Legolas sits idly at the computer in Minka's room. He looks around suspiciously, before finally moving his swivel chair to the computer. He looks at the title of the work displayed on the screen, "The Blood of the Innocent," he says softly, "Part Seven. Gee, it's surprising she was able to write one chapter, let alone seven!" he starts to scroll down the page, reading swiftly. "It's so obviously them…see told ya…I don't need to be…what the?…OUCH!!!!!…I would never be…I have WHAT?" tears start to well up in his eyes, but he keeps reading, "My…Serves him right!…Ouch, should have seem that one coming…well, its about bloody time!…oh god NO!!…NOOOOO!!!!!"

Legolas there outraged. "She can't leave it like that!" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down so the sleeping Minka wouldn't hear.

The author had long decided she needed a break so she had gone to redo her hair in an effort to keep awake, but when Legolas had gone to see what had taken so long he saw her asleep. So the muse simply went back to his seat by the computer and sat there, until curiosity got the better of him.

The Elven prince leaned over the keyboard and studied the keys inattentively. Only taking a quick moment to remember the placing of the major keys, he quickly began to type. Many times he had to stop as his long silky locks blew into his eyes even though there was no wind in the room whatsoever. Soon, he grabbed one of Minka's Chupa Chups – cola flavour and started to suck on it (get your minds out of the gutter!) and all the while he was saying, "this'll fix you, Minka."

Due to some wonderful form of heartfelt kindness, Saruman decided to release the brave, courageous and rather attractive Elven prince, claiming that it was to terrible a thing to keep one so beautiful and in touch with nature in such a dark place full of pain.

So the prince Legolas now walked by a silvery stream. The waters bubbled noisily, filling the air with a tranquil feeling. As the stream weaved its way around trees and over rocks and small pebbles, it created a snaking trail through the beautiful woods. Its waters were cool to the touch, as the young archer soon found out, even though it was only a foot or two deep and was lacerated by the sun through the canopy. The water was clear and transparent, showing the lightly pebbled bottom.

As Legolas wal—

"What the HELL are you doing?" came Minka's raised voice.

"Nothing!" Legolas exclaimed, while standing and leaning against the computer screen twiddling his braid that hung behind his ear. "Nothing…darling…sweet one…honey." He thought quickly.

"Legolas, now I know you are up to something as, if you have failed to notice, you hate me. You do not talk to me like that." She said while trying to push the Elf away from the computer. "Legolas, MOVE"

"No." he shot back.

"Look, Elf boy, do you forget that I hold the power in this so called 'relationship?'"

"I'm the muse here, I can leave you and when I do you will have nothing to write about!" Legolas shouted, angry about being treated this way by a mere mortal. He was a prince and deserved respect.

"Yes, My prince, you may be the muse, but before you leave I can always write a nice little slash story about you and Bill-the-Bloody-Pony, now get the hell out of my way!"

Legolas looked at Minka horrified. "You wouldn't?"

"Try me." Minka dared.

Legolas thought for a moment, "you know, I believe you have a point," he said while slowly backing away; "have your damn computer back."

"Thank-YOU" Minka said in a slight slutly-haha-I-got-my-way tone. She sat down and looked at what Legolas had written. "What the…is this crap?" she yelled.

"Well, I thought it would be a change." Legolas said while taking his seat back and leaning his chin on Minka's shoulder so he could see the computer screen. "Don't you like it?"

"Where the hell did you come up with this crap?" Minka demanded.

"Well, I think it was because of all those fanfiction stories that make me girlish or the romance ones where I write a love letter to some girl I don't know as the author just decided to give me a love interest."

Minka looked as if she was going to be sick. "Anyway, this has taken long enough, I just want to get this chapter up."

"Fine, but why do you always have to hurt me? I am sick of you always hurting me!"

"Deal, Elf Boy."

"Ninib-Fireb!"

"Don't you call me a petty-mortal, Elf. Nor an Udûn! No, even better, go manicure your nails!"

Legolas turned his head slightly on Minka's shoulder and glared daggers into her throat. He was just waiting for his chance…

Sorry about that people, my muse and I have been having 'difficulties' so to speak. Also, I am very sorry for the delay in posting. This happened as I found a rather large plot hole that had to be worked out. SPECIAL THANKS to Silvi Chan who spent hours helping me work this out. We were to the point of drawing time lines and flow charts in order to map out the turn of events—and all over the net. So, this chapter is dedicated to you, for your tireless dedication and wonderfully helpful ideas.

