This chapter is rated M just to be safe because of a really small torture scene and gruesomeish battle scene. You have been warned! If you are young [ten or under], weak hearted, easily scared or have parents looking over your shoulder then there is a summery at the bottom of the page with the authors notes and explanations. This chapter has been written in third person to make it easier on me.
So sorry for not updating and I hope you enjoy this chapter [if you're reading it]
Chapter 6
The sound of shouts and screams reverberated deep into the bowels of Dol Guldur. An elf, looking to be ten years from majority was restrained between two orcish generals as they pushed him up the stairs, following closely behind were ten other orcs, one carrying a torch. The elf really had no need for restraints, limp and weak as he was. Dirty white hair hung in tatters as it framed a hollow and weary face marred with bruises, remnants of vicious beatings. His clothes, if they could be called clothes, torn as they were and stained with blood from frequent lashings. The most noticeable feature, and perhaps the most chilling, was his eyes. Once silver, full of fire and spirit, had gone as dull, cold and black as the stones that had imprisoned him for thirty five years. Those were the eyes of someone dangling between the line dividing sanity from madness, and leaning ever slightly towards madness.
Legolas son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood had been broken…the once fiery spirit doused to a mere coal when the shadowy one striding ahead of the group had returned to his tower. Now Legolas remembered naught, not the sound of the wind in the trees or the kind smile framed by a golden halo. Not even the crystal hanging around his neck in its white cocoon, not even his name. The Legolas of old was gone, buried under what seemed an eternity of hideous tortures that defied description. What the necromancer had left was a shell, nothing less and nothing more, and yet the child still breathed. His heart was still beating inside his chest, and somewhere, deep inside the broken body, a cinder of a soul was waiting for a breath of hope.
Yet no hope existed here.
A powerful voice rang out through the darkness, seeming to shake the very foundations of the dark tower, making the orcs flinch and cower. "Come out Sauron!" The powerful voice went, "Face what thou hast reaped in thy quest of evil!"
The necromancer smirked before throwing open the doors to his keep, letting the light stream in.
The elf gasped as the light burned his darkness accustomed eyes, immediately shutting them in an effort to stop the sharp, searing pain. Yet as the suns caressed the face of one so long gone that others thought him in Mandos, a glimmer of hope wormed its way into the soul sheltered within.
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Doron unsheathed his long knife and shoved it into the stomach of an Easterling, ignoring the hot entrails that spilled out to steam on the forest floor as he removed the blade to decapitate an orc. He wiped a hand over his eyes, ignoring the smear of gore, as he searched the writhing mass of bodies for his Adar, spotting him surrounded by several of the royal guard as they cleaved their way through the orcs.
Good, it would not do for his Adar to die and leave Doron and a pregnant Vanriel all alone.
An Imaldrin warrior screamed his agony as an orc literally ripped the elf's heart out with the cruel metal contraption the warriors of Mirkwood were so accustomed to. Doron grimaced and averted his eyes, continuing to defend himself and to kill as many orcs as he could. He ducked, barely avoiding decapitation, he swung his knife upwards, shoving it into his attackers, an orcs, ribs, releasing a spray of black blood to water the ground.
Mithrandir raised his staff, a brilliant light shot from the tip and into the air, startling both armies into halting their battle. "Come out Sauron!" he roared, startling the cowardly orcs to run for the safety the dark tower represented lest the wizards wrath fall upon there heads. "Face what thou hast reaped in thy quest of evil!"
Doron made his way over to his Adar in a kind of stupor, although he had enough presence of mind not to slip on the pools of blood dotted throughout the battlefield. We're really doing it, he thought. We're challenging the darklord.
"Adar", Doron began but got no further. Both elves turned and stared as the massive iron doors of Dol Guldur were thrown open and out strode the darkest elf either had seen. This of course was Sauron the deceiver, the necromancer and all that was evil and chaos. Following behind were what could pass as generals for orcs, although there was not much difference, draggin a pathetic bundle between them It was quite clearly an elf.
Doron felt the breath leave him as he beheld one who had been trapped and tormented in the bowels of the dark tower.
The Necromancer spoke then, addressing the army of elves. "Attack oh mighty woodland king and see your child slain before your very eyes".
Thranduil thrust his chin out in defiance while Doron stared at the elfling in disbelief. "That poor elf is no child of mine", Thranduil said calmly, "For my son was killed years ago and now resides in Mandos".
Doron thought that the Dark lord would flee now his bluff had been called. Therefore he was shocked when the evil lord through back his head and laughed. When he was done Sauron spoke once more. "Oh how stupid thou art, King Thranduil", his voice was mocking in its deliverance and everyone save Mithrandir flinched "I present to you", he continued, "Legolas son of Thranduil whom my orcs captured and brought to this place".
One of the orcs following behind the generals was carrying a torch although none could fathom the use of it. Thranduil suddenly paled as he was faced by the realisation that the broken creature could indeed be the son he had thought to be dead for so many years. In that moment Thranduil remembered the dream he had had before he had been awoken by Vanriel.
