Note: Only Sarag is my character! The rest are not! This chapter is Rated R! Deals with violence, death, and attempted rape! Sorry for the delay! Thanks, Property of Legolas, for the inspiration in your email. Starts in normal POV! This is the last chapter of this fic! I want at least ten reviews before I write a sequel!

Return From Death

Part 14

The figure who lay on the courtyard suddenly let out a shuddering gasp. He coughed up blood, as his eyes slowly returned to normal. Thank god for Elven blood, he thought, as he struggled to stand and froze when he realized that his opponent was gone.

He cursed himself, for he had gotten away once more. But then the figure realized something.

"Oh god," he swore. He knew exactly where to go. The figure sat up grimly, ignoring the severity of his injuries. He had to find Legolas.

He struggled to his feet, and blessed the fact that Elven blood was in his veins, for he could feel his injuries beginning to heal slightly.

He had to reach Legolas…

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Legolas's POV

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I struggled with the grip of sleep, as I heard a muffled noise in the background. I could not focus on anything or anyone, and I prayed that my healing ability would kick in soon and free me from the drug's grasp.

The door suddenly burst open, and I did not know who stood there, as I remained trapped in the sleeping draught.

All of us in the Fellowship had been drugged by Éomer. I didn't understand why, as I drifted somewhere between awake and asleep.

A face appeared above me, snickering. I would know those blue eyes and that laugh anywhere.

"What seems to be the problem, elf?" Sarag taunted, as he gazed down at me.

I gritted my teeth. "Where's Éomer," I snarled as best as I could.

I could never be a match for him like this, and I knew it. The drug had affected my strength and my senses. Not to mention that I could not use my right arm.

"My brother lies dead," Sarag snapped.

I was in shock. "Your brother?" I whispered. God, Éomer. Why didn't you tell me?

I felt a cold hand on me, removing the warmth of Aragorn's arms from my waist.

"He didn't tell you?" Sarag purred. "Éomer and I are half-brothers, if you want to get technical, elf." He put his own arms around me, and lifted me off the bed, careful not to hurt my injured arm.

I tried to sound fierce, as I yelled, "Let go of me. I want you to leave me alone!" But I didn't truly yell. I struggled mentally to pull free of the drug's grasp, as Sarag began to walk away, carrying me out of the room. "Aragorn…" I whispered.

Aragorn had seen the whole thing, for he had finally awoken. But he could not move, for his own ability to heal was not working yet, either. His grey eyes were narrowed, as he watched helplessly.

"Where are you taking me?" My head lolled around, as I squeezed my eyes shut.

Sarag smirked. "Someplace quiet, elf. Where we can be alone."

Cold emptiness entered into my veins at his words.

And I could do nothing as he took me away from the one I loved once more.

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Aragorn's POV

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I damned whatever it was that had been done to me, as I watched Sarag carry Legolas out of the room.

None of the others had awoken yet, and I was not certain if Éomer lived or not. Sarag had taunted that Éomer was dead, but Sarag was also known to be a liar.

And I could do nothing. I cursed myself, for I had a pretty good idea of what Sarag was going to do to Legolas.

That damn traitor! And I did not know who had spiked the tea or why.

Sarag might have done it, to give himself a severe advantage over us. But how would he have known where we were and that we would drink the tea?

If Éomer had done it, I did not understand why. Why would Éomer do such a thing, especially after he had rescued Legolas?

It didn't make any sense to me, until I saw a bloody, shaking Éomer appear in the doorway. His eyes instantly saw that Legolas was gone.

"Sarag was here, wasn't he?" Éomer whispered. He was white-faced, as he entered the room.

I whispered, "He took Legolas. The drug stopped him from being able to fight…"

Éomer nodded. "I will save him, Elessar," he vowed. "The drug will wear off in an hour or so," he told me. He turned to leave, when I stopped him.

"Take my sword, Éomer, for I can see that you have no weapons with you," I murmured.

He unsheathed my sword and brandished it. "I will return Legolas to you, or die trying." The noble King of Rohan then left the room.

And all I could do was wait for an hour, as the one I loved was in the hands of a madman.

