____
another chapter...
I know Legolas is an elf and therefore not easily overwhelmed by mere men… it was not easy to create a situation where our dear elf would find himself overpowered… I hope I managed to create a plot that sounds credible…
reviews??? please??? let me know what you think – it makes posting so much more fun !!! (writing too, but I am already addicted to that… sigh )
and once more thanks to everybody who took the time to review the last chapters!!!
____
Having finished fixing the bandages again Gimli stepped away and handed the plate of fruits to Legolas. The elf stared blankly at it, his hand trembling as he accepted it. With the pain burning through his body and the slight nausea it caused eating was the last thing he felt like doing. Carefully he placed the plate next to him on the bed.
He knew Gimli was waiting for his explanations.
He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position but found it impossible. Finally he sighed and turned his eyes to his patiently waiting friend.
Gimli listened without a word only his face becoming darker.
@ last night @
As was his custom ever since the war was over and they stayed in Minas Tirith Legolas wandered the streets at dusk to greet the first blinking of the stars outside of the cold walls of the city. The guards at the great door knew him well by know and he returned their greeting as he passed them. It was a short walk to the first outskirt of trees and he wandered there, entering the woods slowly. He felt relieved from the pressure the city had on him as it was so different to the way he was used to live. The great halls of his fathers palace were carved inside a cave but it was wide with many windows broken through the stone so the smell and sight of the outside world was not cut off. In the city of men all he could see were stone and men and all he could smell was stone and men. And the sea. He could hear the cry of gulls and it caused a burning longing in his heart to see it again.
He yearned for the smell and sounds of nature and his walks in the woods so close to the white city were something he cherished. He let his fingers trail over the bark of trees as he passed them, his head tilted to catch the first glimpse of Erändil when it showed.
Bethrol watched the elf, hate burning in his eyes. He had spent the last two days gaining information on Legolas and it had taken not long to find out about his habit to wander alone outside of town at the fall of night.
So he had hidden himself here with three of his closest companions to await the hated elf and get his revenge.
Legolas had not gone far as a warning tingling through his spine made him stop, his senses sharpening. He listened intently the dark feeling of a threat intensifying. While staying in the White City he had ceased to wear his usual weapons and only carried a long knife on his belt. He was with friends after all. But the warrior inside of him refused to go completely unprotected and he was glad for it now as his fingers curled around the hilt of his weapon. Suddenly the trees around him seemed to cry out a warning and he whirled, knife in hand to face whoever had stepped behind him.
He could make out the figure of a man standing only feet away from him, a hood drawn over his head hiding his features. His posture was not threatening and for a moment Legolas hesitated, unsure of his intentions. His refusal to attack without question proved to be his undoing as he could hear a rustling noise behind him as well as on his sides, realizing at once he was surrounded. They must have been waiting for him for he would have heard them had they followed him. He had walked into a trap and slowly turning in a circle he realized that it had closed tightly. Four man had surrounded him, two of them carrying bows with arrows notched, aiming at him.
He cursed himself for a moment. He had felt too secure here, had let his guard down.
But none to go down without a fight he gripped his knife harder, letting his eyes wander over his foes.
'Let your knife fall!' a voice called out to him. He had never heard it before. They all had hoods drawn, their faces hidden in the dark. He lowered his hand as if to follow the order then, almost faster then the eye could follow he turned to his left and attacked the man standing there.
But his reaction as well as his speed had been expected and the man managed to evade his blade if only barely. He stumbled and fell but got a grip on the elf's cloak while doing so. It hindered Legolas' escape as he found himself held back as the other three already moved after him. No arrow had been released as they did not wish to kill him. Turning he would have freed himself with one swift stroke of his knife had he not found himself facing all four of his opponents now. Being held by the tight grip on his cloak he found himself hindered to move with his usual agility as he defended himself against three swords. Bethrol was the one who had fallen and he stayed down keeping his grip upon the silky but strong material of the cloak until he could feel a strong pull as Legolas tried to break free. Then he let go suddenly. Legolas stumbled at the sudden disappearance of the grip he had fought and stumbled only for the slightest moment. But it was all that was needed as Bethrol had expected this and was on his feet in a moment, slamming the hilt of his sword into Legolas' face.
