Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

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Sold Into Ruin

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A/N: WOW. I can't believe it. Nearly 200 reviews!!!!!!! You guys are amazing and I am so pleased people actually like this story. Thanks to everyone who is reading this and everyone who has left a review or added me to their favourites/ alerts. Enjoy the next chapter.

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Chapter 37 ~ Commanding Visions

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Kallon stormed into the 6000 building, sending its occupants running in all directions, each afraid that he might have them in mind for torture that day. But Kallon had no interest whatsoever in the ordinary prisoners. He wanted only one person.

"Jadan," he shouted and immediately Jadan emerged from amidst the crowd, standing proudly in front of his kidnapper and commander.

"Yes sir?" Jadan answered politely, standing almost to attention.

"I am going to ask you to do something for me. I want you to follow my instructions to the letter. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Follow me." Kallon led Jadan outside away from the other slaves. Once out of earshot of the others, Kallon spoke again although still in low tones just in case they were overheard. "I want you to keep an eye on the Immortal and his little follower. Something is going on with them and I want to know exactly what it is they're really hiding. You will report anything significant to me immediately. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Do not mess this up or I'll have you beaten to within an inch of your life, got it?" Kallon threatened harshly.

"Of course, sir."

"Good. Remember keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Tell no one about this, not even the other guards." Jadan nodded again and Kallon walked away. He had been doing this for a while; acting as Kallon's informant. He had inside information on all the activities Kallon couldn't know about inside the buildings. Of course, most people knew what Jadan did, that he was a traitor, but they couldn't do anything about it.

This was one assignment Jadan would actually like though. Bringing the Elf and Man down would be fun.

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Aragorn had held Legolas tightly all night and the Elf had clung to him as though he were his only lifeline to this world. Not that Aragorn minded one bit. He knew exactly what Kallon had asked of Legolas in that torture room. He had asked about his true heritage and Legolas had not told him anything. That was why he had been so badly tortured.

Throughout the night Legolas had continued calling out softly for his mother. Once or twice he found himself in the throes of a vicious nightmare and Aragorn had simply held him tighter and tried his best to comfort him. He still didn't know exactly what Legolas had been through in that room with Kallon as the prince had not even stirred from his deep, distressed sleep.

Aragorn had treated him as best he could with his limited resources. His wounds were painful but mostly superficial – much like his own. Although Kallon seemed to have gone even further with Legolas than he had Aragorn. Maybe it was just his hatred for Elves that made him that much crueller.

It was night again before Legolas woke. It was slowly and painfully but he eventually began to stir in the man's arms. Aragorn loosened his grip again just in case Legolas wanted to bolt up – quite likely considering his earlier reaction. However, Legolas did not bolt. In fact, he didn't do much at all. He just lay there, trying to focus his eyes after his long sleep. Slowly, he looked up at Aragorn who was staring patiently down at him with concern shining in his impressive grey eyes.

"Nana?" Legolas asked in a hoarse, broken voice. He looked around the cell as if searching for her.

"Legolas, your mother is not here. You're here with me," Aragorn explained calmly, looking down sympathetically at Legolas.

Clarity dawned on Legolas a second later and he squinted up at Aragorn as though seeing him for the first time. "Estel? I thought…"

"That I was your mother?" Aragorn asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

"No," Legolas replied sadly after a moment. "I know we are close, mellon nin, but not quite that close," the Elf joked weakly and without any real humour.

"Glad to hear it. I don't think I could handle being a part of the Mirkwood Royal Family right now. Far too much responsibility." Legolas smiled softly. His eyes were now closed again and he was leaning heavily against Aragorn once more. The man held him for a moment before he sat up slowly. "How are you feeling?" Aragorn asked once the Elf had overcome his dizziness.

Legolas looked down at the cuts and gashes on his exposed arms and stomach, which had been only partially bandaged by the healer. "Good work…Lord Elrond," Legolas laughed. It earned him a playful – yet very careful – punch on the arm.

"That is the second time you've called me Elrond and it's starting to worry me," Aragorn said, willing to indulge his friend for the time being.

"I'm sorry."

After a few minutes Aragorn spoke again, knowing he had to ask the important but difficult question. "Legolas, you didn't tell Kallon anything about…"

"Of course not," Legolas snapped suddenly, clearly offended.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you would…" Aragorn stopped himself. Of course Legolas hadn't said anything. "What did they do to you?"