Doron felt as though he had been crushed so great was his despair, even if Thranduil still haboured doubts born of denial, his eldest knew that the child was his brother. Felt it in the vey core of his being.
Sauron wrenched the child's head up, revealing the gaunt and bruised face for the inspection of all. "Do you not recognise your son, Thranduil?" he jeered and indeed the child was the very image, white hair aside, of the King's late wife.
Doron glanced at his father, sure that he would save the child now that he had been revealed as Legolas, but his father's face only held uncertainty.
Sauron gave a nasty smirk. "No words Elven King? Maybe this will help you decide". And with that Sauron grabbed Legolas's hand and thrust it into the fires of the torch. Legola scremed in agony, his body jerking as the skin blackened and began to peel. Doron closed his eyes as his stomach threatened to spill from his mouth; it was no use, as he could smell the cooking flesh from here. At last Sauron released the hand and the boy cradled it to his chest, sobbing and choking on his breath.
Doron turned pleading eyes to his father. "Adar, please", he begged.
Thranduil shuddered and opened his mouth to call a retreat, only to be stopped by a hand from Elrond. "You can not give up now, Thranduil", the Half elf said in a reasonable sounding tone.
"But my son-"
"If we let Dol Guldur stand then many shall suffer. Its for the good of the many, Thranduil".
Don't you mean for the good of your people you coward, Doron spat in his mind. You were never concerned for us until you learnt how close to breaking point we were. We Sylvan's have been fighting this war for millennium; a few more years won't hurt in the grand scheme of things. And besides, the elf up there is my little brother.
Thranduil shuddered again in visible anguish before giving a tiny nod. Elrond smiled and called the order to charge and Doron gave a soul shattering scream as an orc dragged his knife across his brothers pale throat, releasing an arcing spray of blood into the air.
"No!" Doron yelled and launched himself at the elf lord, "Curse you! He was my brother!" Elrond easily caught him since Doron's eyes were blinded by tears. Thranduil's eldest snarled and ripped away from the elf-lord, staggering through the battling Orcs and elves, heedless of Sauron's flight from Mithrandir. The whole world had narrowed down to Legolas lying crumpled on the ground, forgotten. Doron collapsed to his knees beside his brother and gathered the ridiculously small frame into his arms as he sobbed onto the cold chest. Doron avoided looking at the gaping slit in the child's throat and the blackened hand, something's should be avoided by grieving relatives.
"Oh Legolas", he sobbed.
Ba-bump
Doron started and pulled his head away, wondering if he had finally gone mad. But as he put is head to Legolas's chest again, hardly daring to hope, he realised he hadn't.
Ba-bump
Doron sat upright, making himself gaze at the dreadful wound. Valar the hadn't! Had they?
Ba-bump
The orc, bless his mindless numbskull and curse him to the void, had missed the jugular vein.
Ba-bump
Legolas was still alive.
Doron tore his tunic to shreds and twining the strips around the fragile neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding, all the while shouting for help. As he worked, Doron realised became aware of the steady rise and fall of Legolas's chest, chiding himself for missing it beforehand.
Ba-bump
A shadow fell across the brothers and Doron jerked his hand towards his knife only to relax as he became aware that it was no orcs, just Thranduil an Elrond.
Doron ignored them both, knowing another round of kinslaying would commence if they so much as breathed too loud.
"He's alive", Thranduil breathed.
Really? I hadn't noticed, thankyou for stating out the obvious now why don't you get lost? Doron thought.
Ba-bump
Elrond knelt beside the prone form, not oblivious to Doron's bristling anger and protectiveness. "He needs healing", the half-elf explained and raised his hands in peace.
Doron nodded warily and made room for the half-elf. Elrond knew that Doron was watching his every move and if the elf perceived the slightest threat to his brother Elrond was under no doubts as to what Doron's dagger would be used for. Behind them Thranduil stood frozen in shock.
Ba-bump
Elrond nodded to Doron reassuringly before getting out his herbs and beginning to tend to his delicate patient, knowing that with every minute wasted Lgolas's chance of survival dwindled.
Ba-bump
End part 1
Summary for chapter: Sauron uses Legolas as leverage against the attacking forces of Imaldris, Lothlorien and Mirkwood. Thranduil does not retreat and an orc cuts Legolas's throat. The orc misses Legolas's jugular vein and so he survives, but for how long?
Authors notes: And so ends part 1. Part 2 titled 'Bond of Brothers' will be posted whenever I get around to it, hopefully soon. Thankyou all for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Here is a little snippet of Bond of Brothers.
Doron spun around and shoved Thranduil into a wall; holding is father there with one strong hand.
"What possessed you to say that to Legolas?" Doron spat.
Thranduil glowered at his son, incredulous at Doron's defiance. He struggled but with no small amount of shock realised his son was a fair bit stronger then he and that he was unable to free himself from Doron's iron grip.
"Don't you dare go near Legolas or I swear Adar, King or not, I will bring you before the Sylvan elders for trial", Doron continued, voice hard. "Stay away from me and mine brother and stick to your precious new women and son".
Thanks all for reading and please review.