The intense pain was blinding him for a moment and he stumbled, fighting of darkness that threatened to overwhelm him. He moved in his defense without really seeing relaying on instinct only. But the strokes done with is knife were slower and imprecise, easily to dodge for his opponents. Before he was able to refocus his eyes he found himself attacked from behind and brought down. He managed to shift and land on his back but a weight settled on his thighs pinning him down. He fought with all he had but soon his right arms got caught in a hard grip and forced over his head. Then his left arm was immobilized and he could do nothing to break their hold on him. Bucking under them and trying to dislodge the weight resting on his limps did not achieve anything but further tightening of the grip on his right arm. Finally the man holding him found a special point in his forearm and pressed it merciless. Legolas could hardly suppress a gasp of pain and against his will his fingers loosened their hold on his knife. It was wrenched from his hand and flung away.
Acknowledging the uselessness of his struggles Legolas let himself go limp in the grasp of the three man intending to save his strength for a better moment.
The man on his thighs shifted leaning over the captive. Legolas could see naught of his face but felt eyes boring into him.
'Get him up.' A voice hissed.
The weight left his body and he was forced to his feet. As soon as he was upright he tried to break free again. Using his free legs he kicked out at the man at his right side managing to sweep his leg away under him. He lost his balance and let go of the elf's arm. Using his advantage Legolas tried to break free from the other man as well. Had there not been Bethrol he might have succeeded.
The man reacted instantly and was at Legolas side in a moment. Using the hilt of his sword once more he slammed it into Legolas' unprotected abdomen.
Pain exploded and with a gasp Legolas sank to his knees, trying to curl up to lessen his agony. He heard cruel laughter from above through the thick fog that clouded his head as pain controlled all his senses. But in the back of his mind a connection was made between the voice and a face.
He had no breath left to fight as he was forced to his feet once more and dragged away, deeper into the woods. They reached a small clearing soon and stopped. The darkness was almost perfect only lightened by a torch the men had lit.
The pain in his abdomen had cooled down to a dull ache and Legolas was able to think clearly again despite the pounding of his head. Casting a quick glance around his eyes came to rest on the man who walked up to him and stood before him. The grasp on his arms lessened as they once more underestimated him and still thought him incapacitated.
One last desperate attempt made Legolas trying to break free once more. He succeeded and delivered a swift kick to the man in front of him and tried to run. But the injury to his head proved to be bad enough to slow him down considerably and he did not get further but a few steps away. Then he was seized once more and brought down face first to the ground.
Bethrol had not expected the elf to strike out once more. The kick had not brought him down but inflicted enough pain to throw him into a fit of rage. Upon seeing the elf held down he did not draw his sword but hissed .
'Hold him down. I will teach him some respect.'
Undoing the belt around his waist he curled on end of it around his right palm and stepped closer, towering over the elf. For a moment he leaned over and undid the strap that fastened the cloak around Legolas shoulders. After ripping it away and carelessly throwing it into the dark the man raised his arm. Unleashing his pent up rage upon his defenseless victim he brought the belt down on the unprotected back with all his strength.
The pain was unexpected and Legolas gasped as it suddenly flared up. Another strike hit him and another as the man lost any restraint and control. The belt was made of leather but decorated with ornaments made of silver. It was a cruel weapon used like this.
The fourth man stood apart watching with growing horror at the scene unfolding. He had joined Bethrol to help him take his revenge on the elf for he had witnessed the humiliation the man he considered a friend had suffered. He had not expected a fair fight to go on but nothing like this. To beat someone up to teach him a lesson or to avenge an insult was one thing. But from the look of it Bethrol had lost his mind as he let blow after blow rain down on his captive.
Pain and more pain, multiplying with each new stroke landing on his back forcing gasps of pain from him. His skin had broken and blood ran freely now. The next blow evoked a harsh cry of pain that could not be held back any longer. Reality began to fade.
