Aldred was furious at the sight before him – Elias who had feigned tiredness to their hosts in order to leave the table quickly – was straddling the elf and performing some sort of water torture on it. Aldred saw red as he hissed at Elias to get off the elf. Really what on earth did the boy think he was doing? Had all his men gone mad? As if what the gruesome twosome had just done upstairs wasn't bad enough did he also have to deal with Elias' nonsense too? He had thought the boy had some wits about him.

Elias jumped up and stumbled backwards the hatred in his eyes that had been directed at the elf softening and swiftly turning into fear.

Good, Aldred thought angrily as he stomped over and ripped the cloth from the elf's face allowing him to take a gasping breath, Elias should be fearful. Aldred needed this elf to be alive and reasonably healthy when he sold it at the slavers market. He would not stand for anyone doing anything to the elf that would lower its value. As much as he valued Elias' uncannily good tracking and stealth skills he would sooner slit his throat than miss out on his prize. He knew of a slave master who would pay generously indeed for elves for they were so hard to capture. Aldred would be able to finally leave the dangerous world of mercenary missions behind him. Yes, Elias would have to be punished at some point but first they had business to take care of.

The brothers grim had done something exceptionally stupid and now they had to make haste and leave before any of the villagers found out. Damn those two.

Aldred looked down at the elf on the floor who had curled into a ball as best it could with its limbs tied. It was taking in gulping breaths and Aldred noticed with rising anger that its lips were a faint blue. Damn all his men, he thought furiously, damn them all to Mordor.

"Get the elf bagged up again boy – we're leaving and if you harm one golden hair on his head I will kill you," Aldred snarled at Elias.

"T-Tied up Captain?" Elias was confused – why were they no longer spending the night here?

The look Aldred levelled at him was murderous, "Yes boy, tie him up and ready our gear." Aldred sounded out the words carefully as though he were speaking to a dim witted child.

"Yes Captain."

Aldred gave a grunt before storming back up the stairs no longer trying to move quietly or act with any decorum and why should he? Thanks to Samer and Saveric, his resident idiots in chief, the couple who had offered them shelter now lay slain on their own floor along with their daughter who had popped in to visit her parents.

Aldred had to grit his teeth and remind himself of the reasons why it would be more helpful to him to keep the duo alive than to run them through with his sword here and now.

He strode into the living area of the cabin and glanced with distaste at the bodies on the ground. They could not be left there – the later the other villagers discovered the deaths of this family the better. Samer and Saveric shuffled into the room sheepishly and Aldred sighed, forcibly removing his hand from the hilt of his sword – he had hoped for an easy night but it was clear now that it would be just the opposite.

~o~

The call of a crow rang through the crisp, misty morning air. Faervel gave his shoulders a slight shrug, rolling them to loosen tension that had gathered in his upper arms before knocking an arrow and pulling back his bow string. His eyes were trained on the men below him who had awakened and were now about to have their breakfast and he had to smile at the timing.

Faervel forced himself to calm and to wait patiently for Aithel's next signal. It was hard however for though they had done a round of the men's makeshift camp they hadn't spotted a single elf out in the open. Faervel guessed they were keeping his fellows in one of the small tents they had pitched.

He flexed the fingers holding his bow slowly, he was impatient to kill these men and get down there to see Legolas again and ensure that his friend was hale. Guilt raced through Faervel at the thought of how much he was focused on Legolas and he gave his head a small shake. He was just as worried for Arasson and Hadril but Legolas - though he did not know it - was Faervel's charge. Faervel suppressed a sigh, Legolas had no idea about the pledge Faervel had taken to become his bodyguard, the oath he had sworn to protect Legolas' life with his own. In fact none knew save King Thranduil and Faervel's Naneth.

Faervel tightened his grip on his bow – he wasn't doing a very good job of keeping his oath now was he? If he had not been so weak Legolas would not be with those men right now. He was the one who had dropped Legolas to his doom after all. He had just been so startled at the scream Legolas gave – still – that was no excuse for his poor performance as a Royal bodyguard. Faervel was pretty certain King Thranduil would not be impressed.

He had no more time to reflect as the piercing cry of a crow again rang clear through the air. Faervel aimed and then let his arrow fly – straight and true into the neck of one of the edain who stood as a lookout at the edge of the camp. Arrows showered down upon the men who panicked and scrambled about madly trying to get into the few tents scattered around the small clearing. Within a matter of moments most of the men had forced themselves into the small canvas dwellings hoping to take refuge from the arrows raining death down upon them.

