Dementia

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Aragorn's Price

It had been three days since Hrethel and Hugin had returned back to the cave without explanation as to where they had been. Helluin had given up caring, as long as they weren't causing mischief. However, Legolas' Elven perceptiveness easily pinpointed their well masked merriment. Something had made them happy and he wasn't so sure he liked that idea at all. With their kind it couldn't possibly be anything good, but then again, they had no motive to cause him trouble right now.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't very easily deny the fact that these men –however much they grated on his nerves –had saved his life. Legolas shook his head, pulling the cloak of Hrethel tighter around his bruised, but healing, body. He hated feeling in debt to anyone –least of all people he didn't like.

Oh blessed Manwë! He was starting to think too much. Something he had learned a long time ago: over analyzing didn't help anyone, least of all the person doing it.

He had never been good at following anyone else's advice, let alone his own, and he soon found himself mulling the past events over in his mind. There were bits and pieces missing, where he was certain that he had been either unconscious, or in too much pain for coherent thought.

A long, drawn out sigh hissed through clenched teeth at the thought of his friends. The very thought of what they could be going through –the thought of them living through something worse than death, stung somewhere inside. His heart felt raw. The prince had experienced enough wounds to know how badly they stung when cleansed with various solutions, and that pain didn't even come close to how he felt inside.

Helluin came and sat silently beside him –not too close, but close enough. He wasn't Roth, not at all. However, his presence was comforting, and his Elven glow as starting to return, radiating light and illuminating the small grotto. White light reflected off the moist, dripping rocks and stalagmites. It even seemed to drip with the water.

"We are going to have to leave tonight," Hugin informed from his isolated corner towards the back. He spent a lot of time back there, Legolas noted, it was though he feared the light.

Hrethel turned around from where he had been staring out the cave entrance, his face projecting incredulity. He obviously wanted to argue with his brother, but not here. This was not the place for arguments as long as Helluin was present. He had a feeling that her nerves were grated down as far as they could go. The way she sat so still and quiet –composed, gave him the feeling that everything was only building up inside. Like a volcano, she would erupt. It was just a matter of when.

"I am going to go and scout out the area first," Hrethel insisted, turning his face back to the sunlit world beyond the cave's shadows. "We are being hunted, or have you forgotten that?"

Helluin gave a small twitch – really a flinch, as though she had been slapped.

Hrethel pretended not to notice. Legolas' eyes narrowed uneasily as he watched her.

Hugin didn't argue with his brother. Resigning himself to Hrethel's decision, he shrugged slightly. "I'll guard here then. But you know something? We are going to have to leave here anyway. It can't get much more dangerous than it already is."

"I want to know what we are facing!" Hrethel snapped, his hand pounding against the side of the cave. The skin broke against the jagged stone and spotted with small droplets of blood. He didn't seem to notice. "Ulfang is not going to sit idly once he finds out what we have done!"

It was safe to say that they were walking dead.

:0Ї0:

If there was one thing that Derufin hated, it was embarrassment. Actually, there was not really any thing that he hated more than embarrassment besides utter and total humiliation.

Heat rose to his face, engulfing it in a full combustion of his capillaries before he had a chance to rein in his rising temper. Or well, attempt to rein it in. He was livid.

His face continued to change colors as waves of rage rippled through his system.

Stalking through the dark, cold corridors of the lower levels of the dungeons, he didn't even bother to try and appear collected before the various prisoners. They all pressed their faces to the bars, gazing at him with either trepidation or astonishment.

Someone was in trouble. Someone was going to pay.

That ranger had given him information, but he should have known it had come way too easily. Maybe he had known. No, he buried that thought. None of this was his fault. It was that ranger's.

Unferth was the one who had discovered the coughed up information to be false. It had appeared flawless and legitimate at first glance, but military experience had easily exposed it for the contrivance that it was. Reveling in his glory and the thought of gaining the upper hand, Unferth had been all too pleased to divulge all of this to Ulfang in the worst light possible.

Derufin had seen Unferth get chewed out by their lord, as well as others, but he himself had never experienced it. For the first time he found himself playing the part of the unfortunate fool fumbling into a floor-kissing bow, and pleading for another chance. Unferth had looked on, not even bothering to hide the amusement that shined from his sadistic face.

Failure. He had never failed before. Fear. He had never felt it before. Someone was going to pay dearly for making him feel these things. He couldn't reap vengeance on Ulfang (of course) and Unferth was close enough to untouchable now.

Rothinzil sat up and slowly crawled to the back of his cell as his sharp Elven ears detected the echoing noise of footsteps making their way down the hall. Shivering a little, he buried his face against his arms, no longer too proud to hide his fear. Out of sight, out of mind –he willed away his surroundings.