"Estel…" the Elf sighed.

"You came back here shouting for your mother. I have never seen you like that before, mellon nin. It frightened me. What did he do to you?" Aragorn asked again, determined to get an answer from his friend. He placed his hand gently on Legolas' arm, hoping to inspire trust. "Please talk to me, my friend. I'm only worried for you."

"He showed me…my mother; just as she was when I was little. It was so real, Estel. I mean, I know it wasn't real, she was just a …well, I don't know what she was but she wasn't really there. Of that much I am certain. She looked like Nana but she wasn't. She didn't sound like her. She – it – was cruel and harsh. It scared me, Estel," Legolas' voice was hollow, like he was recalling a far distant and painful memory.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? There's nothing you could have done about it," Legolas said distractedly.

"I know that Kallon asked you about me. That's what he really wants to know about, not the escape plan. I mean, that doesn't matter anymore anyway. Kallon knew that as soon as he brought us here." Aragorn stopped when Legolas bowed his head and closed his eyes. Aragorn looked to his friend with concern. "Legolas, what's wrong?" Had he said something to upset the Elf?

"Estel, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to say anything and I didn't exactly tell Kallon anything specific. But when he brought out my mother…for a moment she seemed so real – I think it was some kind of hypnosis or mind-reading – and she asked me about the plan and I didn't mean to say anything but she is my mother and…"

"And what?" Aragorn asked, meeting Legolas' troubled blue eyes.

"I told him about the escape plan. I told her about the escape plan. Not the details but the outline of it. I think Kallon knew about most of it already because he didn't seem too surprised. In fact, Nana…Kallon seemed more interested in you," Legolas blurted out as quickly as possible. It was heart-breaking to see any trace of hope disappearing from Aragorn's eyes.

Legolas knew that even though Torvan had betrayed them their escape plan would still have been viable. They had gathered some valuable information on guard rotations and such and Legolas had gone and told Kallon all about it. The man would triple his guard; change his patterns, which would make everything they had learned completely useless.

"I'm so sorry, Estel," Legolas said again, looking down at the ground in shame.

"Oh, Legolas," Aragorn sighed, pulling his friend close to him again. "None of that matters. There are other ways. Besides, Kallon didn't really care about the plan. That's not what this was all about, of that I am certain."

"I should never have told him anything, no matter what tricks he played on me. And it was all just a trick, wasn't it? Nana has been dead for hundreds of years, there's no way she could come back now. I told everything to an illusion. I risked our lives over something that wasn't even real."

"She was real to you," he whispered gently, feeling the Elf shuddering against him. "I know you would do anything for your mother and you are not to blame for thinking that she…"

"Was alive? You don't really believe in ghosts, do you?"

"She was your family and she was taken unfairly away from you. I know you suffer over her death, blame yourself for it even. I would have done exactly the same thing in your position," Aragorn reassured gently, holding Legolas tighter to himself.

"Why is it you seem to know so much about me when I tell you so little?" Legolas asked gently.

"Because after so many years I have learned to see right through that ridiculous Elven façade you try to keep up at all times. Every now and then it becomes just a little easier to see through and I get a quick glimpse of the real Legolas." The Elf laughed. "And Elrond told me," Aragorn added with a sly smile.

"Really? I'll have to speak to Elrond about that," Legolas mused only half-jokingly.

Soon both Elf and Man were drifting in the world of dreams again.

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Lothlorien…

Meanwhile, leagues away from the encampment where Legolas and Aragorn suffered from their cruel torture, Lady Galadriel was staring into the silvery water of the Mirror of Galadriel. What she had seen had shaken her badly. Not just the images but the despairing emotions that accompanied them. It was rare that she should be so connected to the images she saw in the enchanted waters but this time she could relate to the images on a more personal level.

The images were indeed disturbing: the capture of the Dunedain heir and the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, the 'encampment', the slaves, the deception of Gondor. Even worse than all that though was the striking vision of the lost Elf-maiden in white. Although dull and distorted the spectre was quite obviously the late Queen of Mirkwood; Thranduil's adoring wife, Legolas' loving mother.

Of course, Galadriel knew this couldn't possibly be real. The Queen had died nearly two and a half thousand years ago. Galadriel herself had attended the funeral, had counselled the distraught Legolas through his terrible grief, she had even seen the Queen die when she connected with Legolas' tortured mind. She had watched the family grieving over the Queen's death. In fact, she had touched the cold, dead body of the Queen as she lay in state. And yet there she was, in the Mirror, looking exactly the same as Galadriel remembered her when she was alive.

