directly ahead, Legolas had his back ramrod straight, leaving the village with his pride still intact even though he was completely naked and in great pain, having been badly treated and deeply humiliated by the humans. He was still alive, that was the most important thing. As long as he still breathed, there was still a chance for him to return safely home—even if he had a valiant Haradrim warrior to go through. He would find a way to escape. Somehow.
Not long after, as they were entering the woods and the village had disappeared behind them, the Haradrim suddenly called out, "Stop!"
Legolas stopped walking, swaying unsteadily on his feet. His injured leg was killing him, and his body still hurt all over. He felt so lightheaded from pain and hunger he couldn't think straight, but he put himself on full alert when he heard Rowan dismounting behind him. His bleeding fists clenching, Legolas waited patiently for the Haradrim to come closer, all prepared to jump him.
When he felt Rowan's hand on his shoulder, Legolas quickly spun and brought his fists upwards, clouting his captor across the jaw. Rowan cried out in surprise and fell back. Without hesitation, Legolas made a lunge for the man's sword. Aware of the elf's intention, Rowan rolled and nimbly leaped to his feet, causing Legolas to grab only thin air.
"Legolas, stop!" Rowan cried out.
But the elf wasn't listening. Growling in anger and determination, Legolas whirled around and gathered his footing, facing the Haradrim once more. His eyes glinting with fury, Legolas leaped on full force, sending both of them on to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. They rolled around in the dirt, cursing and grunting, trying to pin the other down.
"Ai! Cease this, Legolas!" Rowan shouted again. "You have to listen to me!"
"I'll kill you!" Legolas yelled in reply, tightening his hands around Rowan's neck.
The stronger of the two, Rowan easily twisted until Legolas lay underneath him. "Peace, Legolas. You need to hear to what I have to say."
"No, I don't!" Legolas braced his knees against Rowan's stomach and kicked, sending the man stumbling off him. Getting back to his feet, Legolas was about to pounce upon Rowan again when the elf started to realize something.
The man's voice had suddenly changed, and it sounded eerily familiar.
Even his movements looked familiar.
And his eyes, those lovely cobalt blue eyes, also looked terribly familiar.
Rowan quickly snatched the turban and scarf off his head, fully revealing his face to Legolas' eyes. "Legolas, it's me!" he exclaimed. "I didn't come here to harm you. I came here to save you, to take you away from this place."
Legolas' entire body began to tremble, his head shaking in disbelief. He stumbled backwards, so shock he was at the sight in front of him. "No…this…this can't be…This is impossible…You…you are playing with me…whoever you are…"
"No, no, no!" Rowan moved closer and gripped Legolas' shoulders. "Look into my eyes, Legolas. Tell me what you see. Feel me. Breathe my scent. I'm not lying to you. It is me, unbelievable though it is."
Legolas gulped with difficulty. He truly wanted to believe what he was seeing, but he was afraid that the wonderful image would instantly disappear to be replaced by the same Haradrim who had just bought him from the Easterlings.
Still, he reached up uncertainly to run his hands through the long raven hair that had come tumbling over wide, strong shoulders—freed from the confinement of the turban. With a slight whimper, Legolas gently touched the delicately pointed ears, the aristocratic nose, the prominent cheekbones. Every contour of the handsome face was as familiar as his own features. He leaned closer and took a long sniff.
Instantly he knew. And he started to believe.
Valar! It is really him!
"K…Kel?" Legolas whispered tentatively, wishing like mad that he was not wrong.
Keldarion smiled as he lovingly stroked Legolas' temple. "Yes, little brother. It is I."
That proved too much for Legolas to take. His eyes rolled upward as he slumped, and would have hit the ground hard if Keldarion had not been able to catch him in time.
TBC…
Err…is that screaming I hear?
I'll be working outstation this weekend, so see you all next Monday!