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Éomer's POV

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I would not fail again, I vowed, as I followed the bloody footsteps that Sarag had left behind. They led to a private room, where I could hear Legolas's voice saying something. The drug had not worn off yet, even with his healing ability.

I quietly opened the door, and my blood and heart turned to ice.

Sarag was on top of Legolas, removing his leggings. Hatred shone in Legolas's green eyes, as he glared up at the one who had done unspeakable acts against him. He could do nothing, once more.

And in that moment, I was glad that I had Aragorn's sword. It seemed fitting somehow, I thought. I used my stronger Elven blood to keep Sarag from hearing me, as I crept up behind him.

He whirled, anyway, and I slid the blade directly through his heart.

"Make sure someone is dead, half-brother, before you break into his castle," I said coldly.

Sarag looked astonished, and whispered, "But how… I saw you die…"

"Never forget, Sarag, that I have more Elf Blood than you. My mother was pure Elf, unlike your half-Elven mother."

His eyes went blank, and I touched where his pulse would be, making certain that he was dead. I did not detect one, as I turned to Legolas.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Legolas whispered.

Emptiness was in his eyes again, I saw. I regretted that severely. "For the same reasons that you did not wish to tell the Fellowship about what had happened to you, Legolas. I also did not want pity, for I came to terms with what Sarag was like centuries ago," I told him.

The servants entered the room, and I looked at them. "Fetch the Healers, and get his body out of my sight," I ordered, gesturing to Sarag. They did as they were told, and took the body out of the room.

I staggered over to the bed, and fixed Legolas's leggings for him. "Are you all right, old friend?"

"He had no chance to do anything this time," Legolas said neutrally. "Time will help."

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Legolas's POV

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I remained silent, as Éomer was taken away by the Healers about an hour later. I felt the numbness of the years that I'd been a slave settling over me again. At least Sarag was well and truly dead, I thought.

I was glad for that. And I owed Éomer a debt of gratitude, once more.

The images were still fresh in my mind.

Sarag over me, removing my belt, as I lay there, helpless. Once more, the elf had not been able to save himself, I bitterly thought.

The drug was starting to clear, finally, as I tested my limbs. I sat up slowly, and looked at my scarred wrists.

I was in pain again, and it was consuming me. Why did I always have to be so weak? Couldn't I save myself just for once, instead of being saved by Éomer?

I looked around the room, and saw two things; a chest of clothes, and a cutting knife. I stood and walked over to the knife. I picked it up with my left hand, before I knelt beside the chest. I opened it and found some clean cloth.

I took the cloth to my bed, as well as the knife. After making sure that no- one was watching, I slid up my sleeve carefully, before I slit another slice deep across the other scar diagonally on my right wrist. I didn't even feel the blade, as I pressed it in. Hell, I couldn't even feel the pain in my stitches right now. The two marks now formed an X. Blood seeped out of the wound, as I bandaged the cut with the cloth one-handed as best as I could.

"Legolas?" I heard Aragorn call.

I cursed in Elvish, for I would not be able to make the other scar look the same right now. Oh well, I couldn't have bandaged it, either, I told myself. I wiped the blade clean, and stuck it inside my pocket. "In here," I replied, as I flung the rest of the cloth on the floor.

Aragorn made his way into the room, looking worried. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said, keeping my voice light and pleasant. On the inside, I was cold and empty, except for the love I felt for Aragorn. It was the only light that I could see right now. "Éomer came in time to save me before Sarag…"

"I meant emotionally," he said, frowning a little.

I forced a smile onto my face, and it seemed to convince. "I'm all right, Aragorn. Just a little tired, is all."

Aragorn looked at me closely, before he nodded slowly. "I'll understand if you want separate rooms for a while, Legolas."

I grew a little irritated. "Aragorn, I don't think I could do *anything* with my right arm bandaged," I pointed out. "I'm am truly all right." I must have convinced him, because he nodded again.

Aragorn let out a sigh of relief. He nearly placed a hand on my shoulder, before looking at me to see if it was ok. I nodded, and was surprised at how good it felt.

I stood, and the two of us walked back towards our room together, but I kept my eyes from meeting Aragorn's, for I had seen what they looked like, in the mirror in the room I had just left.

They looked…lifeless.

The End