Ok, I'm not going to thank everyone like I normally do for the sole purpose that I would have to put up every single name. Thankyou for being patient (some more than others, or some not at all, *Looks at aurora spirit and Bexi*) and I hope you all like this!

The Blood of the Innocent

Part Seven

I Anor nyr Dad. [The Sun goes Down.]

*********

The sun goes down,

I feel the light betray me.

Linkin Park – Papercut.

******

The sun was slowly sinking, casting the land into darkness, with the trees created long and menacing shadows across the ground. Shapes were distort, melting into one another to create a whirlwind of threatening gloom with the occasional light dancing and reflecting off the tree tops. But through all this, this confusion of the light, three figures stood out, clear and defined.

Two stood side by side, one tall, one short. The tall man held a long gleaming sword within his hand while his companion gripped a sturdy axe. They stood there, feet apart, facing off their foe with their weapons at the ready.

Their foe stood tall yet slightly bent. Long folds of a grey cape flowed down to the ground only to spread out like water hitting a rock. A hood hid his face and a floppy grey hat added to the overshadowing of his features and the clasped cape cloaked the view of his beard. He leaned heavily on an old and bent staff fashioned of wood and carved with intricate designs.

"Aragorn, Gimli." He addressed the two friends; "Here to save Legolas I should hope."

Gimlis' surprise was clearly written across his face and the words tumbled out while all the while dreading the response he would receive. "Who are you? How do you know of us and our captured friend?" He demanded, raising his axe as a warning.

Yet all the while Aragorn said nothing, he just stood there and studied the figure before him. Granted that the knowledge that the capped man possessed was disturbing, nothing about the way he stood there was. After a quick moments thought, Aragorn slowly stepped forward, peering under the hood of the being.

Gimli, fearing for his friend, threw himself forward, his axe raised above his head in a position to bring it down upon the grey man. The cloaked figure lifted his staff into the air and muttered something that Gimli did not understand thus sending his axe flying out of his hand and clattering against a rock at the far side of the clearing. A gasp escaped the dwarfs lips and he stepped back in shock, a look of pure horror stretched across his face.

Meanwhile, Aragorn had steadily approached the robed figure. "Gandalf?" he asked, his voice inquisitive. Gimli looked at the man as if he were insane, driven mad by the ferocity of their quest, and he tried to reach for him to bring him back. Aragorn fast closed the gap between their oppressor and the ranger. Aragorn showed no sign of attacking the stranger.

A slight chuckle escaped the grey clad man, "Well met, my friends, well met indeed." He then removed his hat, revealing the gleam of straight white hair that hung past his shoulders. With a quick movement, he whipped off his cap and both Aragorn and Gimli looked on in wonder. Gandalf the Grey wore long robes of flowing white that matched his beard and hair.

"Gandalf?" Gimli gasped, "Please forgive me. I believed you to be someone else."

"I noticed that, Master Dwarf. How are you both faring?"

Aragorn could not hide the grin that was on his face. He was so relieved to see the old Istari and wasted no time in rushing up to give him a friendly hug. "Gandalf, it is such a relief to see you."

Gandalf simply chucked again and embraced his friend in return. "As with you, Aragorn. You too Gimli. But, greetings must be saved for a later date as I believe that the young prince Legolas is in trouble yet again." He said, trying to keep the mood as light as possible. "You were right in suspecting that he was being held here, my friends, and it pains me to inform you it is so. I also must remind you both of our urgency, for we must hurry. I fear he will soon cut his ties with this world."

The shock and terror were obvious in both Aragorn and Gimli's faces at these last words and neither tried to hide it from the old wizard. "Then we must go now!" Gimli growled, heading towards his fallen axe. "We can not tarry any longer."

"Indeed. But first we need some form of a plan." Aragorn interjected. He too wished to have Legolas safe and alive, but care must be taken in the act of saving the Elven prince.

"What? We have no time for planning! Not when a friend's life is in such danger!" Gimli snapped, hoisting his axe over his shoulder.