The young man holding the torch silently began to beg for Bethrol to stop. The fair voice he had heard once raised to a sweet song during a feast was hardly recognizable now as it cried out the elf's agony. No one deserved anything like this.
As they felt their captive go limp the men holding him down let go of him. In the dim light the his back showed to be a mass of torn flesh and cloth. Even as they rose and stepped away Bethrol did not stop his assault.
'He had enough. You will kill him if you continue.'
He did not seem to hear them and after a few long moments of hesitation one of them stepped closer and caught his arm as it came down once more.
Taking a deep breath Bethrol stared at his captive arm for a moment before turning burning eyes to the man that held him.
'Why would that concern you?' he hissed.
'I do not wish to be involved in murdering the elf. You had your revenge.'
With that he let go and strode away, the second man following him quietly. Turning his attention back to the unmoving body on the ground Bethrol noticed the carrier of the torch kneeling at the elf's side, his fingers searching for a pulse on his neck.
Looking up he met Bethrol's gaze.
'Does he still live?' the tone as well as the fingers curling around the hilt of his sword told the young man that Bethrol did not plan to let the elf live through this.
The sudden compulsion he felt about letting him kill the elf as well as fear of the consequences made him give his answer. The elf was one of the fellowship after all, a hero as well as a friend to the king. His death would cause quite a stir and the wrath of the king was nothing he wished upon his head. It had already gone way too far. Leaving Gondor seemed like a good idea right now.
'No. is heart does not beat anymore.'
'A pity.' The mocking voice made him feel sick as he cast one last glace at their victim, meeting his pain dulled eyes for one brief moment. Then he rose to follow Bethrol who had turned and strode away into the dark.
At the sound of their retreating footsteps Legolas finally let go on his tentative hold to consciousnesses and slipped into darkness free of pain.
Hours later he woke to find his healing abilities had started to do their work as he was able to get to his feet. Wrapping himself in his cloak to hide his injuries he slowly and painfully made his way back to the gates. How many times he needed to stop and sit down to fight off a wave of nausea and weakness he could not say. How he managed to pass the guards without drawing attention and how he made his way back to the house he could hardly remember.
another chapter...
I know Legolas is an elf and therefore not easily overwhelmed by mere men… it was not easy to create a situation where our dear elf would find himself overpowered… I hope I managed to create a plot that sounds credible…
reviews??? please??? let me know what you think – it makes posting so much more fun !!! (writing too, but I am already addicted to that… sigh )
and once more thanks to everybody who took the time to review the last chapters!!!
____
Having finished fixing the bandages again Gimli stepped away and handed the plate of fruits to Legolas. The elf stared blankly at it, his hand trembling as he accepted it. With the pain burning through his body and the slight nausea it caused eating was the last thing he felt like doing. Carefully he placed the plate next to him on the bed.
He knew Gimli was waiting for his explanations.
He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position but found it impossible. Finally he sighed and turned his eyes to his patiently waiting friend.
Gimli listened without a word only his face becoming darker.
@ last night @
As was his custom ever since the war was over and they stayed in Minas Tirith Legolas wandered the streets at dusk to greet the first blinking of the stars outside of the cold walls of the city. The guards at the great door knew him well by know and he returned their greeting as he passed them. It was a short walk to the first outskirt of trees and he wandered there, entering the woods slowly. He felt relieved from the pressure the city had on him as it was so different to the way he was used to live. The great halls of his fathers palace were carved inside a cave but it was wide with many windows broken through the stone so the smell and sight of the outside world was not cut off. In the city of men all he could see were stone and men and all he could smell was stone and men. And the sea. He could hear the cry of gulls and it caused a burning longing in his heart to see it again.
He yearned for the smell and sounds of nature and his walks in the woods so close to the white city were something he cherished. He let his fingers trail over the bark of trees as he passed them, his head tilted to catch the first glimpse of Erändil when it showed.
Bethrol watched the elf, hate burning in his eyes. He had spent the last two days gaining information on Legolas and it had taken not long to find out about his habit to wander alone outside of town at the fall of night.
So he had hidden himself here with three of his closest companions to await the hated elf and get his revenge.
