Hi all, I'm back!!!!! *People run in fear*
Ok, this isn't violent or sadistic (much) but a more thoughtful chapter, lots of angst and remembrance. I have to admit it was VERY fun to write, to get inside of Legolas' head, a real rush! LOL. Anyway, I hope you like it, and I feel that it is coming together quite nicely, considering I had no idea where to take it. I mean, I wasn't expecting chapter two, let alone chapter three, but I assure you that if you all REVIEW there will be MORE!!!! Anyway…
To Blood Thirsty: I am happy to make call outs to people, especially if they give me inspiration or advice, but note this…. I DO NOT HUG!!!!!!! LOL.
Shiva: you're not a bad reviewer!!
DreamiAngel: wow, what a complement! Thankyou, and I agree with you that it is not Legolas that I want tortured—no, sorry, I lied. I live to torture the characters I love, it is my strange, sick, evil and twisted mind! Can't help it!
CrimsonNight17: Tranquilizer? Gees, I never thought that anything I could write would have that affect on someone!!!
Katie Wintergreen, Rae, Jellibeana and others: Powerful? Dramatic? Gees, I never thought that about my own writing, I have always considered it kinda lame and crappy! But, wow, thank you so much.
Thanks to all those who reviewed and an extra BIG thankyou to all who put this story in their favs, and even more who put me in the fav authors! Me?? *Minka feels loved* LOL, THANKYOU!!!!
Oh, and I noticed that some people said this story reminded them of Braveheart. That's the one with Mel Gibson right? The one about the Scottish fighting against the British? (Was it)? I have only seen that movie once or twice ages ago, and any simulates are pure coincidence. But I suppose I'll tell you all that I don't own Braveheart just to be safe…I preferred The Patriot more, I mean Health Ledger!!! Not half as cute as Orlando Bloom, but still cute!! And very good movie!!!!
Anyway, I'm going to shut up now!!!
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The Blood of the Innocent.
Part three.
I Vamath ned i Fern (The Voices of the Dead)
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Time passes us all by, sometimes a minute seems to last forever and sometimes forever seems to be only a fleeting moment. But no matter it's speed, time takes its toll, and slowly, ever so slowly, the past disappears like mist…but sometimes, just sometimes, time can bring the past flooding back.
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I failed them, not Boromir.
As Legolas slowly came back to his senses one thought held tightly to his mind. I failed them, not Boromir. Why? The prince let his eyes flutter open, seeing only darkness. His entire body ached and throbbed, and as he tried to raise himself from the stone floor the pain caused him to cry out.
"Elbereth beria nin!" his strength once again failed him and he collapsed back to the floor, pain surging through his side and leg. The mysterious wound in his back stung and his heart ached from both the black sorcery and despair.
With a great sigh he again attempted to stand, succeeding only with the aid of the wall. His clothes, while clinging to his wounds held by the fresh seeping blood, were stiff, caked thickly with dried blood. Legolas could feel that his once shinning hair was mattered together and a warm flow of blood trickled from a painful spot on the top of his head.
With tender fingers he felt his skull and even with that small amount of pressure it caused him to swoon and seek the safety and aid of the wall. His left leg was almost completely unmovable and his right side and back hurt with every breath.
It was with terrifying realization that Legolas knew what Saruman had done; the elf could barely move. All of Sarumans' attacks had a deeper and more sinister purpose, to completely incapacitate him, to prevent his escape, to make Legolas weak and defenseless. Thus taking away any chance of defeating the guard Orcs in either flight or battle.
Then all hope is truly lost! Legolas limped over to the door of his cell and peered out. The hall was dark and no light shone in the corridor. As his Elven eyes started to adjust to the lack of light he noted four Orc guards, standing around his door and armed to the teeth. No chance of overpowering them, or taking them by surprise! He leaned back against the wall and drew in a rugged breath his eyes continued to survey the small room. No way out. No way to the stars or sunlight.