But the footsteps didn't stop at his cell. They stomped determinedly past, deliberate, and slow.

Daring to raise his head, the Elf hazarded to guess that Derufin was heading to Aragorn's cell. Swallowing, Rothinzil found himself wondering what on earth was going on. Aragorn had complied with them, had he not?

Confused, the Elf quietly inched his aching, emaciated body forward. The clinking of his chains echoed hollowly from the surrounding walls and he flinched back, retreating, and folding himself back into the corner. Miserable, and even more scared, he winced as he felt his heart hammering against his arms that were wrapped snugly around his chest.

A half hearted yelp sounded from the cell further down. Rothinzil's sharp Elven ears caught it, allowing it to reverberate through his head in rapid succession. "Strider!" His voice was octaves below a murmur and half choked, as though he had swallowed a mouthful of dust. The prolonged disuse had proved slightly damaging. "Strider!" he choked feverishly, willing his trembling legs to hold his weight as he dragged himself to his feet.

For the first time in days he felt the full weight of his chains pulling at his arms and ankles. Feeling anchored in place, Roth braced himself against the wall. No matter what Aragorn may have done to him, or not done, he had sworn to Legolas that he would protect the human. But he wasn't able to do that. He was worthless, falling apart. He was a failure.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, sliding down the wall. "Legolas, forgive me."

Another yelp resounded from further down the hall and Roth flinched as though he had been slapped. A throbbing started between his eyes, escalating into an exploding headache. In this damp, dark, cold place his Elven body was starting to reach its limits. The stress of Aragorn's pained cries was too much for his overtaxed system to bear. They broke upon his already tortured mind like waves on the delicate sands of a white and balmy beach.

Meanwhile, Aragorn was just as surprised as the Elf was. Though, it wasn't so much because Derufin was out for his blood. He had known that would happen. He was merely impressed with the time it took for the men to recognize false information. And here he thought it would take longer… Ah well, live and learn.

"You lied, ranger." Derufin's voice was thick, yet calm -dangerous. His dark brows came together and his lips twitched up into an alarming snarl. In a way, Aragorn could honestly say that he had scene rabid dogs that looked less vicious. A moment after this observation, his aching brain reminded him that being able to up with such an analogy was not a good sign.

"I am wounded. I mean, that would be such a breach of trust between us, wouldn't it?" his voice was hoarse, like this vocal cords were grating together. He had not spoken for days, after all, and water was not regularly measured out in this place.

Derufin's snarl became even more twisted. "Indeed." The word escaped his mouth through a set of very clenched teeth. His blood pressure was obviously unstable, as well as unnaturally high.

Aragorn's next thought was: I am surprised someone of your kind works so hard to discover the truth, amazing. But common sense and his scratchy throat intervened when he tried to say it. Hiding his first intentions, Aragorn coughed a little and swallowed. Honestly, he could feel his body –even at times his spirit, failing him. He was crumbling piece by piece. As weak as he was, he finally had to admit to himself that there was nothing else he could do but surrender to the situation at hand. He sent a silent, fleeting prayer that Rothinzil had not fallen to this state.

Unfortunately, he had the sinking feeling that the Elf was more than willing to die, and release his spirit from his broken body.

Aragorn was suddenly snatched from his thoughts when Derufin's heavy, clod of a boot collided with his ribcage and he was thrown into a fit of hysterical coughing. His diaphragm spasmed, and just when he thought it was over, he coughed again. Chained the way he was against the wall, there was precious little that he could do about it. Blood started in an almost imperceptible trickle down the corner of his mouth as something ruptured inside.

"I'm waiting for the truth, ranger." Derufin's voice was empty, cold and ruthless. "And I don't necessarily need you to get it. That Elf is still around."

"It…really…i-i-isn't g-going to m-matter what I s-s-say though," Aragorn spoke through a slurred voice. He was really surprised Derufin had not killed him already.

Derufin smiled, but it never reached his eyes. As a matter of fact, Aragorn didn't really think it could be called a smile. It was its own gesture –cold and foreboding. "Correct. Still, I would comply if I were you."

Aragorn sighed inwardly. He was getting so tired of this. Or was he getting tired, period? Fuzzily, he decided that he simply didn't know anymore. He didn't care enough to even want to know. Relaxing against his shackles, Aragorn closed his eyes to prepare himself for the inevitable.

"What are you doing, ranger?" Derufin snarled, irritated at the lack of reaction he had received. It was no fun to take revenge out on an impassive individual.

"Waiting," Aragorn replied dryly, not even looking up, "Waiting, because I am not going to tell you a s-s-single thing."

Derufin did smile then. It was a smile that promised agonies. It was a smile that promised annihilation. It was a smile that all but promised murder. "I was hoping you would say that."