Legolas had not gone far as a warning tingling through his spine made him stop, his senses sharpening. He listened intently the dark feeling of a threat intensifying. While staying in the White City he had ceased to wear his usual weapons and only carried a long knife on his belt. He was with friends after all. But the warrior inside of him refused to go completely unprotected and he was glad for it now as his fingers curled around the hilt of his weapon. Suddenly the trees around him seemed to cry out a warning and he whirled, knife in hand to face whoever had stepped behind him.
He could make out the figure of a man standing only feet away from him, a hood drawn over his head hiding his features. His posture was not threatening and for a moment Legolas hesitated, unsure of his intentions. His refusal to attack without question proved to be his undoing as he could hear a rustling noise behind him as well as on his sides, realizing at once he was surrounded. They must have been waiting for him for he would have heard them had they followed him. He had walked into a trap and slowly turning in a circle he realized that it had closed tightly. Four man had surrounded him, two of them carrying bows with arrows notched, aiming at him.
He cursed himself for a moment. He had felt too secure here, had let his guard down.
But none to go down without a fight he gripped his knife harder, letting his eyes wander over his foes.
'Let your knife fall!' a voice called out to him. He had never heard it before. They all had hoods drawn, their faces hidden in the dark. He lowered his hand as if to follow the order then, almost faster then the eye could follow he turned to his left and attacked the man standing there.
But his reaction as well as his speed had been expected and the man managed to evade his blade if only barely. He stumbled and fell but got a grip on the elf's cloak while doing so. It hindered Legolas' escape as he found himself held back as the other three already moved after him. No arrow had been released as they did not wish to kill him. Turning he would have freed himself with one swift stroke of his knife had he not found himself facing all four of his opponents now. Being held by the tight grip on his cloak he found himself hindered to move with his usual agility as he defended himself against three swords. Bethrol was the one who had fallen and he stayed down keeping his grip upon the silky but strong material of the cloak until he could feel a strong pull as Legolas tried to break free. Then he let go suddenly. Legolas stumbled at the sudden disappearance of the grip he had fought and stumbled only for the slightest moment. But it was all that was needed as Bethrol had expected this and was on his feet in a moment, slamming the hilt of his sword into Legolas' face.
The intense pain was blinding him for a moment and he stumbled, fighting of darkness that threatened to overwhelm him. He moved in his defense without really seeing relaying on instinct only. But the strokes done with is knife were slower and imprecise, easily to dodge for his opponents. Before he was able to refocus his eyes he found himself attacked from behind and brought down. He managed to shift and land on his back but a weight settled on his thighs pinning him down. He fought with all he had but soon his right arms got caught in a hard grip and forced over his head. Then his left arm was immobilized and he could do nothing to break their hold on him. Bucking under them and trying to dislodge the weight resting on his limps did not achieve anything but further tightening of the grip on his right arm. Finally the man holding him found a special point in his forearm and pressed it merciless. Legolas could hardly suppress a gasp of pain and against his will his fingers loosened their hold on his knife. It was wrenched from his hand and flung away.
Acknowledging the uselessness of his struggles Legolas let himself go limp in the grasp of the three man intending to save his strength for a better moment.
The man on his thighs shifted leaning over the captive. Legolas could see naught of his face but felt eyes boring into him.
'Get him up.' A voice hissed.
The weight left his body and he was forced to his feet. As soon as he was upright he tried to break free again. Using his free legs he kicked out at the man at his right side managing to sweep his leg away under him. He lost his balance and let go of the elf's arm. Using his advantage Legolas tried to break free from the other man as well. Had there not been Bethrol he might have succeeded.
The man reacted instantly and was at Legolas side in a moment. Using the hilt of his sword once more he slammed it into Legolas' unprotected abdomen.
Pain exploded and with a gasp Legolas sank to his knees, trying to curl up to lessen his agony. He heard cruel laughter from above through the thick fog that clouded his head as pain controlled all his senses. But in the back of his mind a connection was made between the voice and a face.
He had no breath left to fight as he was forced to his feet once more and dragged away, deeper into the woods. They reached a small clearing soon and stopped. The darkness was almost perfect only lightened by a torch the men had lit.
