Sarah here! Sorry we're a little late, but I'm *so* glad you're liking it! I'm having a great time reading your feedback. : )
No, of course we won't make you suffer! We happen to actually be fairly nice people, whatever you may think from our cliffies. ; ) The Jedi Quest spoiler had to do with the scene where Obi-Wan and Anakin are tracking Wren on Ragoon-6.
On the subject of the bow: Oops! I really didn't ever think about it one way or the other, but I suppose if I had, I might very well have altered it for the excellent reasons you listed. Good eye! However, I should warn you, this whole story is likely to cause Tolkien to roll over in his grave *frequently*: i.e. there will be many other such instances of inattention to detail. *sigh* We can't all be brilliant authors, unfortunately. ; )
Chloe: 1. Amazing! I thought nothing could put you off wolves… 2. Shall we put a little triangular green symbol on all Legolas' arrows now? 3. I *can't* write fight scenes. 4. As it happens, I *do* have a sister like the one you mentioned, but I'm afraid I'll have to say that she's actually something of a pill, especially when she posts feedback. And no, as it happens, I don't trust her. ; )
Who said we were going to stop at cooking them? : )
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Death or Despair
By Sarah and Hannah
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
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Chapter 3
The Touch of Ghosts
There was no warning, neither of the tired travelers even heard them coming. Suddenly Aragorn was aware of a cold edge of steel across the side of his face. He jerked awake, startled, his eyes darting around the camp.
He immediately saw the fire pit, but in the morning light there were not even embers smoldering in the scorched piece of ground. He could see Legolas across from him, obviously only just waking as well: he too had a blade pressed against his throat, held by a large human with dark hair and numerous scars across his face and neck.
As Aragorn's gaze roved on, he saw many such cruel men surrounding them, digging through the travelers' things in search valuables and prodding at the wolf carcasses. There were about ten all together, well armed, and all looked highly dangerous, covered in the scars of vicious battles and hardened by more than wind and sun. And every one of them with cold eyes now resting on the two captives. Though Aragorn did not know all there was to be known about the world outside Rivendell, he knew enough to recognize the dreaded Corsairs of Umbar. The pirates and slave traders had made a name for themselves that was much feared in Middle Earth.
The ranger tried to struggle away, but all he received was a cuff across his injured shoulder. Legolas flinched slightly as his friend collapsed to the side and Aragorn felt pain rip up his arm, but he tried hard to ignore it. As he regathered himself and sat up slowly once again, he could see a vivid fear in his friend's eyes. The elf looked unnaturally terrified and this concerned Aragorn more deeply even than his own predicament.
His attention was quickly deterred, though, as he heard a biting laugh from the one holding the blade to his head.
"You are indeed foolish travelers," the man smirked, "letting your fire smoke like that, you may as well have walked to us with open arms."
"Quiet Oeruil!" A voice cut in sharply. The speaker was much like the others in some ways, but he was taller and stronger looking, and his eyes held a specially cruel gleam that made Aragorn shudder inwardly. "Bind them." He ordered in a commanding, but gruff tone. One of the men, the one called Oeruil, pulled out a length of rough cord and started to wrap it tightly around Aragorn's wrists. The ranger began to thrash around violently — he could not go without a struggle — but the two were still weary from their battle with the wolves and in no condition to fight off a crew of Corsairs. The men closed in to hold him down and were met with little difficulty, but in that moment of distraction, Legolas moved.
The elf sprung to his feet, twisted away from the man holding him, and, reaching down to grab up his twin daggers still laying discarded nearby, quickly whirled in time to drive one into the man behind him. The man stumbled back, letting out a strangled cry. Legolas leapt swiftly to the side, dodging the lunge of one of the men, and thrusting the other dagger into one of the men holding Aragorn. Even as he did he felt the man's dagger slice across his cheek, delving deeply into his fair skin like a line of flame. Legolas grimaced and pulled back, wrenching his second dagger from the man's body. "Get him down!" The captain barked angrily.
All the men, with the exception of the captain and Oeruil, who was still holding Aragorn, moved in on Legolas slowly. The elf stood at the ready, prepared to break through even as they blocked him in their tight circle.