Aragorn was grateful that he was merely imagining the look on his tormentor's face, because he knew that literally seeing it would shatter his resolve.

:0Ї0:

Rothinzil had stopped shaking. His eyes were focused, fixated. A water droplet made its winding way down the wet wall, gradually weaving around the slime and other sticky growths. Hazel eyes followed it with tedious accuracy.

The Elf drew a deep breath and held it. Then he continued with his fixation. He exhaled.

Moments later, another scream ruptured the eerie silence and Rothinzil flinched hard, sinking his teeth into his lower lip enough to draw blood. The copper flavored liquid trickled into his mouth and outlined his teeth with crimson. But the self-inflicted wound went unnoticed.

Why would anyone watch a water droplet that closely? Like their life depends on it? Well, because as far as Rothinzil was concerned, his life did depend on it. Maybe not literally, but as long as he had something else to concentrate on then he could drown out all else that he didn't want to believe existed. Like the cell, for instance, the screams…and the pain -especially the pain. Oh, and he couldn't forget the fear.

But maybe those weren't the things that he really wanted to drown out.

Maybe all he really wanted to forget was his failure. But no matter how far he willed his concentration to take him, the growing, pained screams always sucked him back. His concentration shattered every time, even if his face never changed. He was consistently reminded that he was helpless, and because of his helplessness, someone else was helpless.

You failed.

Roth's eyes clouded.

Not only that, you are failing.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

You're an idiot, too.

He should have never mistrusted Aragorn. The human had not betrayed him. He knew that now. Aragorn would not be screaming in agony if he had complied with these people. They wouldn't have reason to harm him. They would have executed him. He wouldn't be taking up their time, space, and energy if he wasn't essential anymore.

Mulling this over in his mind, Rothinzil blinked, purposefully breaking the hypnotism of the water droplet. A small sort of warm feeling seemed to beat with his blood, and his hands involuntarily clenched in resolve. Suddenly, breathing itself seemed easier. He had almost forgotten what hope felt like. It was only a spark, but it was enough to banish his suicidal thoughts far from his mind. Aragorn was alive. Aragorn was needed. These people didn't have what they wanted.

:0Ї0:

Aragorn was having similar thoughts, but it was becoming increasingly harder to focus on them. As a matter of fact, he had discarded the mere idea of trying to focus a long time ago. It was beyond feasible, especially with all these multicolored dots floating before his vision. His blood felt like it was boiling…a sign he was losing far too much of it.

Derufin's heavy breathing and rustic, throaty laughter continued through his haze. Honestly, Aragorn felt like he was wrapped in blankets of warm clouds. Idly, the back of his mind thought Derufin should vent more often –because when he let out pent up anger, he let it out with an obliterating cruelty.

He had started with merely finding the most painful of combinations for his first to meet Aragorn's flesh, or his boots to smash against his body, but things had quickly escalated. They were bound to from the beginning. Soon, he had taken some chain from the corner, where someone had discarded it, and used to repeatedly strike Aragorn in his already beyond-tender ribs. This had elicited a scream or two from the overly exhausted ranger almost immediately. Aragorn knew that felt just about as bad as he looked –worse, perhaps.

He wondered what trouble Rothinzil was in now. Surely, the Elf couldn't bear anymore abuse. His overly soft heart was melting away, killing him from the inside out. Elves could die of broken hearts. They didn't even have to physically harm the warrior anymore. Aragorn knew that if he died, then chances were that Rothiznil would leave this world as well. He was much like Legolas that way. Honestly, that princeling had really rubbed off on him. Just what we all need, he thought sarcastically, another stubborn, pious Elf.

The ranger's thoughts were shattered when Derufin decided that the bruise on Aragorn's right cheek needed to be a shade darker in order to match the bruise on his left. The man's fist connected squarely with its mark and Aragorn's skull smacked against stone. A soft, but still sickening crack reverberated through the room.

This was all that Aragorn's wavering, fickle consciousness could bear. It went under, sucking Aragorn down with it.

Derufin gawked angrily as the ranger slumped into his bonds and his head fell onto his chest. If Derufin's bulging muscles and clothes were splattered with sweat and blood, it was nothing compared to Aragorn's bare skin –which sported old torture marks alongside angry black and blue blotches. Panting with the exertion he had put forth, Derufin turned his back on the human. A sadistic, and clearly enraged, grin spilled across his face, pulling back his lips to reveal his neglected teeth.

Exiting the cell, he returned shortly. However, he didn't return alone.

Rothinzil hit the floor hard, staying there, too confused and scared to move. He wanted to, but he couldn't. Wide Hazel eyes stared unseeingly at the dirty stone an inch away from his nose. He shoulders unnoticeably shivered.