The pain in his abdomen had cooled down to a dull ache and Legolas was able to think clearly again despite the pounding of his head. Casting a quick glance around his eyes came to rest on the man who walked up to him and stood before him. The grasp on his arms lessened as they once more underestimated him and still thought him incapacitated.
One last desperate attempt made Legolas trying to break free once more. He succeeded and delivered a swift kick to the man in front of him and tried to run. But the injury to his head proved to be bad enough to slow him down considerably and he did not get further but a few steps away. Then he was seized once more and brought down face first to the ground.
Bethrol had not expected the elf to strike out once more. The kick had not brought him down but inflicted enough pain to throw him into a fit of rage. Upon seeing the elf held down he did not draw his sword but hissed .
'Hold him down. I will teach him some respect.'
Undoing the belt around his waist he curled on end of it around his right palm and stepped closer, towering over the elf. For a moment he leaned over and undid the strap that fastened the cloak around Legolas shoulders. After ripping it away and carelessly throwing it into the dark the man raised his arm. Unleashing his pent up rage upon his defenseless victim he brought the belt down on the unprotected back with all his strength.
The pain was unexpected and Legolas gasped as it suddenly flared up. Another strike hit him and another as the man lost any restraint and control. The belt was made of leather but decorated with ornaments made of silver. It was a cruel weapon used like this.
The fourth man stood apart watching with growing horror at the scene unfolding. He had joined Bethrol to help him take his revenge on the elf for he had witnessed the humiliation the man he considered a friend had suffered. He had not expected a fair fight to go on but nothing like this. To beat someone up to teach him a lesson or to avenge an insult was one thing. But from the look of it Bethrol had lost his mind as he let blow after blow rain down on his captive.
Pain and more pain, multiplying with each new stroke landing on his back forcing gasps of pain from him. His skin had broken and blood ran freely now. The next blow evoked a harsh cry of pain that could not be held back any longer. Reality began to fade.
The young man holding the torch silently began to beg for Bethrol to stop. The fair voice he had heard once raised to a sweet song during a feast was hardly recognizable now as it cried out the elf's agony. No one deserved anything like this.
As they felt their captive go limp the men holding him down let go of him. In the dim light the his back showed to be a mass of torn flesh and cloth. Even as they rose and stepped away Bethrol did not stop his assault.
'He had enough. You will kill him if you continue.'
He did not seem to hear them and after a few long moments of hesitation one of them stepped closer and caught his arm as it came down once more.
Taking a deep breath Bethrol stared at his captive arm for a moment before turning burning eyes to the man that held him.
'Why would that concern you?' he hissed.
'I do not wish to be involved in murdering the elf. You had your revenge.'
With that he let go and strode away, the second man following him quietly. Turning his attention back to the unmoving body on the ground Bethrol noticed the carrier of the torch kneeling at the elf's side, his fingers searching for a pulse on his neck.
Looking up he met Bethrol's gaze.
'Does he still live?' the tone as well as the fingers curling around the hilt of his sword told the young man that Bethrol did not plan to let the elf live through this.
The sudden compulsion he felt about letting him kill the elf as well as fear of the consequences made him give his answer. The elf was one of the fellowship after all, a hero as well as a friend to the king. His death would cause quite a stir and the wrath of the king was nothing he wished upon his head. It had already gone way too far. Leaving Gondor seemed like a good idea right now.
'No. is heart does not beat anymore.'
'A pity.' The mocking voice made him feel sick as he cast one last glace at their victim, meeting his pain dulled eyes for one brief moment. Then he rose to follow Bethrol who had turned and strode away into the dark.
At the sound of their retreating footsteps Legolas finally let go on his tentative hold to consciousnesses and slipped into darkness free of pain.
Hours later he woke to find his healing abilities had started to do their work as he was able to get to his feet. Wrapping himself in his cloak to hide his injuries he slowly and painfully made his way back to the gates. How many times he needed to stop and sit down to fight off a wave of nausea and weakness he could not say. How he managed to pass the guards without drawing attention and how he made his way back to the house he could hardly remember.