*looks timidly at readers* Hello. Wow, it has been over a year since I last updated this story. I am truly sorry for the long wait. But real life and a huge writer's block kept me from continuing. When I continued I felt my writing lacking and stopped again. It took me a few months to try again. Also I thought that most people had forgotten this story and that there was no one out there who would read it. I was proved wrong when I got a review this weekend, asking me to continue. Well, I got my hopes up that this story is not completely forgotten.
I dug into my computer files and recycled this chapter and then tried again. The result is this chapter and I really want to hear what you think. I know that it cannot compete with the older chapters, but I hope that you still like it. Let me know, please! *smiles*
I really really plan to finish this story soonest. Your encouragement and reviews (hint hint) would definitely help with that. :) Now, have fun with the newest chapter of "The curse of the dragon".
Words in italics are conversations in elvish.
Chapter 7: Coming to the rescue…or not
Four days. It had been four days and still Legolas had heard nothing from the kidnappers. No word, no letter, just nothing at all. Day and night Legolas waited in his room, staring at the walls, pacing, sitting absolutely still or cursing each and every single one of the men that had taken Aragorn away from him. The uncertainty of not knowing what had happened to Estel was making him sheer crazy!
During those horribly long four days that his lover had been taken away from him, Legolas had barely eaten, and only when his thirst had reached almost hurting levels had he drunken. Never did he leave his room, fearing that just in the few minutes that he was gone, the kidnappers would try to contact him. What if the men came back and he was not in his room? What if they thought that he had abandoned Estel? The thought what the kidnapers would do in such a situation was too terrible for Legolas to even think about.
On the second day after the kidnapping, the first grey clouds began to slowly sail across the lake from the North. The sky turned into a mosaic of brilliant blue sky and grey clouds, making the lake glimmer here, and dull and dark there. Now, on the fourth day, the sky was a total mass of grey clouds, mounting high and looking foreboding. The wind picked up over the day, making the smaller vessels shoot across the lake, and Legolas knew that it was only a matter of time until the storm he had predicted would waltz over the town.
Now, with the darkness of night slowly gathering outside, Legolas felt as if the weight of whole Arda was pressing down on his shoulders. Four days already and he had no word of Estel. What if the his young lover was not even alive anymore? Legolas's stomach revolted at the thought, and had there been food in it, Legolas was sure he would have retched.
Estel was a ranger and by no means helpless. He had experienced captivity before and knew that opposing his captors would more likely than not only result in pain and torment. But, Legolas mused wryly, that had never stopped Estel from getting on the nerves of his captors as much as possible. The young man had the uncanny ability to insult and infuriate everyone around him if he wanted to. Why, Estel would even be able to make Mithrandir throw a tantrum!
When the last rays of the sun vanished behind the mountains and the lake was bathed in a deep black, Legolas closed his eyes and turned on his side on the bed. Another day had passed and still no sign that the kidnappers would contact him anytime soon. While he lay in the gathering darkness, images of what the captors could have done to Estel tormented him, and Legolas barely suppressed a sniff. When had his heart began to hurt that much? Not often in his long life had Legolas felt his heart ache with such a terrible pain.
Lying on the bed that still smelled of his friend, hugging a pillow close to him, Legolas barely registered the time that flew by. Neither did he hear the sounds of music and laughter that floated up to his room from the crowd below in the inn. So immersed was he in his thoughts of doom, that he was jostled awake by the timid knock on the door. His head flew around so quickly he cracked his neck. With a fluid motion he grabbed his long knives from the bedside table. Finally….
Rushing silently to the door, Legolas grabbed the handle with one hand and raised the knives with the other. After taking a deep breath, he threw the door open, ready to attack, should it be necessary. When his eyes fell on the person standing in front of him, his eyes widened slightly before he frowned suspiciously.
"Aye?"
--oOo--
Aragorn took a deep breath, let it out slowly, waited a moment, and then took another deep breath. He was lying on his side in the small boat, his head resting on the rather cold planks. His dark hair hung in sweaty locks around his face, plastered to his temples. His shirt was not faring any better, sticking to his chest and back, drenched with sweat. He exhaled slowly, feeling his dry lips protest the movement slightly, before he took another deep breath.
For four days he had been caught in the small storage room of the boat, with nothing but his thoughts as company. Every evening one of his captors visited him, gave him a few pieces of stale bread and let him drink from a cup of lukewarm water. The food and water he was receiving were not nearly enough to satisfy his hunger and thirst. Aragorn was sure that he would have difficulty standing on his own for a prolonged period of time. If he could stand at all, that was, given the fact that he had not been able to stand or stretch properly for four days now.
Every time his kidnappers came to him, Aragorn tried to speak with them, asking them questions, but he received no answers. Instead, the men glared at him, tightlipped. By now, Aragorn knew that it was pointless to ask questions. These men would not talk to him.
Releasing another deep breath, Aragorn suppressed a dry cough, wincing when his head pounded painfully. He was so thirsty…. Over the days, the air in the small space he was currently residing in had constantly risen in temperature, and it was now so warm in the boat that Aragorn could feel the sweat roll off of him in rivulets. Only the fact that the water surrounding the boat was cold and therewith cooling the planks, gave Aragorn the chance to bear the heat at all. More than once the thought that he was lying in a wooden coffin that was slowly burning to ashes flittered through his mind. At least his stomach had stopped complaining after the first day in the belly of the boat.
The few minutes that the hatch to the storage room was opened every day was not enough to air the room. It was so stuffy that Aragorn had trouble catching his breath, and his lungs felt as if with every breath he took, not air but warm water filled them. So, his head was pounding from lack of water and fresh air, his legs were hurting from lack of use, and to top matters off, his shoulders were killing him. Aragorn had not managed to free his wrists from the rough cord they were bound with, and he knew that it would be pointless, anyway. The moment his kidnappers saw that he had freed himself, they would simply tie him up again.
There really was nothing that Aragorn could do to improve his situation. His hope to be freed soon had carried him through the first day, his anger through the second and his dark thoughts of retribution through the third. But now, weakened and feeling absolutely miserable, he could find nothing to concentrate his thoughts on that would make him feel any better. So, he concentrated on his breathing, hoping that filling his lungs with enough air would at least diminish the pounding in his head. So far, it had not helped any.