One of the men dodged forward and Legolas slashed at him, clipping the man's arm deeply. Another threw a blow towards his head, but Legolas easily dodged, and the same man then threw a kick into his side. A scream of fiery hot pain shot up Legolas' side as the wound that had been healing over night was again opened. Seeing the reaction, the man kicked him in the side again. Legolas cried out and sank to his knees. A man from the other side took the elven weapon away as the first threw another vicious kick into the elf's wounded side. Legolas clenched his eyes shut and tried not to cry out again, but the pain was tearing him apart — he felt another kick in his side and lost the control: letting out a moan of pain, he closed his fists tightly and curled inwards on the ground.
"Enough." The captain commanded. All the men but one broke off, this one wrenching Legolas' wrists around and binding them tightly behind his back. "They'll be worthless enough without damaging them further." The captain's calculating eyes slid from Legolas to Aragorn. "Though I think we could get a decent price for them. Take them to the Lhimlug. Now!" The men moved quickly to obey their leader's order.
Oeruil pulled the Dúnadan roughly to his feet and it took two to drag Legolas up. Aragorn's heart beat rapidly as he threw a concerned look at his friend. Legolas' face had turned momentarily gray and Aragorn saw pain etched deeply in the elf's eyes, but elves healed quickly and Legolas was strong. There was clearly something else troubling the prince, but Aragorn could not discern what.
The two were dragged from their campsite, and further also, Aragorn knew, from Rivendell. He clenched his fists behind him, feeling frustration ripple through him at being caught entirely unprepared and unalert, and for drawing the Corsairs right to them by letting their fire smoke. He knew that their battle with the wolves had drained them and taken a terrible toll on their strength, but even so he deeply wished he had been more careful.
After a time, Aragorn knew not how long, they reached the destination for which he had been certain they were bound: the river Anduin. The Corsairs had docked their ship right against the bank, and the vessel loomed high above them, billowing black sails soaking in the scorching sun.
"Welcome to the Lhimlug, slave," Oeruil sneered very close to Aragorn's ear.
The two captives were forced up the gang plank to the vessel's top deck, where, without hesitation, the Corsairs halted both elf and human in front of the hatch that led to the bottom hold and shoved them in. The drop was about four and a half feet; a shallow hold, but a painful landing. Aragorn looked up at the ceiling, realizing in dismay that he could not completely stand.
Legolas landed hard on his side and gasped, rolling off his wound and staring up at the underside of the ship's deck. The belly of the ship was pitch black; Aragorn attempted to get his bearings, but nothing was clear and even the faintest outlines were difficult to distinguish. Fumbling with his bound hands he tried to locate Legolas, who, with his hands tied behind him, could not get upright. He found his friend laying limply on the cold planks, breathing raggedly.
"Legolas," Aragorn whispered quietly, "are you all right?" Legolas didn't answer for a long moment, then he nodded, though Aragorn could not see.
"I am well." Contrary to his statement, his voice was laced with pain and Aragorn quickly tried to help his friend sit, but with his hands bound, though in front, he couldn't seem to manage it.
"Here," a voice broke through the darkness, accompanied by a sharp clank of chains, "let me help you." Aragorn felt someone grasped his arm gently and steady him, then another pair of hands helped Legolas sit against the wall of the hold. "Sit back and shut your eyes for a moment," the voice advised, "it helps you grow accustomed to the darkness." Aragorn nodded and shut his eyes. He felt the total darkness for a moment, then he opened his eyes once again: the images seemed to clear and he could make out Legolas, as well as two others, in the dark hold.
"Thank you," Legolas murmured quietly.
"It is well, friend," the man answered. "I am Kelegalen of Rohan."
"A pleasure to meet you," Aragorn returned. "I am called Strider, Ranger of the North."
"And I am Legolas of Mirkwood." Aragorn heard Legolas' voice speak nearby him; he was relieved to hear the pain in his friend's voice ebbing away.
There was a pause, as of surprise, at the sound of Legolas' fair voice, heard clearly by all for the first time. "And might you be an elf, Master Legolas?" The man of Rohan queried softly.
Legolas assented and there was a feeling almost of awed respect emanating from those near them, in spite of the fact that they were all caged in the same prison. "Well, it is good to meet you both." Kelegalen replied softly. "This is Stavhold, also from Rohan." He referred to the man by his side who had steadied Aragorn.
"Greetings." Stavhold nodded and Aragorn was surprised that he could make out the movement.
"Where exactly are we?" Aragorn questioned.
