Note: None of these are my characters except for the unknown ones! Rated R for violence and deals with the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mentioned rape! Elvish speech is in ''. Language warning! Legolas's POV. Takes place a few hours later.

Return Of The Past

Part 11

I lay on the bed, with a sword directly at my throat. I said nothing, as I neutrally looked at the one who had his sword pricking me.

My thoughts were on what had happened a few hours ago.

The one who held me prisoner smirked down at me.

*************

Flashback

*************

I gaped at Gimli. 'When did you learn to speak Elvish?'

Gimli grinned a little, before it faded. 'I wanted to surprise you when you returned, Elf. Aragorn taught me while you were gone. And he was not an easy instructor.'

Aragorn smirked. 'You weren't the best student, either, Gimli. It took you five years to learn Elvish decently so you could speak without stumbling over the words.'

I was astonished. 'Why didn't you tell me sooner?' I questioned. 'If you wanted to surprise me, I mean.'

'Well… First, I wasn't sure how to bring it up, and then after the whole thing with…' Gimli's voice trailed off.

Coldness crept into me at his words, a numbing cold which shut off my emotions. Inside, I was shivering, unable to escape from the numbness. It was my reality, and for a few moments, I could not speak or move, consumed by cold, black darkness. It was my reality… my prison, from which I could not escape.

I wondered desperately, is this darkness inside of me? I wish I were stronger. Like Aragorn or Éomer, or any of my other friends. I felt that they would have fared much better than I if they were faced with this numbing emptiness. My breathing grew shallow as I sank into the darkness, seeing no light or warmth anywhere. It was so cold…

Was this my soul now? Was this what remained of my Elven light? This darkness… cold, and empty.

Aragorn must have sensed that something was not right. 'Legolas,  what's wrong?' he asked, as he brought his hands up to my face.

I heard his voice calling me, as if it were from far away. 'A-Aragorn?' I whispered. I was shaking, struggling to return.

'Legolas?' Éomer questioned.

'I'm… s-so c-cold,' I said, breathing rapidly. Violent shivers were traveling down me now.

Gimli whispered, 'Is he all right?'

Frodo gasped. 'Come back, Legolas!'

I was so cold that I could barely speak. 'C-can't fight it…'

Aragorn shook me, after placing his hands on my shoulders. 'Legolas!' he said sharply. My vision was starting to blur, as I suddenly felt soft, warm lips on mine. Hands, warm hands, touched my arms. A spark of light appeared inside me, responding to the warmth.

I blinked weakly and my vision returned to normal. I leaned against Aragorn, shivering even now.

'Why are you so cold?' he whispered, as he touched my bare skin.  His arms pulled me closer.

I said nothing, as I clung to his warmth. My Elven soul was fading… that must be it, I realized. That was the only explanation I could come up with. 'It's inside of me, Aragorn,' I whispered.

'What is?' my lover questioned, holding me tightly against him.

'The darkness… the darkness,' I repeated. 'I don't if I can resist anymore.'

Aragorn frowned. 'You cannot give up now, Legolas. I won't let you.'

'I'm not strong enough, like Éomer or you.' I was rambling, for losing my Elven soul scared me. I did not know how to regain it, and that was my greatest fear. 'I'll never be able to beat it. It'll consume me and…'

A hand slapped me across the face. I gasped and touched my stinging cheek, before turning hurt eyes on the one who had slapped me.

'That's enough of that kind of talk, Legolas,' Aragorn said. 'We'll fight it together- all of us. You are one of the strongest people I know.'

I gazed at him in shock.

'Brutal, but it worked,' Éomer said quietly.

Frodo frowned at Aragorn. 'Did you have to hit him so hard?'

'Tis all right, Frodo,' I murmured. 'I needed that.' I sighed and yawned.

Gimli grumbled, 'Don't scare me like that again, elf.'

Éomer turned to look at me, his expression sorrowful but stern. 'You know what I am going to say, Legolas, so give them to me. Until you have proven once more that you will refrain from hurting yourself, they will be beyond your reach.'