Of course, his mind was constantly with Legolas, but it only depressed him immensely and made him worry incredibly. Was Legolas all right? What would his friend do if the kidnappers did not contact him? Would Legolas think that something even more sinister had happened to him? And what would Legolas do when the kidnappers contacted him? Aragorn hoped that the elf would not do something stupid, but he knew his lover good enough to know that Legolas was easy to rile in situations like these. He was, after all, the son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood.
Taking another deep breath, Aragorn felt his thoughts return to the topic that had captured his attention most of these four days. WHY oh why had these men taken him captive? What did they want from Legolas? Aragorn was by now sure that these men were no slave traders or mere killers. They could have sneaked up on him in the stable and killed him then and there. They could have forced the elf to go with them willingly; taking him, Aragorn, was bait. No, they must have planned something else. Something for which they needed Legolas's cooperation.
But, for the life of him, Aragorn could not imagine what that was. What would these men need an elf for?
Suddenly, Aragorn heard the unmistakable sound of the oars of a vessel. Listening, he could hear the waves brake on wood, and a few moments later his boat was shaken gently. It bobbed for a few moments as it was secured to another boat, and then dipped deeper into the water when a man boarded it.
Grudgingly, Aragorn rolled onto his back, gazing at the dark spot on the ceiling where he knew the hath was located. His mouth was dry and sweat poured off his brow; his whole body longed for the hath to be opened, so that cold night air could stream in. And, if he was honest with himself, he was really looking forward to the visit of his captors, for it meant water and something to eat.
The small boat bobbed unsteadily on the waves and the sound of the ticktack of metal chains reached Aragorn's ears. The bolt that held the hatch closed was removed and a moment later, the porthole opened with a creaking sound. Cold air streamed into the stuffy room. Aragorn instinctively filled his lungs with the fresh air, unheeding of the pain this caused his dry throat. For a tiny moment he closed his eyes and let the cool air wash over his hot face. But only a moment later he opened them again to glare at the face that appeared in the opening above him. It was another man this time, Aragorn realized, not the red haired one. This one was bearded, the one who had pressed a knife to his neck in the stable and threatened Legolas.
The man leered down at him, his face barely more than a bright speck against the dark background. "Time to leave, ranger." The bearded man disappeared from the opening, but Aragorn could still hear his voice. He was giving orders, "Rory, Willie, get him out of there and on board of The White Gull. Nibs, secure the boat!"
Aragorn's stomach clenched in expectancy. So this was it, he thought. The time of waiting was over. He knew not whether he was glad that his time inside his small prison was over, of fearful that now the time had come when things would get ugly. For ugly, they always did. Those men were no saints, and whatever they had planned for Legolas and him could not be good. But still, Aragorn mused when he felt the boat dip deeper into the water when the two men got on board, everything is better than being held captive in this small, hot, confined space. 'And', he thought with no little pleasant anticipation, 'I will see Legolas again.'
A moment later, a small ladder was towed down into the room. The man called Willie clambered down, his face already red and sweaty. He stared down at Aragorn, his eyes unmoving. In his hand, he held a knife. "Just to make this clear, ranger," he threatened, "if you make one false move, I will gut you like a fish." Aragorn made no move, and after a moment the man put the knife away. With one quick movement, he flipped Aragorn around so that he lay on his stomach. His shoulders protested the act and pain shot through them. Suppressing a grunt of pain, Aragorn pressed his forehead against the planks. Why did ruffians always have to be so rude? While he tried to manage the pain, Willie secured a long rope at the cord that already bound his wrists. "To make sure that you don't try to flee, ranger." He said, grinning.
Together with the man called Rory, Willie heaved Aragorn up the ladder and onto the deck of the small vessel. His legs, unused for days, would not support Aragorn's weight, and had it not been for the strong arms of the two men, he would have fallen face first onto the wooden planks. Once out of the stale room that had been his prison for four days, Aragorn breathed in deeply. The air was cool and fresh, and the breeze that played his with hair was refreshing. It was as if he had been released from an oven. Gradually, his head cleared and Aragorn felt his headache recede. But, alas, he was given only a few short minutes to enjoy his new found freedom. Willie and Rory shoved him across the deck of the vessel and then practically threw him onboard of the other boat, which was not very much bigger than the other one.
They made him sit on the planks. The rope that wound around his wrists was secured to the wooden railing, making sure that he would not be able to flee. If he now jumped off the boat, he would be dragged behind and surely drown in the ice cold water. While Rory and Willie ventured off, the red haired men called Nibs untethered the smaller boat and secured it to one of the wooden stilts that held the city of Esgaroth above the lake. Madoc was nowhere to be seen.
Closing his eyes, Aragorn rested his head against the railing. It was pure bliss to be out in the open again, with fresh air all around him. The wind was cold and quickly making him shiver, but compared to his prison, this was indefinitely better. If only his legs and shoulders would stop hurting so much, and the pounding in his head would cease altogether. Suddenly, there was a sharp command, and a moment later, Nibs jumped lightly onto deck. The whole boat titled from side to side, but by now Aragorn was used to the dancing of the waves. His stomach did not protest. Another sharp command was uttered, followed by the creaking of wood and the clanking of iron. A moment later, the boat bucked, before it began to move away from the stilts. They were leaving his prison behind, and Aragorn felt a sense of relief flood him. Whatever was coming now, at least it would be over soon and he would see Legolas again.
For a few minutes, Aragorn heard nothing but the slapping of the waves against the hull of the ship and the oars cutting through the water. But then, the pressure in the air changed. It became colder, the wind stronger. Opening his eyes, Aragorn looked around. There was not much to see, for it was almost utterly dark around him. But then, he turned his head skywards, and he could see that they were no longer under the city. There were no stars, for mountains of clouds filled the sky. Their underside shone green and yellow, even in the dark. Returning his look to the world around him, Aragorn saw that the vessel was slowly pulling alongside the city, only a few yards away from the wooden piers and walkways. No lamps lightened the boat, and Aragorn knew that the men wanted not to be seen. The city, on the other hand, was awash with lamps and lights, making it possible for the men to guide their ship through the near darkness.
While they moved over the lake, so close to the city, Aragorn wondered what to do. Surely it was not so late that the inhabitants of Lake-town were already asleep. He could scream for help, jump over board and try to reach one of the piers before the rope dragged him back. There must be town-keepers around…
Before he could do anything, though, a knife was pressed against his neck and a cold voice reached his ears, "I would not try that if I were you, ranger. There is no one out there to hear you. The town is hiding from the storm, as it usually does." Glaring at his captor, Aragorn wanted to make a biting remark, but a piece of stinking cloth was pressed against his lips and a moment later he was effectively gagged. Grumbling under his breath, Aragorn shot a withering look at Madoc, but it availed him nothing.