His wounds continued to burn and cause his flesh to sting, and as his head started to grow light his eyes fluttering slightly. With a great amount of agony and difficulty, he slowly lowered himself back to the floor in a sitting position, his left leg out-stretched. The cool stone was a welcome relief against his torn and bruised back, and subsided the pain slightly. Legolas then set himself to checking his wounds. His wound in his side was deep and long, revealing the white gleam of bone through the red flesh and his leg was in the same condition. He ripped a bit of his stained tunic and tied it gingerly around his leg, to try to counteract the flow of blood, but it gave little result. His head pounded and he knew, that no matter how much he tried he could not heal that, or even make it hurt less.
His entire body screamed at him as he tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position, and he wearily gave up, and let himself rest. His mind floated back to the day of his friend's death, that day that was consumed by darkness. He saw them, getting out of small boats and resting on the shore. Boats? Where did we get the boats? Question raced through his head, yet no answers would come. Why is it so hazy? I can remember much before that, but why can't I remember that day?
His mind wandered to when he was a child, playing among the trees of Mirkwood. His friends, a young boy and a slightly older girl ran around and concealed themselves from his view. Cynes and Sehael, I could not forget them. But why do I forget my new friends? Their deaths must not be in vain, they must be remembered! As Legolas recalled his past he carefully cleaned some of his lesser wounds, trying not to focus on the pain his touch caused. He was aware of a large gash on his right cheek, which stretched to just below his eye and to the corner of his mouth, and it stung as he felt it for any shards of whatever caused it. The wound was clean and he returned his attention to his back.
This was the thing that worried him most, how did he get it? Legolas gingerly felt around the wound, wincing in pain as he did so. It was a small hole, rough at the opposing ends, creating two long cuts from the middle of the wound. The shape Legolas recognized immediately. An arrow! I was shot with and arrow, and it has been roughly removed. How, and when? How did I get here? Legolas could barely keep hold of one thought as they whizzed through his head, each and every one unanswered. How long have I been here? I failed them, not Boromir! How did they all die, and why wasn't I killed with them, with my companions and friends?
With all his will and might the prince searched his memory for some clue as to why he was here, why he was alive and why he couldn't remember his friends' death. Maybe I was unconscious. Nay, for then I would not know that they were indeed dead. They are dead aren't they?
Slowly, ever so slowly, the activities of that fateful day returned to him, but they were hazy and unclear. He recalled them getting out of their boats and pulling them on to the bank. They had been rowing down the Great River; they had been for days ever since their departure from Lothlórien. When they had reached Sarn Gebir, past the Argonath, the pillars of the Kings and they were safely on shore, they started to talk, and the more Legolas concentrated the more he remembered.
"We cross at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north." Aragorn had told us.
"Oh? Just a simple matter of finding our way across Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks! And then it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands as far as the eye can see!" Gimli replied, not at all happy with the path that Strider had chosen for us to take.
"That is our road, sir dwarf. Perhaps you should take some rest, and recover your strength."
"Recover my...!"
Then I said something, I wanted to stop them from truly quarrelling: "We should leave now."
"No. Orcs patrol the Eastern Shore. We must wait for the cover of darkness." Came Aragorns' reply, as if he had not fathomed my meaning.
"It is not the Eastern Shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it." I knew then. I had known all along that something was wrong, but why did I not say anything beforehand? And why had I been ignored. For we did not leave, we stayed. We set up camp, preparing to stay the night, but we didn't. Why?
Merry! He noticed that Frodo was missing, as was Boromir. I failed them, not Boromir!
At this point the prince could remember no more, the last thought etched deeply in his mind. I failed them, not Boromir. In frustration he beat his right fist against the floor, and straight away regretted it, feeling pain shoot up his arm. He groaned and breathed hard, which aggravated his back further. Why can I not recollect what happened that day? He felt useless, his friends, cast to the world of the dead and he could not even reflect on how they passed.
