A/N: Here goes… I'm still alive, who'd have guessed? I actually was waiting for a review, but I never got the alert I had one… baaad :( Sorry everyone… Oh dear, my writing style has changed so much, makes me want to re-write the entire thing...

Chapter 11: Live to help

'Leave him now,' the head slaver ordered coldly. 'I want to finish him off myself.' Reluctantly the men stepped away from the still form of the elf they had been beating. Gilfaron lay on the floor, his eyes closed, and didn't react when Tôrach kicked him. The man bent over him and slowly closed his hands around the elf's pale throat. 'And you have been such a good slave over all the years,' he said. 'What a waste.'

Gilfaron half-opened his eyes and stared at him blankly. He didn't even try to struggle when Tôrach tightened his grip, slowly cutting off his airway. He didn't have the strength to fight anymore, neither physically nor mentally.

Black spots began to swim before his eyes as his lungs screamed for air they could not get; yet he still did not move. He merely closed his eyes, so that he would not have to see the cruel, sadistic smile of the man that was strangling him.

He was on the verge of losing consciousness when he heard one of the slavers call out to Tôrach. 'We've caught him again! And two others too!'

Tôrach released Gilfaron's throat and the elf rolled to his side, gasping for air. 'Let's leave this one now,' he said. 'We might still need him. He'll survive.' He kicked the beaten slave one last time, before turning and following the others out of the room.

// Oh, no// Gilfaron thought when he heard the door slam shut behind them.

// Valar, no//

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Gilfaron did not know how much time had passed in which he had just lain there, trying to calm his breathing, before he sat up and leaned against the wall.

It just couldn't be true. They had not only recaptured the king, but also taken two other elves. That it was actually their capture that had saved his life made Gilfaron feel guilty, although he knew he could have changed nothing.

Not long ago he had seen no more reason to hold on to that life, but now…. Ever since he had been a slave, all that had kept him alive had been his will to help the other captives. If not for that, he would have faded long ago. And now there were three that would need his help badly. And as he owed them his life, he would gladly risk it for them again.

He would have to look after them now. He was sure Thranduil's wounds would need treatment, and, knowing his captors, the other two were most likely injured as well.

He hardly spent a thought on his own injuries. They hurt, of course; breathing was still extremely painful and would be for some time. But that didn't matter now. They would heal with time, he told himself.

Gilfaron looked up when the door opened and a man stepped in. 'Get up and have a look at our new friends,' he just said. 'They're down in the Dungeon.'

He watched as Gilfaron slowly and shakily got to his feet, still having trouble breathing. 'Hurts, eh?' he commented. 'Serves you right.' He walked out and closed the door again.

Gilfaron remained standing there for a while, trying to gather his strength, before he too left the room and went down to the Dungeon.

The Dungeon was a small stone room deep below the house, where the captives stayed when they were either uninjured or very hard to break; it hardly happened that both were the case. The latter would be the reason why Thranduil was there, too.

He opened the heavy door and stepped into the room. The three captives' hands were held over their heads by manacles hanging from the ceiling, so high, that their feet barely touched the floor. // Even Thranduil// Gilfaron thought. He would have to get him down there as soon as possible; this wasn't doing any good for the king's injuries.

The two new captives were more or less hidden from Gilfaron's sight as they were hanging behind the king, but he paid them no heed for the moment and stepped closer to Thranduil. The king was only semi-conscious again. There was a makeshift bandage around his right arm that was stained with dry blood. // At least they did bandage it// he thought grimly.

He gently laid a hand on the king's shoulder, wondering whether he would recognize him. 'Gilfaron?' Thranduil asked weakly. 'Are you all right, mellon nîn?' Gilfaron squeezed his shoulder lightly once. /Yes. /

Thranduil gave a relieved sigh. 'Please see if my son is all right,' he said softly. Gilfaron's eyes widened in shock. 'Prince Legolas?'

'Yes, I am here.'

Gilfaron turned. The second captive was indeed the prince of Mirkwood. He was watching the elven slave intently, not yet sure what to make of him. 'And you are…?' It was a question.

'My name is Gilfaron, my Lord,' he said. 'I am a slave; I am here to see to your injuries.'

Legolas' hard gaze softened a bit when he took in the other elf's bad shape. 'You have been beaten,' he stated quietly. Gilfaron nodded and looked down; he did not want to speak about it to the prince.

Noticing this, Legolas decided to drop the subject, not wishing to go further into it. He still wasn't sure whether or not to trust the other elf, but his father had called him his friend, and it was hard to gain Thranduil's trust so fast. He would trust his father's judgement of Gilfaron for the time being.

'I am unhurt,' he told the other elf. He was sure he would not be if things had been but a bit different. He would have put up a fight, if not for his father, who was in no shape to fight, and for the fact that the men had suddenly brought Gaerfin too, unconscious, and threatened to kill him if they wouldn't surrender. So Legolas had, not daring to risk the lives of the two others.

'You had better look after him,' he now said, not unkindly, nodding in Gaerfin's direction. 'He is still unconscious.'

Gilfaron nodded obediently and turned to the third captive; he hadn't yet taken the time to even look at him. But when he now saw the face of the red-haired elf, he stopped dead in his tracks. If his heart had skipped a beat in shock when he had seen the prince, it now stopped completely.

'Valar, please, no,' he whispered. 'Not my little brother!'

TBC

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Calenlass: ---- AH! a cliffie! oh well...it just adds to the suspense. :-) ---- Well now, who would I be not to use the opportunity for a cliffie? Sorry I am so very late… And huge thanks to you for keeping up the reviews :)