A few minutes later, the boat stopped and a rope was flung onto the pier. Nibs jumped off the vessel and towed it to the pier, before he disappeared in the darkness. Upon a command from Madoc, Willie and Rory cut Aragorn loose from the railing, pushed him onto the pier and then down the walkway. They rounded a small house, and even in the darkness Aragorn could see that it was shabby and rundown. At the other end of the walkway there was another pier. Aragorn saw that a greater boat was fastened there, bigger than the two boats he had seen before. This one was lit with a few lamps, and it had a mast and two sails. Unceremoniously, Willie and Rory pulled him onto the deck and then guided him down a steep flight of stairs.
'And here we go again.' Aragorn mused darkly, as the two men pushed him inside a small bunk. He could make out a hammock and a small table, which was nailed to the floor. There was no window, and Aragorn knew that this bunk was under the water level. It was not an encouraging thought.
"Inside with you." Willie said, grabbing Aragorn's elbow and pushing him further into the bunk. The room was bigger than the one he had been held in before, but by no means large. With the three of them inside, it was filled completely. While Willie held his arm, Rory reached around him and fastened the rope that bound his wrists to a beam in the wall. Willie's hold on his arm was painful, and Aragorn knew that it would leave bruises. "There, all done." Rory muttered, then left the room quickly. Willie let go of Aragorn's arm, but he did not leave immediately. He looked at Aragorn from head to foot, and then shook his head, "This will be over soon, boy. And if you cooperate, it will be over even sooner." Seeing the unconvinced look in Aragorn's eyes, he added, "I don't want to kill you or the elf, ranger. But I will if I have to. We all have sacrificed too much to let us being stopped now. Neither you nor that elf will get in our way." He took a step closer towards Aragorn and pointed a finger at him, "That elf friend of yours better get here soon, for I'm tired of waiting."
With that, Willie left the room and closed the door behind him. Aragorn heard the bolt slide shut, and then the heavy footsteps of the man on the stairs that led to the deck. Alone once more, Aragorn sighed through the gag in his mouth. Another ship, another prison. Tugging at his bonds halfheartedly, he found that they were as tight as before. Frustrated, he glanced around the room for something that would help him free himself, but the room was bare; not even a fork or spoon lay around. Aragorn shook his head and slowly slid down the wall at his back. His legs hurt, as did his shoulders, but at least he could stretch now. Rolling his shoulders to loosen the stiff muscles, he let his thoughts wander.
The man had said that he did not want to kill him, but would if the need arose. What did that mean? That they would not hurt him and Legolas? And what did they need them for, anyway? It was confusing and frustrating to be so left in the dark. Sighing once more, Aragorn thought about the last sentence the man had uttered. 'That elf friend of yours better get here soon, for I'm tired of waiting.' What had he meant by that?
Had they contacted Legolas? Was he on his way? His heart beat wildly in his chest when he thought of his lover. How he wished to see Legolas, to talk to him, to be held by him again. Without him, he felt lonely, bereft of the sparkle of life that made his existence worthwhile. He knew that for a warrior, such devotion and dependability was dangerous. But his heart belonged to Legolas, and he knew that should he ever lose the elf, he would not have the will to stay in this world for long. He would soon follow after him, he was sure.
Trying to dispel those morbid thoughts, Aragorn concentrated on the here and now. Legolas was out there somewhere, trying to find him. He would soon see him again, and then they would work together to end this. They would win in the end, as they always did. And then, they would return home with another one of their adventurous tales to tell around the fire.
Then why could he not shake the dark feeling inside of him, that it would be different this time? That something bad would happen soon?
--oOo--
Legolas peered outside into the corridor. A lamp hung next to the door, illuminating the person standing in front of his room. To Legolas's surprise, it was neither of the men who had taken Aragorn captive four days ago. Nor was it a beggar or a pick-pocked, or another of the men Legolas had expected to come and bring him a message. Instead, the waitress from the Fat Fisherman stood before him. She was still wearing her apron, and her locks had come loose from the ponytail. She looked as if she had been working for hours in the inn's common room.
"How can I help you, girl?" Legolas asked, when the maid did not say a single word. She just stared at him, a bit shy and uncomfortable. At his words, her cheeks colored. She took a step towards him and reached out her hand. In it, she held a piece of parchment. "A man asked me to give this to you, sir."
Legolas took the parchment but did not open it. Narrowing his eyes, he asked sharply, "Who gave it to you?"
She shrugged, her cheeks reddening further. "I don't know. Someone." It was clear that she felt uncomfortable in Legolas's presence. She glanced down the corridor towards the stairs. Seeing that he had to calm down, lest the girl would run away, Legolas softened his voice, "What did he look like?"
"Tall, red haired. He had freckles." The girl now blushed in earnest, and Legolas saw the flicker of girlish emotions in her eyes. He sighed inwardly. This girl did not know who had given her the message. But he had another question to ask, "When did he give you this?" He held the paper up into the air.
"Around noon." She said, shrugging once more. "But he asked me to wait until sundown to give this to you." When she saw Legolas's eyes widen, she quickly added, "I should go now, the inn is full tonight." With that she turned and vanished down the corridor. Slowly, Legolas closed the door and locked it. When he moved towards the small lamp in the room, his hands shook. This was it. This parchment would tell him the next step, would lead him to Aragorn. It did not matter that he had missed catching one of the kidnappers, for as long as this small piece of information told him enough to find his young lover.
He opened the parchment with trembling fingers. The letters were bolt, written in black ink and barely readable. It was obvious that the one who had written this letter was not used in the art of writing.
"Elf,
If you want to see the ranger again, do as we say. If you don't you will never see him again, nor find his body. We will make sure of that. But if you do as we say, we will give the ranger back as soon as your task is done.
Leave the inn and follow the street southwards until you reach the end of town. Turn left and follow the smallest road. You will reach a corner where a fishmonger is located. Turn north again. At the end of the road you will find piers. We await you at pier 15. Come alone and leave your weapons behind.
We will watch you. We will follow you. You have one hour. One mistake and the ranger dies.
We are waiting."
Legolas heart raced. He read the letter four times, memorizing every word. From what he could read between the lines, Aragorn was still alive, and they would not kill him if he did what they said. Some of the tension he had felt these previous days left his body. Aragorn was still alive…But, what if they lied? What if they had already killed him? Cold fear plunged into his stomach and Legolas felt his hands tremble stronger.