"We are on the ship Lhimlug, under Captain Seregoer of Umbar." Kelegalen answered, still in the same quiet voice. "They have been collecting slaves all up the Anduin, as I understand."
"How many slaves are here?" Aragorn asked, distinguishing the shapes of many captives in the hold.
"Over seventy." Stavhold responded calmly, but Aragorn was amazed at the quantity.
"Where are they taking us?" Legolas questioned, struggling to pull away from the wall. Aragorn reached out a hand in the darkness to steady him.
"I know not." Stavhold shook his head. "This place is filled with evil enough without foreseeing our future doom. Twelve have died already and I fear that same fate for many of the others here. The Corsairs are a cruel band."
"They have no mercy," Legolas said, a quiet despair underlying his tone. "They have no pity." Aragorn turned to look at Legolas, who was becoming clearer in the darkness all the time, and he could see that the elf was looking at no one...and nothing.
Before another word could be spoken there was a clank and groan as the hatch was unbolted and opened. A Corsair descended the steps that Aragorn and Legolas had been thrown down, a lantern in hand, and as it cast it's light outward, Aragorn could clearly see for the first time the interior of the hold, and the faces Kelegalen and Stavhold. Indeed, there were many other slaves farther down, all chained to the walls. Some were huddled together — others tried to isolate themselves in their own quiet misery.
The Corsair was followed by two others who harshly jerked the bonds from Aragorn's hands and clamped on iron chains instead, binding him to wall like the others, and then they went to do the same to Legolas. One grabbed him harshly on the arm—
The elf reacted suddenly to the treatment. Pushing away violently, he tried to loose himself from the man's grasp, raw fear plain in his gray-blue eyes.
His terror-filled gaze locked on Aragorn, begging him to help, but the ranger was confused. Did Legolas truly think he could escape? The elf bit back a cry as the other Corsair grabbed his other arm and pressed him firmly against floor, pinning him hard.
It had happened before in nightmares, but nightmares had never been this vivid. The hands, calloused from years of pulling at the rigging, clutching at him and holding him helpless. The smell of salt, tar, wood and sweat surrounding him and showing him the clear picture of a man, bearded and squinting. It was the same all over again…
"Legolas!" Aragorn tried to get the elf's attention, but Legolas was too wrapped up in some horrific memory to hear, struggling and twisting under the Corsair's grasp. One struck him viciously on one cheek, jerking the elf's head hard to the side, and Legolas seemed to snap entirely; twisting and writhing, making himself almost impossible to grasp, he lashed out hard and tried yet to shrink away at the same time. However, his panic had momentarily overridden his usually superior tactics and finally, slamming him hard against the bulkhead, the Corsairs clasped the bonds around his wrists and left him firmly anchored to the wall.
"This one will be dead by dawn," the first sneered as the three Corsairs turned to leave, the lantern light disappearing and leaving the hold once again in utter darkness as the hatch slammed to.
Legolas was still struggling, but now it was with the chains holding him helpless instead of the men. Jerking his head away, as if trying to avoid seeing something, or dodge a blow, he shut his eyes and clenched his fists tightly.
"Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed; reaching out one chained hand he grasped his friend's arm. The sudden touch sent Legolas into a fresh panic, the events of long ago were now vivid in his mind, and he would not, and could not release them. "Legolas, it is I," Aragorn whispered urgently in the elven tongue. "Please do not fear me." He gave a reassuring squeeze to the elf's arm and something at last seemed to register in Legolas' frightened eyes. He calmed slightly and his breath gradually slowed to a normal level.
"Aragorn…" Legolas whispered in confusion.
"I am here, Legolas." Aragorn moved as close as he could get to his friend, hoping the elf could make him out in the darkness. "I am right here." He reached out and grasped Legolas' hand and felt it shaking beneath his touch. "Are you all right?" Aragorn asked in a quiet tone, when Legolas had finally ceased to shiver.
"I am well." Legolas nodded slightly.
"Do you wish to speak of your fear?" Aragorn prodded gently.
Legolas shook his head, replying simply, "I have no good memory of the Corsairs." There was a pause, silence, except for the creaking of the ship's timbers, covering them all. "I am sorry my friend," the elf apologized suddenly, sweat still cooling on his forehead. "I am faced with disturbing memories in my past and at times they control my emotions. It should not be so."
Aragorn nodded, he could well understand this. He was only sorry his friend had to be pulled through such shadows once again.