Faervel shook his head at the futility of the men's actions – did they really think cowering in tents would save them from the wrath of the elves? He slung his bow secure upon his back before he pulled out his long knives and hopped down to the pine needle strewn ground. It was time for the men to face the consequences of their foolish actions. He advanced upon one tent noting in the corner of his eyes that his fellow warriors were doing them same. There were only six of them and around sixteen to seventeen men – arrows had taken care of six of them though so the odds were much more favourable now.

Faervel stabbed his knife into the material of one tent before dragging it downwards forcefully to reveal three men cowering within. He smiled at them before flinging one of his knives into the neck of the one furthest from him, bringing up his other knife just in time to block a rather weak blow from another of the men who had had the presence of mind to reach for a weapon. He lunged at the men brandishing his one knife wickedly. Both men scrambled backwards getting tangled in the material of the ruined tent and Faervel seized his opportunity. Before either man could blink he had flung his knife into one of the men's neck before he leapt forward, plucked both knives free, whirled round and slit the neck of the remaining man.

Faervel flicked a loose strand of dark hair from his face as he straightened and scanned the camp – neither Legolas, Arasson nor Hadril had been in the tent that lay destroyed at his feet and he wondered where they might be. His senses suddenly screamed at him and he moved just in time to avoid a crossbow bolt to the head. Faervel narrowed his eyes at the man who had just tried to shoot him and jumped to the side as the man shot at him again. Faervel slipped behind a tree and was about to look around it when movement caught his eye near the very edge of the clearing. Or rather a colour had caught his eye – a glimpse of gold – fine strands of it wafting in the air before being bundled up onto a horse.

Steeling his resolve Faervel pulled his bow off his back and jumped out from his hiding place swiftly dropping to one knee to get the perfect angle to shoot his current tormentor in the throat. That problem taken care of he shot off a few more arrows in rapid succession taking down another two edain before he had to dart up into a tree as a sharp dagger was thrown his way. From the safety of the branches he shot that adan too before swapping back to his long knives as he darted through the branches towards where he was sure he had spotted Legolas.

Of course the man was no longer still there but he was not very far ahead and Faervel caught up to him easily slithering through the branches above with ease before he dropped down in front of the man's horse causing the animal to rear up sharply. The adan held on though and Faervel had to jump out of the way as the horses great hooves came back down and kicked out. The man swung wildly with his sword at him and Faervel blocked it, the force of the blow ringing up his arms. Perhaps, Faervel thought as he fended off another attack, he ought to have stayed in the trees - the man had the advantage of height as long as he stayed seated upon his horse and Faervel was finding it hard to attack in any meaningful way.

His back touched solid wood and with an annoyed curse at himself Faervel realized he had allowed the man to back him into a corner – a cluster of trees that grew tightly together. Still he would not give in so easily and with great regret he lashed out at the man's horse catching the animal on its leg and chest which caused it to fall back with a pitiful whiny. Faervel hated himself then – he was a wood elf – a lover of animals and it hurt him to have to hurt this horse but needs must.

Still the man was unperturbed as he forced his horse forward again and swung his sword with some force towards Faervel's neck. Faervel crossed his knives in front of him blocking the man's attack but no sooner had he done so than the man was attacking again. Faervel fought desperately as he blocked, dodged and wished. Wished he had told one of his fellows where he was going, wished he had stayed in the trees and shot this man from above, wished that he hadn't allowed himself to be backed into a corner. And more than anything he wished he could get to Legolas' limp body that he could see flailing around on the back of the man's horse like a rag-doll.

~o~

Blacwin continued his attack upon the elf who was putting up a crazy and desperate fight, and in all honesty Blacwin himself was getting more than a bit desperate. His arm ached fiercely with the strain of his repeated failed attacks upon the elf who infuriatingly blocked every move. It was also getting harder and harder to keep his horse under control the beast moving wildly around beneath him in an attempt to get away from the elf's wicked looking daggers. He would not let his horse move further backwards however as he forced the animal to press ever closer to the elf. Blacwin swung his sword again and was annoyed to meet with thin air as the elf had ducked and rolled back a bit further into the copse of trees.

Ha, thought Blacwin full of glee – that was a foolish move from the elf – it was truly trapped now. Brutally stabbing into his horse's sides with his spurs he forced the animal closer to the elf hoping to deliver a death blow. He was surprised however as his horse let out a horrifying, shrieking type of sound and reared up high until it began to fall over onto its side. Too late Blacwin tried to leap free but in his panicked haste his leg caught in one of the stirrups and pain raced through him as his left leg was crushed under the bulk of his horse.