"No!" He said aloud, clenching his fists around the parchment. "He is not dead, they have not killed him, because they need him as bait." He nodded to himself, making himself believe his words. Legolas tucked the letter into a pocket in his tunic and reached for his cloak. The letter said that he had only one hour to find that pier. He'd better hurry. Biting down on his lip, he let his gaze travel over his twin knives and his bow. The letter said no weapons. And that they would watch him. He could neither take his knives nor the bow, for both were too obvious to miss.
Curse them, Legolas thought with agitation. Instead of the knives, he tugged a long dagger into his boot, another one behind his belt. They would have to do. With one last sweeping glance around the room, Legolas hastened to the door and left the inn.
Half an hour later, Legolas turned north at the fishmonger. It had taken him less time to reach the southern part of the town than he had thought. The streets were almost empty of the usual nightcrawlers; drunkards, thieves and the homeless. The storm was building and it was driving the people homewards or into the inns. Already it was storming inside the small streets, making lamps dangle dangerously and pushing the waves of the lake up onto the walkways. Once the storm broke loose, it would be suicidal to walk on the narrow walkways close to the seething waters. One strong gust, slippery underground, and a hapless traveler would vanish in the gushing floods.
But Legolas did not think about the risk while he hastened through the narrow streets. Aragorn was somewhere out there, maybe even at the destination he was right now headed to. Every step he took brought him closer to his friend, and that was all that mattered. But although he was focused on his destination, Legolas was not unconscious of his surroundings. More than once he surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder, trying to determine whether he was really being followed. He had thought that he would spy anyone who dared to follow him, but so far he had neither seen nor heard anyone. Maybe the letter was lying, and they were not following him. But Legolas could not be sure, and so he kept his eyes and ears open for sounds and sights that were out of place.
In much less time than was normally needed to cover the distance from the inn towards these piers, Legolas reached his destination. The wind was sharply howling around the edges of the buildings, and it blew his hair around his face. It was almost pitch black, the few lamps the only source of light, for the stars were veiled by the clouds. The sound of the waves slapping against the stilts and planks filled the silence that lay heavy over this part of the city.
Looking around, Legolas saw no living soul. All was quiet and the houses around were not lit with light. It seemed as if no one lived in this part of Esgaroth, and after a few minutes of quiet waiting, Legolas began to wonder if he had read the instructions correctly. With the lake in his back and the empty pier in front, Legolas waited. Minutes passed, and he began to feel nervous. Where were the kidnappers? What where they waiting for? Maybe they had meant another pier? His gaze quickly moved to the small number that had been painted on the pier. No, he was where he was supposed to be. So why did they made him wait?
Suddenly, a sound pierced the stillness. With reflexes honed from centuries as a warrior, Legolas reached behind him to unsheathe his twin knives. But his hand only found air, and a split second later he remembered that he had left his knives behind in the inn. Letting his arms fall to his side, he pierced the darkness with his keen blue eyes. A man stepped from the shadows of one of the more shabbier houses. Even in the dim light Legolas recognized him as the man who had taken Aragorn captive. It was the bearded man from the stables.
The man clapped his hands slowly as he approached. The sound was like a clap of thunder in the oppressive stillness of the night. Before Legolas could utter a word, the man spoke, "Congratulations, elf. You came alone and unarmed, just as I ordered. I have to give you this, elf, you know how to follow orders."
Gritting his teeth, Legolas kept a scathing remark behind his teeth. Instead, he lifted his chin a fraction and said, "I have come. Where is the ranger?"
Madoc smiled and shook his head slowly, "Impatient, aren't we?"
"Where – is – he?" Legolas said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. He was already tired of this game. Seeing his lover's captor stand before him, at arm's length, Legolas felt the urge to charge and strike him. This man was the reason that he had been in pain and worry the last four days. This man had taken Aragorn away and still held him hostage. Legolas knew that he would have no pity with him, once he got his hands on him.
Instead of answering the question, Madoc turned and gestured down the pier, "Shall we? There is still much to do tonight, and we should not waste time."
But Legolas shook his head and clenched his fists at his side, "I will go nowhere until I have seen Strider."
"Strider, huh?" Madoc tiled his head to the side and a small smile played around his lips. "You know, he never told us his name. Strange name, though." With those words, Madoc made his way down the dark pier, turning his back on Legolas.
Fury burned inside of Legolas. The way this man spoke about his lover, it was tearing him up inside. So callous, as if Aragorn was a mere thing, and not a human being. Angry, Legolas hastened after the kidnapper. Before he could think his actions through, he grabbed the man by the arm and spun him around. His face was but inches from Madoc's and his voice was a mere hiss, "If you have hurt him…"
"Release me, elf." Madoc spat, his eyes full of anger. "Or you will never see your precious Strider again."
"Maybe you have already killed him." Legolas hissed, his anger not lessening. Neither did his hold on the man.
"Maybe we have." Madoc threatened, and he twisted his arm out of Legolas's grasp. "And maybe we have not. The only way for you to find out is to do as I say, elf." Madoc grunted, his face flashed with angry spots. When Legolas did not answer, he turned on his heels and marched down the pier. Infuriated and not a little tempted to just kill this man, Legolas weighted his options.
Option one was to fight this man and try to get the answers he wanted. But that would probably avail him nothing, for this man would not tell him where Aragorn was. Maybe he did not even know. After all, he had companions who had probably hid Aragorn at an unknown destination. Option two was to do as the man said and play along. This was something Legolas really did not want to do. But if this man would lead him to Aragorn? After all, he did not even know what this man wanted him to do. Maybe it was not that bad after all. A tiny voice in the back of Legolas's head roared with laughter at the thought.
And option three was to return to Mirkwood, gather some warriors and comb through Esgaroth until he found Aragorn. It was an appealing thought, and Legolas was tempted to act on it. Surely, with the father's warriors, they would be able to find the young ranger, would they not? But Legolas was not sure. Esgaroth was a large city, with many hiding places. And while he was gone, those men could to Valar know what to Aragorn, including moving him from the city. No, option three would not help him any. Sighing inwardly and clenching his fists, Legolas turned and followed the man down the dark pier. How he hated it when he was forced to do what he did not want to do!