"I know, Gimli, but-"

Aragorn was cut off by Gimli, "We must go now, Aragorn, or we may loose him forever!"

"And little good will we do him if we get ourselves captured or wounded on the way as we thought not to form a plan!" Aragorn's tone dripped with a commanding menace, but he soon changed it at his friend's reaction, "Gimli, I too wish for Legolas to be back with us and safe as soon as possible. He is my best friend and has been for many a year, but we must act rationally and calmly if we are to stand any chance of getting him back. Therefore, we will wait only long enough to form a proper plan. Understood?"

Gimli muttered his agreement and plopped himself to the ground and into a cross-legged position. "So, what do you suppose we do?" he sighed.

Gandalf had been silent through the two friends' row, but now he spoke up, "I may have a way we can get in without being seen." He said quietly. Aragorn and Gimli looked at him in anticipation. Slowly the wizard revealed his plan.


******

A loud pop echoed from the darkness of the small cell, but its life was short-lived as no sooner had it sounded, a sharp cry of intense pain followed it, drowning it out from all existence.

For the second time that day, Legolas pushed his shoulder back into place, and for the second time he had to stop himself from blacking out into the land of his dreams. The pain was so strong, almost unbearable as he felt it pulsate throughout his entire body.

With a great sigh, he tried to stand, but found it impossible due to the torn and burnt flesh of his left foot. Even moving the muscles caused him immense pain. His side was paining him more than it ever had, and he wondered if Saruman's blow had indeed broken the exposed bones, but he was not able to bring himself to look. The arrow wound in his back had reopened during this last round of torture and hurt him with every staggered breath he drew in.

Legolas gently ran a shaking hand over his face, feeling the cuts and welts that lacerated it and slowly his hand made its way over to his hair. Once so long and radiant, it was now thickly caked in blood, mattered with sweat, and shorn off above his shoulders. He felt the rough and staggered ends, fighting back tears of self-pity that threatened to escape his glazed eyes.

He hated himself for the yearning to cry, but between the pain, fear and shame he felt, it became harder and harder to hold them back. Soon fresh wet trails snaked down his face, washing away paths of grime as it travelled over bruised skin. So caught up in these battling emotions was he that he didn't hear the cell door open and the Orcs approach.

When the fell beast saw his tears they started to snicker, thus warning Legolas of their presence. The Elf prince quickly wiped his eyes and glared at the Orcs. If he were able to stand he would have fought them, even if it meant his death, for at this moment he would have welcomed it as a gift, as a release. But he was unable to fight, and when one of the Orcs grabbed him by the throat and pulled him off the ground, cutting off his flow of air, all he could do was struggle weakly.

Legolas felt his head spin from lack of oxygen as the Orcs grip tightened on his throat. As his eyelids started to drop he saw another Orc hit the one that held him and yell something in Black Speech. Suddenly the pressure was taken off his neck and he felt himself being thrown over the Orcs shoulder and carried out of the room.


******


Legolas was dropped painfully to the floor of the all-too-familiar torture room. In his weakened state the Orcs had not even bothered to restrain him. But as the thought of escape crossed Legolas' mind, he knew it was hopeless. He lay in a crumpled heap, his arms and hair covering his face, his legs tangled.

He felt as if he had laid there for hours, constantly being watched by the Orcs and occasionally receiving a kick to the stomach or a punch to one of his previous wounds. But all to soon the door sung open and Legolas could hear the swish of long robes on the floor. With a great groan he raised himself up on his arms and glared at the approaching wizard.

Legolas could not even begin to try to hide the smile that spread across his face at the wizards appearance. The neck of Saruman's white robe was covered in his own blood and as Legolas traced the trails of glistering liquid up the Istari's beard the elf's smile widened. Saruman's left eye was swollen shut, the flesh a black-blue colour and blistered. Around the eye were noticeable scratch marks made from the wizard's own nails and blood flowed freely from them, trailing down his face.

But Legolas's triumph was not to last as the wizard sent his staff into the Elf's face, connecting hard and sending him backwards from his laying position. Legolas cried in agony as the hard wood hit already tender places upon his flesh. And he soon found it took a lot of his strength not to pass into the dreams to which he had grown accustomed. He had to stay awake this time, and he had to find the answers to the questions that whirled through his mind.