:0Ї0:

One, two, three, four…five, five idiots, Hrethel calculated silently, these idiots being Ulfang's soldiers. He wasn't overly worried. Together, five of them managed to have one full brain between them. But if there were more than five…even enough to make a brain and a half, they might have a problem on their hands. And it was most likely that Unferth was leading them. He weighed a bit heavier on the scales of intelligence, but not much. However, he weighed very heavily on the scales of cruelty and arrogance.

Hugin sighed dejectedly. "Of course they would show up here eventually." "Here" being the city of Dale. Unferth had brought his forces down from the hills to mix with the people of Dale. Thank the Valar for small favors: they stood out like black on white. "We should be able to elude these guys."

"Should," Hrethel recited skeptically back. His look and tone left no room for imagination about his opinion. He was beyond incredulity. He was downright pessimistic, which wasn't unusual.

"We have to," Hugin's reply was sharp, annoyed. He didn't have time for pessimism –whether he felt it or not. This was the sort of situation that was going to take some faith to fight through.

Hrethel understood his brother's thoughts. As twins they were practically connected by in invisible cord. However, despite his empathy towards his brother, he couldn't help but feel obligated to keep Hugin from getting ahead of himself. He couldn't allow arrogance to form. Level heads meant everything.

Hugin silently bemoaned Hrethel's skeptical nature. Sure, it had served them well in the past, but he had thought that they were leaving the past behind. He had thought that they were starting over. Apparently Hrethel wasn't quite ready.

"Alright, we will try to elude them, but we take all precautions, no matter how painstaking they are," the elder twin ground out, frustrated. He huffed silently, obviously swallowing back his mounting discontent with the situation. He would make himself sick rather than say what he thought.

Hugin smiled slightly at his brother's consent to proceed. "Alright, I will go back and get Helluin and Legolas."

"Not so fast, we have no idea where Unferth is." Hrethel's fingers snagged his brother's tunic, pulling him closer, and nearly tearing the fabric with the earnest strength of his grip. "The last thing we need to is to separate and let him catch one of us alone."

Hugin dared to smirk. "Brother, your concern is touching but-"

"Oh don't get cocky with me, you idiot!" Hrethel snarled in retort, unwilling to hide his disconcertion any longer. His eyes were narrowed into fiery little slits of grey flame. "Unferth is capable of more than he looks. He's an absolute fool, but a dangerous one. Since when are you so rash you thrust your own safety aside?" He looked as though he wanted to strike his brother, and he probably would have, but he felt the world around him growing hazy. Sounds were fading out. Another blind spell. Instead of striking his brother, he fell against him. Hrethel's fingers clutched at the fabric of Hugin's tunic.

Hugin had to fight the urge to pull away. His deteriorating body didn't like to suffer physical contact anymore. It couldn't. Bruises easily appeared and even if they didn't, they still formed below in the deeper layers of his flesh.

"I'm sorry," Hrethel murmured almost too softly for Hugin to hear.

"So am I, brother, so am I."

Moments later, only when Hrethel's site returned, they broke the embrace. "I'm going back for them," Hugin announced quietly, in a whisper. "You stay here and keep an eye on those fools. As you said, we need to know where our enemies are."

Too tired from the blind spell and energy-sucking dizziness, Hrethel merely nodded. His face was ghastly pale and clammy. Even his lips looked like death. Though they were twins, Hrethel resembled Hugin now more than he had for the past few years. It was sort of fitting that the identical brothers should suffer from the identical illness. "How long have you had it?"

"Since you have."

Hugin was taken aback.

Silence, then, "That long?"

Hrehtel smiled tensely. "I didn't want to worry you. I needed to protect you. Years or minutes younger, it matters not, you're my little brother."

How long did you know I was ill? How long was I so obvious, while you hid your illness with everything you had, simply to protect me? Touched but unwilling to admit it, Hugin had to blink rapidly to dispel any tears that might have otherwise blurred his vision. Clasping hands with his brother in a strong shake of camaraderie and loyalty, he gave a sharp nod. "I'll be back soon."

Their hands slid apart, almost in slow motion, and then Hugin turned his back on his brother. Soon he had disappeared from view.

TBC…

Yeah, a bit of a cliffy in this chapter. Lol But there was also more Aragon angst for those of you who wanted it. We are getting a bit more time lately, and the ideas are also flowing easier. Although, we are going to kind of have to accept that this story might not get finished with the same complexity that we thought it would, but we are REALLY trying.

Thanks for all the encouraging reviews. Please, don't stop. We love them all soooo very much!!!!

Also, no, the brothers are not vampires. Sorry if the sarcasm in there confused anyone. It was meant as one of their twisted versions of a joke.

And now I am off to finish up a commissioned artwork, drink some tea and read a book. Dr. Zhivago is turning out to be very good -very complicated, mind you, but very good. Not that you guys really care, but still.