With a few long strides Legolas reached the side of the man. Madoc gave him a quick glance, but said nothing. A smug smile touched the corners of his lips, and Legolas once again pondered option one. But not for long, because a large shape began to form in the darkness in front of them. A moment later, Legolas saw that it was a ship, with mast and sail and everything. It must have been a fishing boat once, although he could see no nets or crab cages. What he did see, though, were dim lamps that had been covered with cloths, so that their light would not shine onto the pier. Legolas grudgingly conceded that he would not have seen the ship had the man not led him to it.
Stopping at the gangway, Madoc stretched his arm out and gestured at the ship, "After you, elf." Legolas glared at him out of narrowed eyes, but then he boarded the ship without so much as a word. Once on deck, he saw that there were three other men. When they saw him, they eyed him warily, but they did not threaten him. They knew they did not have to, because they had something to blackmail him with. Or rather, someone.
Legolas let his eyes quickly travel across the deck. There were ropes and some wooden boxes, tools and dark shapes he could not identify. But Aragorn was not on deck. His heart beat more quickly in his chest; a part of him had hoped that he would see his friend again. Turning, he stared at Madoc who climbed onto the ship after him. "Where is he?" He said through clenched teeth.
"Don't worry, you will see him again." Madoc hauled in the gangway and let it clatter to the ground. "If you do as we say, that is." When he turned around to walk to the front of the ship, Legolas's hand snatched his wrist. Blue eyes met dark ones, and Legolas's fingers held the man so tightly that he would leave bruises. "I will do nothing for as long as I don't know if he is still alive."
Madoc tried to wrench his arm away, but this time, Legolas would not let go. "I want to see him, now!" Legolas voice was barely above a whisper, and Madoc seemed to shake under his intense stare. But Legolas was so focused on Madoc, that he forgot the three other man. Suddenly, cold steel pressed against his neck.
"Release him or I will kill you right here and now." Slowly, Legolas shifted his gaze to the man that held a knife against his throat. For a moment, he did not react, but then he slowly unclenched his fingers and released Madoc. Freed, the man took a large step backwards. "That was unwise of you, elf." He breathed, panting and rubbing his wrist.
"So?" Legolas challenged, straightening up to his full height. The knife vanished from his throat, but Willie hovered nearby. He was ready to act, should Legolas try anything. "From what I can see here I think that the ranger is already dead. Why should I help you?" Pain hit his heart as he said those words, but Legolas steeled his heart against it. He did not really believe that, but he longed to learn the truth. Was Aragorn still alive? Had they hurt him? He turned and made as if to leave the ship. His chest hurt incredibly at the notion of leaving Aragorn, but he hoped that they would not call his bluff. Leaving Aragorn was the last thing on his mind, and he knew that he would do whatever these men told him to, if it brought Aragorn back into his arms.
His right foot already touched the wooden railing when there was a shout. "Wait!" Legolas froze, but did not turn. Madoc called out to him, "The ranger is not dead, but he will be if you leave now."
Turning around, Legolas stared at Madoc, his face a mask of control, while his innards were rumbling nervously. "Explain."
Madoc tilted his head to the side and took one step towards Legolas. His voice was full of confidence when he spoke, "See, this ship will take us out onto the lake. To a platform, the be precise. And that, dear elf, is where the ranger is. Alone, chained to a wooden construction, swimming in the water." He paused, letting Legolas digest his words ere he continued, "This storm is getting stronger as we speak. Soon, the waves will be high enough to wash over him and take him under. And this ship," Madoc patted the mast of the boat, "is the only one that will sail out tonight. And we," he gestured at himself and the three men behind him, "are the only ones who know which platform your friend is chained to. So you see, elf, you will have to come with us if you want to save your friend."
With those words, Madoc turned and headed towards the front of the ship, while Willie, Rory and Nibs spread out to undock it. Legolas watched them, but he could not move. He was frozen. Was the man speaking the truth? Was Aragorn somewhere out there, fighting against the storm? Worried beyond measure, Legolas slowly made his way over to the railing on the other side of the ship, facing the dark lake. He knew that he would not leave the ship, he could not. If there was the small chance that Aragorn was out there and Legolas heading towards him, then he would stay.
But that did not mean that he would make it any easier on the kidnappers. Whenever one of them neared his position, he glowered at them, bestowing upon them the look he normally reserved for orcs. Soon, the three men working on deck would not look in his direction anymore, nor come near him. Satisfied at this little victory, Legolas stared out at the lake.
The storm was near breaking now. Bolts of lightning shot across the sky and a deep, growling thunder echoed in the distance. So far, no rain had fallen, but the pressure in the air was so strong, that Legolas felt his skin tingle. He knew that it was only matter of hours until the storm would truly be unleashed, and he fervently hoped that he would be back in Esgaroth by then, with Aragorn whole and unhurt at his side.
Soon, the ship was shooting across the Long Lake, the wind almost bursting its sails. Ropes and corps tensed, and the wooden planks groaned under the strain of the waves. Froth sprayed the deck, and after but a few minutes, Legolas was drenched in water. The men were busily holding the ship on its course, and although Legolas could see no lights shimmer on the water, he had the unerring feeling that the men knew where they were headed. Fear and hope mingled inside his heart, and he wished that the ship would hurry. If the man had told the truth, then Aragorn was in dire need of help.
'I am coming to get you, Estel.' Legolas thought, staring into the darkness. 'I will be there soon, melethron.'
--oOo--
Under the deck, bound to the wall of the small bunk, Aragorn felt the ship roll from side to side, as if a giant was toying with it. One time, the whole ship would be lifted up, reaching for the sky, before it fell down into another trough of the sea. He was not sick again, but his back and shoulders protested the motion nevertheless. The rope that bound his wrists cut into his skin, and Aragorn wished for something to brace his feet against, so that he would not be so susceptible to the ship's movements.
While he sat in the darkness, bound and gagged, he could not help but think about the plan of the men who had taken him captive. Where were they headed this late at night and in the middle of a storm? What was out there in the dark that they wished to reach? For a moment, Aragorn pondered the possibility of the man crossing the Long-lake to reach a destination at its other shore, but then dismissed the idea. There was nothing of interest at the other shore; only wide plains, hills and a few smaller settlements that were autonomous and produced no goods of interest. No, wherever these men wanted to go, it was someone on the lake. Maybe another ship? That was possible, but Aragorn did not know why it was then necessary to meet out on the lake, and not at a pier.