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The closed quarters of the hold were miserable accommodations for the slaves. There was no open air and the stale smell of the lower deck was beginning to make Aragorn ill. He could see that Legolas was deathly pale and most of the time the elf sat with his head against his knees, breathing slowly and speaking to no one.
Aragorn tried to offer his friend comfort and Legolas was grateful, but mostly the prince preferred to be left alone. It was the only peace Aragorn could grant.
For only a half of an hour every day, slaves in groups of six were taken up to the deck and chained to the main mast. During this period alone were they allowed a breath of fresh air and a departure from the cruel conditions down below.
It was on the third day of their journey that the ship docked at the side of the river for the first time since their capture, and Legolas and Aragorn, as well as four others, were chained firmly to the mast.
Aragorn watched in relief as his friend soaked in the cool air and the energy from the last rays of the sun, some of the color slowly returning to the elf's pale cheeks. The ranger was grateful for the air as well and took several deep breaths, closing his mind and, for a moment, attempting to forget all the evils around him.
"I wonder where we have docked," Kelegalen murmured close to Aragorn's ear. The Dúnadan opened his eyes and stared out at the grassy hills directly before him. He was suddenly overcome with a great longing to break the chains that bound him and Legolas to this captivity and escape across the hills, but he knew it was impossible, so he banished the thought from his mind and instead studied the many Corsairs beginning to gather by the gang plank. He shook his head, not knowing.
Legolas' keen eyes probed the hills and he frowned, "I see smoke gathering above the horizon..." He trailed off and turned to the two human's next to him. "I fear we may have stopped for another raid."
Kelegalen's eyes were grim as he nodded. "Indeed, sir elf," he murmured quietly, "in the weeks of my travel up this river with these accursed barbarians I have seen many raids. Every one yields yet another crop of poor condemned souls to be used by the Corsairs for their own evils."
Legolas didn't reply as he watched several of the Corsairs descend the gang plank that stretched down to the ground and his eyes were filled with memories of some distant pain, regarding which he would not speak.
For a moment, Aragorn considered crying an alarm to the helpless people on the other side of the hills, but being as he was down wind from them, and with the Corsair guards on every side, he knew it was a useless endeavor. Useless indeed, for neither his voice nor any other's could possibly reach beyond the rolling hills before them, however this did not dampen his desperate longing to call out to the people, to give them the warning that he and Legolas had not had, before it was too late.
But it was already too late. The Corsairs disappeared along the path leading around the bends into the midst of the hills; the light was failing and darkness was coming on as the last rays of sunlight were banished from the sky.
It was not long before the cries of terror and screams of anguish drifted across to the prisoners. Legolas mentally flinched upon every cry, and Aragorn tried desperately to block out the sounds of the raid, but to no avail. Kelegalen, he saw, was staring emotionlessly out at the hills that hid the ruthless carnage on the other side. Aragorn realized suddenly that Kelegalen had indeed witnessed great evil on his long journey since capture — this man of Rohan understood the fear and despair of those beyond their sight, for he had seen it before and the images were firmly imprinted on his mind.
None of the slaves spoke a word or barely drew a breath as the raid continued on, but, even so, there could be no silence. There was no peace, and the air seemed to turn hard with the brutality of the Corsairs. It occurred to Aragorn then — as he turned his gaze to Legolas, who was staring out across the hills, pain dimming the natural light in his eyes — that whatever the Corsairs had done to his friend the first time, what would a second bout do to one lone soul? Aragorn pushed the thought away...he really didn't want to think of it.
After a time there came the echo of the Corsairs' return. Legolas heard the sounds first, the piteous cries of those in pain, the decisive clank of chains and, worst of all, the ruthless laughter of their captors. Soon all of the slaves chained to the mast could hear them and each felt a bitter ache move through them.
By count Aragorn could see at least fifteen more slaves as they were prodded roughly up the gang plank, his eyes searched the face of each miserable creature as they were led towards the hold.
"Barbarians." Kelegalen spat, glaring at the line of prisoners. "Ruthless cutthroats. They would take captive a mere child for their dirty purposes." Aragorn followed the man's gaze to a young boy, perhaps ten, staring fearfully around him, his eyes continually falling on the horrible, scarred Corsairs that loomed on all sides. Aragorn saw Legolas' face tighten as the elf watched the child shoved down into the hold by rough, pitiless hands.