A sudden voice cut into his hopeless thoughts, the voice of an Orc. Black Speech filled his ears and Legolas felt himself cower back slightly. It was such a horrible and dark form of speech, one created by evil, one the elf would never understand let alone grow to like, to not shrink at its sound. All elves feared it, feared the darkness that spilled forth from the mouths of such foul creatures, to the point of belief that it hurt their ears.
The Orc was answering someone, someone of importance. Legolas could tell by it's tone, not respectful but as if it feared who it talked to. The prince raised himself up and fought against the outcry of his body telling him not to move. But he had to. He limped over to the door and once again looked out of the small square window, closed in by bars. Nothing. He could see nothing, not even the guard Orcs were there. Something is amiss!
He rattled the door, testing the lock and hinges and was quite surprised to find that the door moved quite freely. Using all his strength he pushed against the door and it busted at the lock and swung open with a slight creak.
Legolas hesitated, not knowing what to do. I can not run like this! I can't even fight so what chance do I stand? He asked himself. But I can not stay here! But what if I am seen, or worse, smelt. Orcs smell blood. Nay, I must try, for my sake as well as for Middle-earth and the memory of the fellowship. And with that decided he pulled himself along the wall and out of the door, into the dark corridor.
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A sole figure sat watching, ever watching, for both friend or foe. His companion lay at his side sleeping, twitching slightly every now and again as his dreams haunted his sleep. The figure looked at his friend. He seems to be tiring more and more, with each passing day, hour even. He is weakened by his loss, and I fear for him in what we may find.
Suddenly, with a shout his friend awakened, leaping to his feet and calling out a name. A name that sent shivers of guilt through his own mind, a name never forgotten, a name belonging to a person that they so desperately tried to find. A friend so great, yet one that they had lost, one taken from them and plunged into darkness.
"Legolas!"
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Legolas limped up the hallway slowly, and all the while he felt as if he was not getting anywhere. His body called at him to stop as the pain was unbearable, and something deep inside of him also told him to stop, to turn back. But on he went, he had to go on, he had to escape.
The prince came to a staircase, a long and steep flight of stairs leading up. With a sigh he pulled himself along and placed one foot in front of the other, his left leg screaming in pain as blood flowed steadily down to the floor. His side felt as if it were on fire, burning with an invisible flame, one that ate through to his very soul. As he slowly neared the top of the staircase he knew that this was not such a good idea. The pain was too strong, and the loss of blood was affecting his sight and movement, along with his wounds.
He finally reached the top of the flight of stairs and fought to keep himself from collapsing in a heap on the floor. It was then that he became aware of a moving shadow a little way up the hall. Legolas lifted his eyes to see hell itself.
There stood Saruman and over thirty Orcs, all armed and with snarls on their lips.
"It took you long enough elf!" Saruman replied calmly, while lifting his staff and pointing it at Legolas.
Legolas felt himself get sent backwards. Flying through the air and with a sickening realization he knew that he was falling down the stairs that he had just climbed.
Falling, forever falling, away from the light and into the darkness.
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Memories are but a shadow, a shadow of what we once were, what was once so true. But as time passes us by, the things we remember are altered, changed by the influence of the world, and the people around us. Truth becomes myth and myth becomes legend, new truths emerge; yet not our truth, they are formed, created and false. And as the shadows of memory pass into the darkness that is found in everyone's mind, they are forgotten, never to be reached again, never to be able to be parted from the choking darkness.
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Well there you go, the third chapter! I hope you liked it and please review! I love reviews. The more reviews, the more Legolas sadism in the next chapter! *Laughs evilly* All strange little quotes at the beginning and end are written and created by me! Let me know if you like them!! Umm, that's all I have to do—no wait, translations:
"Elbereth protect me!" his strength once again failed him and he collapsed back to the floor, pain surging through his side and leg.
Legolas' friends names I got from an Elven name generator.
Sehael means soft, great.
Cynes means Oxen Heart. (Thanks to Rei Swiftwood for that link and the help in understanding it!!! ;])
There we go, and REVIEW DAMNIT!!!!!!!!