And what about Legolas? How was his friend to find them on the lake? Surely they could not mean for him to swim across it? Not even Legolas, with all his elven strength and endurance could survive long in these cold waters, and surely not when a storm was raging. No…Suddenly, Aragorn's eyes widened. The only possibility was that Legolas was already on the ship! There was no other way for his friend and lover to find them. The Long-lake was not called the 'Long'-lake because it was so small, after all. In the dark, with a storm brewing, not even the most skilled seaman would find his way towards a single, unlit ship.
Automatically, Aragorn turned his head towards the ceiling. Was Legolas truly onboard? Pictures flashed before Aragorn's inner eye. While had been held captive in the small boat, his mind had made up images of what the men would do to Legolas once he was in their hands. What had they planned? What did they need him for? One gruesome image replaced the other, and Aragorn shuddered visibly. If Legolas was alone with those men right now, thinking that they would do cruel things to him, he would do as they said. His heart began to hammer in his chest. He would not let them hurt his friend, not because of him.
Convinced that Legolas was on the ship, he began to struggle more desperately against his bonds.
--oOo--
The storm seemed to be directly overhead when the four men moored the ship. The strong metal chain of the anchor rattled against the wood of the deck, before the loud splash of the anchor hitting the lake echoed around the deck. Quickly, the men stroked the sails, before they secured them to the mast. The wind was now so strong that they had to shout to make themselves heard above the howling. It was just a matter of minutes before the storm broke loose.
While the man moored the ship, Legolas leaned over the railing. They had stopped at a wooden platform that swam on the waves. In the middle of the platform, a square hole had been cut from the wood. Above the hole, long poles had been erected, triangular in form, which reminded Legolas of the wooden constructions used to cook something above a fire. From those wooden spikes, a metal chain hung down into the water, with a small brass bell on the top. Suddenly, Legolas knew where they were. This was not just a platform, but a fisherman's platform; one of the constructions used to catch crabs. He had shown these constructions to Aragorn when they had first entered the city.
Aragorn! Legolas's blue eyes pierced the surrounding darkness frantically. Where was his friend? Spray gushed onto the platform, which wobbled heavily on the agitated waves. Worry crept from Legolas's stomach to his heart. Where, in the name of the Valar, was Aragorn? Madoc had said that Aragorn was chained to the construction, forced to swim in the water. But try as he might, Legolas could not see Aragorn. His heart began to pound heavily. What if the waves had taken him under? What if Aragorn was drowning? Without thinking twice, Legolas grabbed the railing and swung his legs over it. He landed cat like on the platform, looking around wildly.
"Strider!" He called, and his voice was carried away on the wind. There was no response.
Behind him, a rough laugh flowed down from the ship, causing Legolas to turn. On the ship, Rory and Willie let down a walkway, both grinning stupidly. Madoc slowly came down to the platform, grinning at Legolas. "So, here we are. Finally."
"Where is he?" Legolas ground out, his hands balled into fists at his side. What had these men done to Aragorn? Anger bubbled up inside of him, and he felt his control slip just a little. "Speak!"
"We have done nothing to him. Yet." Madoc said calmly. Unfazed by Legolas's obvious anger, he made his way over to the construction, while Rory and Nibs began to unload wooden crates from the ship.
Furious now, Legolas spun around, "You lied!" His eyes pierced the man, but Madoc only shrugged his shoulders.
"You would not have cooperated had I not lied, elf. It is as simple as that." Turning away from Legolas, Madoc began to light a few oil lamps on the platform. Their light was not bright enough to illuminate the darkness, but their glow was enough for Legolas to see that – indeed – Aragorn was nowhere to be seen.
Fear, cold and merciless, clenched Legolas's heart. His mind screamed at him that Aragorn was long dead, that they had killed him as soon as they had vanished with him. But his heart denied this, and Legolas felt himself being torn. Standing in the heavy wind, his hair blowing from side to side, one part of him wanted nothing more than to sprint forward and strangle Madoc. Another part of him wanted to scream and rant and shake his fists at the unfairness of the situation. Four days he had waited, and now this mere man was telling him that it had all been a lie! Tears of frustration gathered in his eyes, but he blinked them away furiously.
"Then where is he?" Legolas asked, his voice shaking just a little. The men, unaccustomed to elvish emotions and voices, did not notice.
"Not here, as you can see." Madoc said, gesturing at the platform. He was done lighting the oil lamps, and now helping Rory, Willie and Nibs with the crates. It seemed as if they were installing something to the three pikes in the middle. Something made of fishing nets and metal weights. And there was strong winch, too.
But Legolas could not think about the thing that those men were making. His only thought was Aragorn, and he felt himself slowly loose his last reign on his self-control. His hands balled into fists at his side. He made a menacing step towards Madoc. "Where…is…he?" He hissed through his teeth, looking more like a lethal predator than an elf in that moment.
Hearing the dangerous undertone in Legolas's voice, Madoc turned towards him. "He is alive, if that is what you mean."
"I will not ask again, human." Legolas gritted his teeth and counted to five in his head. It would not help him find Aragorn when he killed this man now. "I want to know where Strider is. Now."
"And if you don't tell you, elf?" Madoc challenged, his hand straying slowly to the dagger that was strapped to his belt. Legolas was radiating anger and fury, and Madoc would take no chances.
"If you don't tell me, then I will jump into the lake and swim as far away as possible." Legolas answered, his face suddenly calm. "And you will never get whatever you want me to do for you."
Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw that Rory and Willie exchanged a worried look, but Madoc seemed to calmly consider his words. After almost a minute of silence, the bearded man nodded his head, "Willie, bring the ranger."
Willie turned immediately and to Legolas's surprise, the man headed back towards the big ship. After just a few moments the tall man vanished under deck. His hands suddenly became very cold, and Legolas grimaced at his own stupidity. Of course, these men would not keep Aragorn where they could not keep an eye on him! Furthermore, to have him here would enable them to use him as a means to force Legolas to do as they said. And lastly, it only proved to Legolas what he had only assumed earlier; that Madoc was slimmer than he let on. He must have known that Legolas would demand proof that Aragorn was still alive.
His eyes glued to the ship, Legolas waited with held breath. It took Willie only a few minutes to return onto deck, but for Legolas is seemed to take much longer. When the man finally appeared, Legolas felt his breath leave his lungs in a relived rush. Four days he had waited for this single moment. Now that it had come, he felt his whole body shake in heartfelt relief.