Everyone else looked confused. It was obvious that they did not understand. But I knew all too well. I'd nearly killed myself with my own weapons a few times, not counting this particular point in time.

I lowered my gaze, and removed my sword-belt and daggers.

Éomer took them quietly. 'Your bow and quiver, as well.'

I was troubled as I handed them over as well.. I knew that Jerome would return to claim me, and I was at a severe disadvantage without my weapons. I opened my mouth to tell them, before I closed it.

I decided to tell Aragorn later, when no one else was around. I did not plan to keep any more secrets from the one that I loved. Even if I was embarrassed, I would not lie to him any longer. Love cannot blossom among lies.

I yawned again. 'I need to rest,' I said quietly. The others looked at me, before nodding slowly.

'We'll come and check on you later,' Éomer said, as most walked out of the room.

Aragorn kissed me on the forehead, and I weakly struck at him for it. 'I'm not a child,' I muttered sleepily.

'I know.' His warm mouth covered mine again, and I moaned softly, as his warmth seemed to light up my own soul. I responded eagerly, pressing my lips against his firmly, before weariness overtook me. I was half asleep when he leaned me down onto the bed.

I murmured a protest when he withdrew his lips and hands. 'Aragorn…'

Aragorn smiled gently. 'Rest, dear one. I will return in a short while.'

I nodded, before I drifted off into sleep.

I was so exhausted that I never heard the window open a few hours later, or a silent figure slip through it and approach where I slept.

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Jerome smirked, drawing me back to the present. "Did you really believe that the king of Rohan's pitiful security could keep you safe from me? You must be losing your touch, Rogue."

I still said nothing. Jerome slapped me across the face with his free hand. I was just biding time until the moment to strike came. But I was at a disadvantage. The sword at my throat was my main concern. I needed to get it away from him, before he managed to kill me.

But I also knew that he wanted me alive. "Why do you want me alive?" I finally questioned.

"I already told you that once. You are worth a lot of money, Rogue. I should know," he said, sneering at me.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

An evil smile crossed his face. "I know what you went through for years. I was one of your customers, after all. You were very satisfying to me."

"You're insane," I hissed at him. I scanned through the memories I had of that place. I never remembered seeing him there. Then again, it had been just another rape to me. I wouldn't have noticed.

"Who's on the other end of the sword?" Jerome snarled. "Turn over, elf."

"Never," I snapped, through gritted teeth. "I would die first." I could sense his rage building, and knew that it would give me an edge. He wouldn't be so focused, being blinded with anger. A definite advantage for me over his strength and agility.

Jerome pressed the blade even more firmly into my throat. A tiny cut appeared, stinging, and blood began to trickle out of it. "You will die eventually, Rogue, but not until I'm finished with you. Now do as I said."

I pretended to comply, and turned over carefully, waiting for the moment went the sword lifted. A cold hand touched my bare back, and traveled downwards. I tensed and waited, as I felt him climb onto the bed and begin to fuss with my leggings. Then I struck.

My right foot lashed out and kicked the sword from his hand. I blessed Éomer for insisting that I learn to use all of my senses to their fullest, not just seeing. I'd heard the sounds of Jerome's grip shifting on the sword, and used that as a beacon.

Jerome snarled, as I swiftly turned and struck him with my other foot. He flew backwards, onto the floor. Blood trickled down his face from where my left foot had connected with his nose.

"I am not so easily taken any more, Jerome," I said, an unpleasant smile on my face. "Do me the honor of not underestimating me."

He searched around for his sword; I spotted it a moment before he did, and flung myself over there. I grabbed it up, and threw it through the open window. A low growl emerged from Jerome, before he rushed at me.

I fell to the ground, still tired and weak from the tremendous blood loss. Even elves could not recover that much blood in such a short time. His hands hit me several times, before I swung with my right fist, directly into his ribcage. We both heard cracking sounds, but it didn't seem to slow him down. Panic soared in me now.