Aragorn let out a breath into the now cold air, and watched as the hatch was thrown shut once more, the work of chaining the newest captives already completed. Before long the Corsairs, still reveling in their success, shoved off from the bank and continued on down the river.
Finally one of the Corsairs noticed the prisoners and sneered, "You've all had far beyond your share up here." He motioned to several others and each unchained a slave from the mast. Then they too were all thrown down below and chained back to the wall once more. Aragorn could barely see the new prisoners in the darkness after the glare of the dying sun outside, but he could hear the other slaves moving to help the piteous band, gently assisting each to sit against the wall of the hold, which was now cramped with the many bodies of slaves.
"From Fladweth," Stavhold murmured the name of the small village quietly from beside Aragorn. In the darkness the ranger could see him shake his head. "It shall come to ruin."
Aragorn leaned against the wall and shut his eyes, trying to block out the gloom around him, trying to banish the fear and suffering, but he could not — not when it moved in the air, and when it whispered so near his heart.
Aragorn tried to will sleep to come, but it was a restless slumber that he finally sank into.
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Aragorn woke from his fitful sleep with a start — he did not know what had woken him and he looked around quickly for immediate danger. However, there was none other than what was obvious before his eyes.
Most of the slaves had fallen into much the same restless sleep as he, though there were a few who had been captives here long that were sunk into a blessedly deep slumber.
Aragorn could tell it was the middle of the night and from the slits above him in the deck he could barely make out the flash of stars in the dark, clear blanket of sky. He leaned back and turned to see Legolas. The elf lay with his head against his knees, his hair draped limply across his shoulders. And his eyes—
Aragorn jolted slightly in shock before hastening to remind himself of what Legolas had told him. //Sometimes elves sleep with their eyes closed...//
Still, he was worried. When he had questioned his father, Elrond, of this, Elrond had said that many elves that sleep with their eyes shut did so because of extreme fatigue or pain. Aragorn dreaded to think that either afflicted his friend, but he could do nothing and he had to admit his own fatigue as he sat in the dark hold.
Gently he brushed Legolas' shoulder with one hand; the elf did not even react beyond releasing a quiet breath. Having assured himself that his friend was alive, he settled back against the wall.
"Sleep evades you as well," a voice observed softly from the wall across from Aragorn.
"Yes, Kelegalen." Aragorn stared up until he could locate the man in the darkness. "I am not accustomed to such places."
Kelegalen smiled mirthlessly. "I do not believe any truly grow accustomed to places such as these, Strider." Aragorn did not speak for a moment.
"Where were you captured, Kelegalen?" He asked finally.
"Far down the river from here," Kelegalen's tone changed to distant reflection. "It was a month and four days back from this present day." He shook his head slightly in obvious surprise at how long ago it had truly been.
"You must miss it." Aragorn whispered, more speaking from his own feelings than anything he could truly assume from Kelegalen. The man let out a breath.
"I had nothing left to live for there; all I had was taken from me." Aragorn straightened slightly and the man continued to explain. "I had no family left but my brother, my wife and my young son." Kelegalen's voice held the echoes of a pain long buried. "But the thilwum fever took them all away from me, within days of each other. I was left with nothing, and when the Corsairs came I had naught but my own pointless life to defend."
Aragorn marveled at the man's endurance; until this moment he had never suspected that this man — so quick to aid others, so sure of what he believed in — could truly be so lost and alone.
"I cannot begin to understand your pain," Aragorn admitted quietly. "My true father and mother were taken from me, but I was blessed with a new father, two brothers...and Legolas." He added turning to his friend's sleeping form and, for the first time, letting a smile escape him. Kelegalen smiled slightly as well.
"To have a father, brothers and a faithful friend are indeed blessings, Strider of the North." He reached out with one manacled hand and placed it on Aragorn's knee. "Treasure them." He said softly. "Treasure them with all your heart."
Aragorn nodded and turned his eyes back to Legolas. "I do," he whispered.
Kelegalen eventually fell asleep against the side of the rocking vessel, but Aragorn could not; his mind dwelled on his home, on his father, on Elladan and Elrohir. Would he ever see them again? Would he and Legolas ever escape their captivity?
//Yes.//
Aragorn swore it with all certainty, he would not let them remain slaves like this. He would not fail himself, he would not fail Legolas.
Closing his eyes once again he at last fell into a deep and peaceful slumber.
TBC…