With a show of strength he didn't know he had, he pulled himself up using the table as a brace and stood mainly on his right foot, being careful not to aggravate his left. Leaning back on the bench, he found his voice, trying to make it a calm as he possibly could. "Tell me what you did to me." He growled, shocked at the power in his tone and the harsh and husky feel of his once sweet voice.

Saruman merely laughed, "Why would I tell you, my prince?" His voice was mocking and showed no fear in Legolas' newfound resistance. He took a step towards the prince and raised his staff to strike him again. "You do not speak to me in such manner." He roared as he let the staff sail at Legolas' head. The wizard awaited the crunch that always came when he hit this captive with the strong wood, but to his surprise something completely different occurred.

Legolas saw the staff swing towards him. Realizing he had nothing to loose, he tried one last trick. Calling upon any Elven strength and agility that he had left in him, he moved his hand to block the blow. With a quick swipe he managed to grab the end of the staff in his right hand and stop it from coming into contact with any part of his body.

Acting on pure instinct and remembrance of his lessons from hand-to-hand combat he received in his youth, he yanked the staff out of the startled Istari's hand and pulled it towards himself. He then flipped it up over his right shoulder, catching the wizard under the chin with the opposing end. Saruman was sent hurdling through the air to land with a thud on his back onto the stone floor. Legolas then spun the staff back over his right arm followed by two spins in front of his body to finally end, holding it out horizontally in a defensive stand.

For a moment the Orcs were too shocked to do anything, but they soon snapped out of their trance and charged at Legolas. The Elf, knowing that there was no chance that he could take them all on, did the best he could in fending them off.

Legolas twirled the staff over his head and swung it to the left giving the first Orc that came at him a skull splitting blow to the side of its head. With a quick spin of the staff, Legolas changed its position to an overhand grip and sent it flying to the right to catch an Orc in the stomach. Legolas had no idea as to where this strength came from, but he had no time to question it as more Orcs came upon him. While still balancing, mainly on his right foot, he lashed to the right with the staff at another Orc, and at the same time sent his left leg painfully into the head of another.

While this strength was new, he felt it start to disperse, and he knew that no matter how hard he tried he could not keep this up for long. Then a thought occurred to him. Could he use the staff's power? With a desperate move he placed both hands on the staff and held it horizontal and sent it into the face of another attacker before turning it vertical.

He concentrated with all his might and focused on the white crystal set into the top of the staff. As more Orcs approached him, as well as the risen Saruman, he brought the staff crashing down onto the stone floor with a cry, "Elbereth, lothron im gar i bellas a balan eitæ!" [Varda, may I have the strength and power to do this!]

Saruman could not believe what he was seeing. This elf, this sad excuse for an elf of the Eldar race, was attempting to use his staff! Just as he was about to let out a loud laugh, a white light came from his staff's crystal and shot out around the room.

The room trembled under the unleashed power, and a fierce wind blew in response. The Orcs were thrown back and Saruman felt himself flying towards a wall. He let out a sharp cry of surprise as he hit, and the last thing he saw was the Elven price sent backwards as well.


******


Gandalf led the way as Aragorn and Gimli snuck along behind him. They had found their way into a secret passage that ran under the circle of Isengard, right into the dungeons themselves.

Gandalf had long discovered this passageway, back in the days when Saruman was good and served the people of Middle-earth, and now was the perfect time to use it. True, Gandalf was relying on his hope that Saruman did not know of his return to the world of the living, and that the passageway was not too strongly guarded. It was the best plan they could devise, short of charging in with swords drawn.

They had been traversing the passages for over an hour before they felt anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly, and for no reason that they could make out, the entire foundations of the building shook under some unknown force. A swift and powerful wind hit them a few seconds later.

"Saruman's staff." Gandalf whispered to the two following him. Aragorn turned deathly pale at the thought of who would be the one at the receiving end of such a blast and Gimli gulped, resolving that he would indeed kill the wizard himself.

Without another word said they hurried on, desperate to aid Legolas, if he still lived.


******


Legolas woke to rough hands pulling him off the floor. He was a bit dazed about what had happened, but soon he remembered. He remembered the strange strength that had flowed through him, followed by the fight with the Orcs and finally the use of Saruman's staff.