Before him, Willie pushed a slightly stumbling Aragorn onto the deck. The young ranger was gagged and his arms bound behind his back, but he was walking under his own power and seemed not worse for wear. Legolas made a quick step towards him, "Strider!"
Aragorn snapped his head towards the sound, his eyes searching. Being held in the small boat and then inside the slightly bigger but still small bunk, had made his legs stiff and his muscles protested his movements. Bracing himself against the ups and downs of the ship these last few hours had not helped the pain in his back or shoulders either. Willie pushed him up the stairs and over the deck, unheeding of his stumbling. It was dark around him, and Aragorn could barely see where he was going. The ship was bucking under him, and he felt his feet slip dangerously. He was just cursing Willie under his breath, trying to balance his weight, when he heard his name being called.
Immediately, he searched the darkness with his eyes. There were lamps lit a few feet under the deck, and there, besides one of them, stood Legolas. Aragorn felt himself take in a deep breath and release it slowly. Legolas was here. He was unbound and obviously unhurt. Relief, warm and toe-tingling, coursed through his body. At least these men had not hurt his friend. Gagged, he could not call out to his lover, and so he merely nodded his head in his direction, trying to convey with his eyes what he could not say with words. A small smile lit up Legolas's lips, and his eyes shoved the well known sparkle that was only reserved for Aragorn. Trying to smile back, Aragorn was suddenly pushed forwards again.
"Move, ranger, or I'll make you." Willie grunted behind him, pushing him forwards once more.
Surprised and his attention elsewhere, Aragorn was not quick enough to compensate for Willie's impatient push from behind. Stumbling forwards, his right knee collided with the wooden railing, making him grunt in pain. Losing his balance completely through the impact, Aragorn fell to his knees. Pain shot up his legs and right into his shoulders. It was not bad enough to render him motionless, but enough to let him clamp his eyes shut for a moment to control his breathing through the gag.
"Move!" Willie kicked him viciously, causing Aragorn to groan softly. When had that man become so cruel? He thought idly, while Willie grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. A strong wave hit the ship and Aragorn almost fell down again. But Willie held him upright, and then unceremoniously pulled him down the gangway and onto the platform.
"Strider, are you alright?" Legolas was at his side in an instant. Aragorn felt himself being pulled backwards and a second later cold steel pressed against his neck. Instinctively he pushed his head backwards, so that the blade would not cut into his skin. He heard an unmistakable angry growl and he hoped that Legolas would not do something rash. Under his feet, the platform swayed from side to side, and Aragorn knew that he would not be able to fight properly, due to his stiff legs and bound arms.
Tilting his head just a little bit, Aragorn searched for Legolas's face. He did not have to search long; Legolas stood just a few feet from him, his arms outstretched as if he wanted to touch him. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and Aragorn could tell that Legolas was at the edge of starting a fight. Aragorn shook his head minutely; a fight would not help them now. They were four against two, and while Aragorn did not doubt Legolas's ability to deal with these men, he doubted whether they would both make it out of this situation alive and unhurt.
Seeing his motion, Legolas's frown deepened. His gaze became asking, and Aragorn shook his head once more. The knife dug deeper into his skin, causing a small trickle of blood to run down his neck and disappear into his shirt. Legolas snarled angrily, but then he took a deep breath and visibly relaxed his muscles. He nodded minutely at Aragorn, letting him know that he would do nothing that would endanger him. He took another step towards him, but Madoc's sharp command stopped his further approach.
"That is near enough, elf."
Legolas did not grace the man with his scowl, but kept his eyes focused on his friend. Aragorn felt the elven stare appraise him from head to foot, and when Legolas's eyes returned to his face, Aragorn saw the worry in the blue depth. When Legolas's spoke, he used Sindarin, so that the men would not understand. His voice was soft, full of barely concealed concern, "Manen nalyë, Estel? They did not hurt you, did they?" For a brief moment, Legolas's gaze lingered on his jaw, and Aragorn knew that even in the darkness his friend could see the dark bruise that must be visible on his cheek and jaw.
Aragorn shook his head slowly, so as not to prompt Willie to slit his throat right there and then. He was in pain, yes, and still incredibly thirsty, but the men had not hurt him. Narrowing his eyes, Aragorn tried to ask the same question. Legolas seemed to understand, for he nodded his head, "I am fine, they did not touch me."
Legolas shot a quick glance at Madoc, "I wonder what all this is about. They would not tell me, but I fear that we will find out soon enough." Legolas gazed imploringly at Aragorn, his eyes bright with an inner fire, "I will not allow them to hurt you, Estel. Whatever it is they want, they will not get it. We will escape, and they will regret having ever laid hands on you."
Aragorn's heart beat faster at those words. He wanted to nod his head, but the knife at his throat thwarted his attempt. So he merely gazed back at his friend and lover, trying to show his trust and confidence in Legolas through his eyes. Before Legolas could say more, though, Madoc came forward.
"That is enough." He gestured at Rory, who had stood in the shadows during the conversation. "Rory, help Willie with the ranger. He will be the first to test the construction." Upon his command, Rory hastened to Willies's side and grabbed one of Aragorn's upper arms. Together, he and Willie dragged the stumbling ranger over the platform towards the construction that stood in its middle.
"What are you doing?" Legolas demanded, his hands balled into fists at his side once more. It hurt him almost physically to see those men handle Aragorn, and he hated the fact that he could not help him. It was a feeling he had never had before, and he vowed that he would never let himself be pushed in such a situation again. Never. He should have acted in the stable all those days ago. He should never have allowed those men to take Aragorn away from him.
"Well, we came here for a reason, elf. Your ranger friend served as bait, as you know. But he will also test our little construction over there. After all, we would not want you to drown when it is your turn, elf." Madoc said, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. Oh, how Legolas wanted to knock them out of his mouth right there and then. Instead, he gritted his teeth and watched as the men pushed Aragorn with his back against one of the wooden beams of the triangle construction. If he acted now, it was very likely that Willie would slit Aragorn's throat, for the knife still rested against his neck. Furthermore, Madoc stood too far away from him to reach him before the men noticed that something was wrong.