~o~

Faervel had seen the death blow coming before the man even had a chance at executing it and with a fervent prayer to Yavanna for forgiveness he plunged both knives deep into the throat of the man's horse. The horse had reacted as expected and reared up in horror and pain and blood spurted from the wounds as the horse fell backwards onto its wretched owner who was now caught fast trapped by his leg. The horse continued it's pitiful, ghastly whinnies as it jerked its head and legs in its final death throes.

Faervel rested his bloodied hand gently on the horses head asking it for forgiveness and uttered another prayer before putting it out of its pain with a quick flick of his knives. That miserable task done Faervel leaped around the horse's body and quickly cut Legolas free. Gathering his friend's frail form in his arms he whipped off the rough sack the men had used as a hood and flung it behind him. The glittering golden hairs went flying along with the sack and Arasson's battered face appeared as his own rich red hair tumbled free. Faervel's heart lurched and his stomach dropped – he was shocked that the elf he held was not Legolas but he was most shocked by the sight of how badly Arasson was injured. He hastily wiped one of his bloody hands clean on his breeches before running it softly through Arasson's flaming red hair and gave him a gentle kiss to his temple. He could not believe how terrible his friend looked – could not imagine what he had suffered. He quickly tamped down on his wild fear over what treatment Legolas may be suffering – he needed a clear mind and he needed to focus on who was here with him now.

Anger surged through him unchecked however as he raised his head to look over at the man who was still frantically flailing around trying to free himself from the bulk of his horse. He wanted to kill the man here and now but he was loathe to put Arasson down. At the sudden rustle of shrubbery Faervel's hand had shot out and grabbed one of his discarded knives even as he held Arasson tighter to him. He calmed though seeing it was Thoron who had come to seek him out.

"Arasson," Thoron gasped his fellows name before falling down upon his knees besides Faervel. With a trembling hand he tenderly stroked Arasson's hair. "Will…will he…will he live?"

Faervel gave a long sigh as he looked down at his fellow warrior with the trained eyes of a healer for the first time.

"I know not – we must get him warm and tend his wounds," taking another close look at Arasson he shook his head sadly, "I will do my best for him but truly I do not know how he will fare – if we are too late. Here take him. I must see to this adan."

Faervel had snarled the last word even as he gently transferred Arasson to Thoron's strong arms.

"He is not worth it Faervel – we have already killed all who did not surrender - do not waste anger on him. If you kill do so quickly and cleanly. We have found Hadril and she fares the same as Arasson. We must leave this place and get back to the Wood," he paused and looked over his shoulder, "We will be in need of your healing skills, do not be overlong. Kill him if you must then come. And Faervel worry not – we will find the Prince."

Faervel gave Thoron a curt nod before he gathered his other knife and stalked over to the stricken man.

~o~

Blacwin stopped his futile struggling as the shadow of the elf leaned over him bloodied knives in plain view. Cursing all his luck and Aldred's back-stabbing carcass most of all he fixed pleading, desperate eyes on the elf.

"Do not kill me – I know where your leader elf is."

The angry dark haired being before him gave no sign of understanding and only twirled his knives in his hand menacingly.

"The…the golden elf – he had golden hair…the one you still seek – I know where he is – damn it elf do you understand me?"

"Oh I understand you perfectly well môr-adan," the elf snarled in heavily accented Westron, "and now you should understand me – if your information does not lead us to find our friend safe, hale and whole I will show you in perfect, painfully slow detail why wood elves are considered more dangerous."

~o~

Legolas cursed himself as a small pained moan broke free from his lips – he did not want to give the man whose horse he was upon any satisfaction. He had somehow ended up being placed upon the horse of the young adan who had started water torturing him before they had been interrupted. Everything had then been a mad rush as he was swiftly bundled back up again and the men snuck out with him back into cold night. Legolas wondered at the swift, panicked change of plans - the men had been in such a hurry to leave that they had forgotten to 'dose him up' with that sweet smelling poison again.

And now Legolas could not decide if that was for better or for worse. He felt every bump and dip in the path acutely and he was sure that the adan rode his horse into such pits on purpose. Legolas' shoulder and ribs screamed at him and his blood pounded in his ears so hard he couldn't focus on listening to his surroundings. His feet and hands had long stopped tingling and were now numb and Legolas was really starting to get tired of the scratchy, rough material of his hood against his face. The forced darkness was not helping either.

A winded gasp left his lips this time as the horse again jolted and pain speared him. Legolas grit his teeth as he heard the man chuckle – and he made a small pledge to himself there and then to remain silent no matter the level of his pain. He would provide no further amusement for these ŷn yrch.

TBC.

Naneth - Mother

Edain – (Plural of Adan) Men

Adan – Man

Môr-adan – Dark (Evil) Man

Ŷn yrch – Sons (ŷn is plural on ion) of Orcs (Yrch is plural of orch)