With the use of the staff, he had felt a burning sensation within his head, which intensified with the more power that was released. Convulsions shook his body and he was forced to let go of the staff, thrown backwards to collide with a post in the middle of the room. That was when everything had gone blank.

Legolas realized that more Orcs must have been attracted to the nature of the blast and had come in aid of their Master. What they found left them less than impressed. Legolas' quick eyes surveyed the room. Orcs lay everywhere, some obviously dead while others were merely unconscious. Saruman was aided by a rather sly looking man who Legolas had not seen before.

The man hissed a few orders to the Orcs that held Legolas, and the Elf found himself being tied to the pole that he had been thrown against, while other Orcs dragged the bodies of the unconscious ones out of the room. The man aided Saruman in standing and brought him towards the restrained Legolas, who was struggling to break the ropes that bound his hands behind the pole.

"Not so strong now, are you?" the man hissed while sending his fist into Legolas' jaw. The elf winced in pain as his head snapped back with the force of the blow. For a thin man, Saruman's servant was strong. Legolasfelt as fist in his midriff again.

"Enough, Wormtongue!" Saruman yelled, while stepping forward. "The pleasure of this one's death is mine, and mine alone."


******


Aragorn froze, listening hard. Gandalf also strained his ears for what he had thought he had heard, but Gimli just stood in silence, having not heard anything.

The three were still in the passageway, but it had now opened out to a more tunnels running off it into the darkness. Gandalf seemed to remember were it was that he was going so they had followed his lead, not journeying down any of the side passages. They carried no light, but even if they had had one, they would have put it out long ago, as they were now fully aware that they were in the heart of the tower of Isengard. They did not need to draw attention to their presence.

Aragorn's face showed his concentration. Realization crept over his face as he grabbed Gimli and threw him into a side tunnel, with Gandalf hot on their heels. Only seconds later a troop of Orcs marched past, fully armed.

The three comrades let out a collective silent sigh of relief as the trooppassed by into the darkness, but none dared to move for the time being. They waited for a few minutes more before Aragorn crept out from the shadows, looking left and then right. Nothing could be seen in either direction, and he didn't know if this was a good thing or bad. With a quick beckon of his hand, as if he was back with his fellow rangers, he summoned the other two from the tunnel and they once again started down the hall.


***


As more time passed, the comrades' concern for Legolas' safety and lifegrew. Orcs ran this way and that, relaying messages in the Black Speech to those that they met along the way. This constant activity caused the three to stop and hide in the shadows every few minutes, thus making their progress minimal.

Once or twice they experienced a close call, and were almost seen by the watchful eyes of the Orcs. But it would seem that fortune favored them in the fact that while there were lots of Orcs about, they all seemed to be in a rush and did not concern themselves with noises in the dark. So, by creeping along the dark hallways, they were able to stay out of sight and make progress, no matter how slow.

But they soon realized that they had left too much up to luck and fortune. When sneaking down a passageway, they were suddenly faced with a huge problem. Aragorn, who was leading at the time, had picked up on the sound of footsteps coming their way, just as Gandalf had heard the same, but coming from behind. The three looked around wildly, searching for a retreat, but none was to be found. No tunnels branched off this passage, and as both sets of footsteps drew closer, they soon realized that there was nothing that they could do.

"What are we going to do?" Gimli whispered in a gruff voice.

Aragorn and Gandalf exchanged downcast looks, and after a moment's silence, Aragorn spoke: "We make a stand, here and now, and pray that the Elenath will guide us." Gandalf nodded his head in grim agreement, and Gimli felt that, no matter how stupid it sounded, there was no other choice.

"For the memory of the fellowship," he stated softly while pulling his axe to a fighting position, facing back the way they had come.

"For the memory of the fellowship and the dear friend that we could not save." Aragorn repeated, and faced the direction they had not traveled. Anduril gleamed in his hands, its blade craving the approaching battle.

Gandalf stood silent, keeping his thoughts to himself as he stood in the middle, ready to aid whichever needed his help at the time. In his hand he clutched Glamdring, and it too caught the slightest bit of light within the darkened passage.

And there they waited, waited for what was fated to be.

As chance had it, they did not have to wait long before both groups of Orcswere upon them. It happened so quickly, the Orcs coming from Gimli's side turned the corner and did a double take at the three trespassers standing armed in the passage, and just as Gimli went to attack, the Orcs from Aragorn's side appeared.