A tearing sound caught my attention. Jerome was tearing at my bandages, probably to use them to bind me. I hoped that they had scabs on them, at least, as he tore them off and tried to tie my hands together. I would never win this fight, and I knew it. Jerome knew it as well, as he grabbed my hands and wrapped the bandages around them tightly.

So I took a deep breath, and yelled for help for the first time in my life. "Aragorn!" I shouted, as loudly as I could. "Éomer! Gimli! Frodo!"

Jerome backhanded me hard, and I spat blood out of my mouth. He straddled me, as I struck at him with my legs, but my strength was failing. My anger had given me strength temporarily, but even when I was at my best, Jerome was my fiercest opponent. I could never beat him when I was so weak. I glared at him, anger flashing in my green eyes. I heard the sounds of people running, as Jerome struck me hard again. My vision blurred as I lashed out with my right foot and managed to strike him.

"You'll be going back to where you belong, elf," Jerome snarled, as he began to bind my feet.

"Go to hell," I swore, struggling and squirming as he bound my feet.

Jerome scowled, but froze as he, too, heard the rapidly approaching footsteps. "We should go now," he smirked. "I have what I came for." He stood and easily lifted me, flinging me over his shoulder.

Desperation made me swing my bound hands hard into his back. I ignored the fact that they were bleeding, as he hissed in pain and flung me onto the floor.

"You'll pay for that, Rogue. I hold one of your old friends prisoner." Jerome approached me again.

"Who?" I demanded.

Jerome smiled evilly. "A certain girl we both know, whom you saved nearly five years ago. Lector sends you greetings, by the way. He is fond of her."

"You wouldn't dare to touch her," I retorted.

"Oh, she hasn't been touched. Come willingly back to where it all began, Rogue, or she will be hurt," he said, looking triumphant. "Continue to resist, won't you?"

Despair rushed over me. Go back to my past, I thought incredulously. I'd sooner die. But I had to save Lianna. I bowed my head in surrender. I could not fight him when he held her prisoner and would hurt her.

Jerome approached me, smirking, and grabbed a hold of my bound hands. "Let's go, elf."

The door burst open, and my friends stood there, before lunging forward.

Éomer and Aragorn drew their swords and confronted Jerome, who backed away, while Frodo and Gimli raced over to where I lay.

Gimli slit the bandages around my hands and feet with a dagger.

"Let him go!" I shouted as strongly as I could.

Jerome smirked, as Aragorn and Éomer turned to look at me in shock.

"I had a feeling you would see it my way, Rogue." His voice was a little too confident for my liking.

"You didn't give me a choice," I snapped, as I stood shakily. "I will return to where it all started." I approached him unsteadily, and glared into his eyes. "But if she is hurt in anyway, I will not rest until I see you dead. Understood?" My voice was cold and cruel, which is how my eyes probably looked.

A hint of fear shone in his eyes. "I will wait for you there. Take time to fully recover, Rogue, but not too long." Jerome sprang lightly out of the window.

"Who is he?" Aragorn demanded.

I turned to look at him. "My rival," I said, feeling numb again. "And I must do as he says, for he holds a friend prisoner." I turned to face them all.

"I am going with you," Aragorn said.

"This is my fight, Aragorn, and a personal one. I do not want to see you get hurt," I said.

Aragorn scowled at me. "I will follow you if you leave me behind, Legolas."

I sighed. Aragorn was serious, and I knew it. "All right. But no more can come. This will be a journey to confront my past and I want none of you to be in peril." And to preserve Liana's future, I added silently. "We leave when my wrists are healed."

Aragorn walked over to me, and touched me on the shoulder. I swayed slightly, and he supported me. One of his hands touched my face, before he stroked my hair. 'Once more, you are failed, Legolas.'

'I was going to tell you when I awoke, Aragorn,' I said quietly. 'I thought I'd have time to tell you before Jerome struck again.'

The others watched us silently.

To be continued