What was worse was that she had appeared to Legolas. For a split second Galadriel was not looking at the proud warrior prince he had become but at the frightened little Elfling of the past, spilling all his precious secrets to a mother he had thought lost forever. It was heart-breaking to watch Legolas almost revert back to childhood; a youth that had been so cruelly taken away from him. Galadriel could only imagine the pain the prince was feeling right then; seeing his mother alive, truly believing that she was real, and then realising in a sudden and horrible moment that she was nothing but an image, a ghost of the past sent to torment him further. To say his mother's death had hit the young prince hard would have been a massive understatement. He had spent every day since her death trying to recover but all that had been destroyed in one cruel moment and his barriers – carefully and painstakingly erected over the years – had been ripped down leaving him exposed and vulnerable once more.

Although she had not seen Legolas' reactions to the incident, Galadriel could almost feel his suffering. All those nights he had dreamed of his precious mother, of how horribly she had been stolen away from him but this was even worse. She had actually touched him. He had felt her soft, warm hands on his face and Galadriel had felt them too. Almost as though the hands had stretched from the Mirror and caressed her own face. It was, for want of a better word, spooky.

Spirits of the dead could not return from Mandos' Halls. The Queen could not have been real and yet Galadriel felt her as a physical presence, much the same as she felt Legolas and Aragorn. This was just impossible. The dead were incorporeal; they no longer had any kind of physical presence in this world.

The Elven life was divided into two: the hroa, the body and the fea, the spirit. When an Elf died the hroa was left behind, it died off and became nothing more than dust. The fea, meanwhile, was sent to the Halls of Mandos where the Keeper of the Dead kept them in the Halls of Waiting. The hroa remained on Arda whilst the fea lingered in the peace of Mandos' Halls for all eternity. Once divided the two could not rejoin. Only once had such a thing happened. Glorfindel, ancient Captain of Gondolin, had been resurrected, his spirit rejoined with his body and sent back to Middle Earth.

No matter how much Galadriel tried to reason it, the Queen could not come back, not in physical or spectral form. Legolas must have also known this. After a while he had worked it out. Yet, Galadriel had felt the Prince's relief when he first saw his mother back at his side and then the utter devastation upon realising she wasn't real after all. When the Queen had died it had broken Legolas and each reminder sent him a little closer to the edge, not that he would ever tell anyone about it. In fact, only the closest people to him knew anything about it. His father and Galadriel, Celeborn and Elrond had been there whenever Legolas needed them.

Thranduil, of course, had always been there for his son. The King himself suffered greatly over his wife's death and had at first found it hard to comfort his shattered son but his sense of love and duty had won over and he had been there faithfully for Legolas ever since. But then, Legolas had been as much as a support for Thranduil as the other way around. He was, after all, the only remaining testament of the Queen's life and Thranduil had held Legolas close to him ever since, becoming almost insanely protective over his only son.

The guilt that Legolas had suffered over his mother's death – he believed he had been the reason for her death when he had left her alone with the Orcs – had only made things harder. Thranduil, although still mourning the death of his wife, had been with his son through every horrific nightmare he had suffered, every night he couldn't close his eyes because of the images of his battered and broken mother that haunted him.

And now this had all been dragged up again, brought once more to the forefront of Legolas' mind. Galadriel knew that the Prince was stronger now. He was older and more capable of taking care of himself but she also understood that, where his mother was concerned, he was still worryingly fragile.

Galadriel could only hope that he was strong enough to cope with this; to hold himself together until he had a chance to lean on his father for support. Thranduil himself was no doubt frantic with worry by now. This would be a real test for Legolas and Aragorn. The young man would learn more about Legolas than he ever had before and, whether he knew it yet or not, would need every ounce of his strength to help his friend through this.

The Lady of Light saw all of this in her Mirror. She felt all of it. Now she could only do one thing for her friends. She swept into her husband's office and related to him everything she had seen in the Mirror.

"I'll summon the Galadhrim," Celeborn said firmly, standing and striding out of the room without further question or comment. If they couldn't heal the Prince of Mirkwood's pain they could at least aid in his escape.

To Be Continued…

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Translations:

Mellon nin – My friend

Arda – Earth