All three warriors whirled into action before the Orcs could corner them between their forces, and as Aragorn sunk Anduril deep into the belly of an opponent, he quickly tried to calculate the numbers. At least fifteen had come from his way and about nine from Gimli's. That's about eight to one. He thought grimly as he ducked an Orc blade that had aimed for his head. Stabbing upwards he caught it in the heart, and then rising to his full height, he spun and decapitated it. Its head rolled to the floor, while leaving a bloody trail behind it, coming to a stop at the wall's edge.

Gimli was skillfully wielding his axe, slicing through his opponents. A large Orc, about twice the size of him, took a mighty swing at the Dwarf, but Gimli, being the shorter one, had the advantage. He quickly lifted his axe overhead and swung in down onto its foot, causing it such pain that it collapsed backwards when Gimli sent a kick into its left knee.

Gandalf too fought well and conquered his foes with precise and deadly blows of his sword. By the time the three had diminished about half of the Orcs, they were starting to feel the full impact of the fight. Aragorn and Gimli, having traveled so far, were already exhausted and for once Gandalf had to admit to feeling his age. Aragorn had received a well aimed blow to his exposed side, opening it up and making his movements slower than usual. Gimli too had several wounds, but not as serious as Aragorn's. Gandalf had been dealt a blow to his left upper arm, and blood was now soaking his grey cape.

The Orcs could see that the three were wearing down, and they intensified their attack. The thirteen that remained split into three groups and each picked an opponent.

The three comrades were driven back to back by the ferocity of the attack, thus making it hard to swing their weapons and even harder to deflect the blows that were dealt to them.

Gimli, was the first to fall, knocked hard on the head with the hilt of a heavy sword, while the dwarf tried to slip between the legs of one of the Orcs in order to get to the outside of the circle. When Gandalf saw this happen he went to aid his friend. This proved to be his downfall as he was overcome with attackers, dragging him down to the ground.

Aragorn now stood alone, the bodies of his fallen friends being dragged away by Orcs. He was, and felt utterly alone. Not only had he lost Legolas through his bad judgement in battle, he had now lost the last two members of the fellowship to the same darkness and evil.

Another Orc blade sailed towards his head, and he lethargically ducked it just in time. His sword became heavy in his hands as he lifted it again and again, raining blows down on his foes. Orc after Orc fell at his hand, but he seemed not to be getting anywhere. His limbs grew wearier and wearier and his legs started to refuse to move. He stood in one spot, fending off the attackers the best he could, until a fateful blow came in contact with his back.

Thankfully it was with the flat of the sword, but it still bit into his flesh and knocked him forward to his knees. Before he could get up, the Orcs swarmed him. One stood behind him and grabbed Aragorn by his hair, forcing his head up, while another one leered down at him evilly. Aragorn saw an arm draw back and soon enough a burning pain flushed his face, followed by a choking darkness.

******

tbc

"Well, to tell you the truth, that ending surprised even me! I had no plan to make that happen, but, well, my muse works in strange ways."

"Hey, don't blame that on me!" Legolas shouted while chewing on the Chupa Chup stick. They both supported bruises and cuts due to the fights they had been having thought out the writing of this chapter.

"Shut up Elf."

"STOP CALLING ME Elf!"

"Ok," Minka agreed before slyly putting in "Elf."

"AHHHH!" Legolas yelled as he lunged at the author, who kept her ground.

"Oh, Bill," she called sweetly, "Bill my little Pony, where are you?" Legolas froze in mid air and gave the approaching pony a horrified look.

"I'll be good, Elf Boy will be good!" he said quickly while hiding in Minka's closet.

"Two chapters to go people, two chapters to go and please tell me if you want a sequel. Hope you all liked it! ^_~ next chapter will be awhile as I have a rather large battle to write." rubs her hands together with glee "yep, so that is all from me and Elf Boy" yells so he can hear her, "who better not be trying on my clothes!" A muffled groan of protest and disgust is heard from the closet.

"As if I would want to, there is too much black!"

"Please tell me that's not the only reason!"

"Shut up human, and no it is not, I would never wear a girls clothes."

"Good to know Elf boy!"

Minka Greenleaf…loving the sadism.