So, Legolas watched helplessly as Rory and Willie pushed Aragorn down to his knees right in front of the square opening in the platform, keeping a good hold on his shoulders. Behind them, the once called Nibs dragged something that looked like a huge fishnet towards them. Legolas could hear the rattling of metal chains and the slapping of wood against the planks of the platform. Even with is sharp elvish eyesight, he could not make out what the thing was. While Willie kept the knife pressed against Aragorn's neck, shooting ever and anon a furtive glance in Legolas's direction, Rory and Nibs fastened ropes around Aragorn's waist, going even to far as to knot them through his belt. When all was done, they took a step back and glanced at Madoc. Anticipation stood clearly in their eyes. It was obvious that they had long waited for this moment and were now eager to see if their construction (whatever it was) worked. And in Nibs case, there was also relief in his eyes. Legolas mused that it would have been Nibs turn to test this thing, had Aragorn not taken his place. Legolas's hate for these men increased.
"Well, that went quicker than I thought." Madoc said, moving over towards the kneeling Aragorn. "Get him on his feet, but careful with the nets!" He said, gesturing at the things that trailed behind Aragorn like a long veil.
When the two men hauled him to his feet, Aragorn winced in pain. The cold and the wind had further stiffened his muscles, and even this small movement hurt. He could feel a cramp in his calf. Glowering at Madoc, he wished he could speak his mind right now. A wave hit the platform, making water slosh up out of the square opening in front of him. Aragorn swayed on his feet. He did not know what it was that the men had tied to him, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it was nothing good. Turning his head backwards as much as the blade at his throat allowed, Aragorn inspected the construction.
At first he could only see nets and ropes and some metal weights. But then his eyes made out forms, knots and bracings. The nets were lined with oil cloth, patched here and there with thick black tar. Aragorn suddenly understood. The blood left his face as comprehension hit him. 'Drowning' Madoc had said earlier, and Aragorn felt a shudder race through his body. These men were crazy!
This construction was meant to enable him to breathe under water! He had seen such things in books of his father, but he had never thought that someone would actually build such a thing. In the pictures, these balloons were made of strong wood, by masters of woodcraft and the best elvish carpenters. They were smaller than the one he saw now, and much stronger. The main part of the construction would consist of a wooden box, lined with oil cloth and tar. When the box was put to water, air would stream in and be concealed inside. It enabled men to work for minutes under water, for example to repair bridges or houses. Usually, these constructions were anchored in the ground, and he remembered clearly that his father had told him that they were way too dangerous to use in open water. The current that existed in any open water would flip the construction to the side, therewith allowing air to escape and water to enter. No one who had ever dared to use this construction in open water had survived to tell the tale.
And this 'thing' these men had built, looked nothing like the pictures in the books. Instead of a wooden box that held the air, these men had merely sewn a few lines to fisher nets! Iron weights had been placed around the balloon to make him sink faster, and Aragorn very much doubted that this balloon would be able to hold air at all. If the men forced him into the water with this thing, he would surely drown. Aragorn shuddered at the thought, and turned his gaze away from the construction…only to gaze at the wide water around him. He felt his blood run cold.
The storm was near breaking, and its wind lashed at that water. The waves were so high now that they flooded the platform any now and then, making the wooden planks slippery and wet. While the wind was cold, Aragorn knew that the water would be even colder; it would freeze him mercilessly. And with his already hurting limps, his inability to use his hands and the gag, he would sink like a stone. He would not be able to keep himself above water, let alone swim. He was doomed.
Suddenly afraid, he snapped his eyes towards Legolas. Immediately the elf saw his fear, and his face turned into a worried grimace. He knew Aragorn long enough to know that the young man was scarcely scared of anything. He took one step towards him, ready to help, but Madoc's voice stopped him. "One more step, elf, and Willie will spill his blood faster than you can scream his name."
Gritting his teeth, Legolas pierced Madoc with a stare that would have made lesser men quake in their boots. Not so Madoc. His grin widening, the man took merely a step towards Aragorn and began to finally explain why they had taken the ranger captive.
"Since many years we have sought for a way to escape this miserable life in Esagorth." He gestured at the lake around him. "This is not enough for us. Fish and mussels day in day out. We want more. We need more. And whose fault was it that we live in poverty?" His eyes gleamed now with an almost maniac fire. "Ten years ago the dragon Smaug destroyed our lives. And now, we are taking back what is ours. What should have been ours ten years ago." Madoc threw his arms wide and gestured at the frothing waters. "Under our feet lies a fortune! Gold, silver, diamonds and Mithril! The dragon took it with him when he perished, and it only needs to be hauled up. Who finds it may claim it." Madoc almost whispered now. "There is enough down there to last the rest of our lives and even more. And tonight, it will be ours."
Legolas shook his head in stunned silence. These men could not mean what he thought they meant. The treasure of Smaug? Many a man and elf had played with the thought of recovering the fortune that Smaug had taken into the cold depth with him, but none had actually dared to go through with the plans. The Long-lake was deeper than anyone could dive. And furthermore, no one actually knew with certainty where the bones of Smaug rested. The dragon had fallen into the lake while he had still been trashing in the throes of death. It could very well be that the current had taken the dragon southwards or eastwards. It was suicide to try to lift the treasure. That was exactly the reason why no one had tried to claim it, not even the dwarfs.
"This is madness!" Legolas spat agitatedly. "You will never find the treasure let alone lift it. It is forever more gone."
"Ah, but we have ways and means to get it." Madoc said and gestured at Legolas. "Why do you think did we bring you here, elf?" Before Legolas could answer, the man explained, "Elves can dive deeper than any human could. They can also hold their breath for many minutes and are less susceptible to the cold than humans are. We brought you here to lift the treasure from the ground of the lake for us, elf."
Legolas could only stare at the man. This was crazy. Not even an elf could hold his breath that long. Let alone dive all the way done to the ground of the lake to find and then lift the hoard. His doubts must have been visible on his face, for Madoc gestured at the construction. "At first we did not think of an elf, of course. So we constructed this balloon to help us breathe under water. I guess, with its help, you will be able to get deep enough to find the treasure. But, the thing is, we never got around to test the balloon." Madoc grinned at Willie and Rory before he turned his dark eyes back on Legolas. "We would not want you to drown on us, elf. Therefore your ranger friend will test it first."
Madoc gave Willie and Rory a quick nod, and before Legolas could even comprehend what was going on, Willie pulled the knife from Aragorn's throat, and gave him a hard shove. Surprised, Aragorn stumbled forwards. Instead of wooden planks, his feet found nothing but air and with a suppressed shout Aragorn crashed into the freezing water. The balloon thing rattled over the platform before it, too, crashed into the dark waters.
An agonized scream ripped from Legolas's lips, "Strider!"
To be continued.
'Melethron – lover'
'Manen nalyë, Estel? – How are you, Estel?'