Hey! Hannah (Siri) here again!!
*dodges a couple death threats* Oh my!! :o Sorry!! ;)
Yes, unfortunately for Legolas his lack of sun/stars/light is beginning to wear on him.
This story takes place at about Year 2955 of the Third Age. It's just a year before Aragorn's supposed first meeting with Gandalf if you look on a timeline.
*hands Halo another tissue* Sorry! : )
Nope the odds are DEFINITELY against Aragorn, but Furnmorth isn't exactly the fairest person there is. ;)
Thanks Lily!! Unfortunately Sarah and my co-writing tends to consist of staying up to late in our room pouring of meaningless details while we get so exhausted we fall asleep ;) Thank you though very much for the compliment!! : )
HaHa! Actually we know neither Cassia nor Sio personally but have been fans of their writing for a long time. We *are* nice…sometimes…occasionally…really! We are! Yes everyone I know seems to be learning Spanish all of a sudden. While *I*, on the other hand, am taking a course in Irish/Gaelic it actually sounds a bit like Elvish at times =D And I have no *idea* what Aragorn and Legolas did to deserve this…that's probably a question for Cassia ;)
Oh my Chloe!! I'd suggest you get out of there!! ;) Yes well, I doubt he's practicing for Lurtz but he *will* need to learn how to fight unusually sized Orcs *somewhere* won't he?? ;)
*Plush* Legolas?? (heehee) Funny Leia! Hopefully this chapter won't leave you hanging as much.
Good question Ecri but I'm afraid…yup I can't answer it!! Sorry! I'm sure you'll find out soon though ;)
And onto the next post before we get mobbed or lynched or something equally unpleasant! ; )
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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 9
Paid in Terror
Now that the daggers held him securely to the wall, the orcs used their fists and feet to beat at him, leaping in and leaping out in quick succession. Aragorn's mouth was bleeding freely and his cries could contain themselves no more. Finally the largest of the orcs, Ragrak, motioned for them to stop, a gleeful look in his sickening, flat eyes. "Let us see the human escape us now," he suggested in a sly voice, using the common tongue to mock the ranger. There was a sound of agreement that rippled through the malicious band.
Ragrak pulled the daggers out from the wall Aragorn dropped helplessly to the floor. The orcs sneered at his weakened state, but the Dúnadan refused to listen. Rising unsteadily to his feet, ignoring the bruises that spoke of the beating he had just suffered, and the blood trickling down his leg from the dagger still lodged there, he tried to stand without leaning against the wall.
The orcs didn't give him a chance to recover.
One darted forward and slashed at him, causing him to stumble back against the wall in an attempt to avoid the blow, but still the dagger grazed his chest and the shock drew a hollow gasp. Another of the foul creatures dropped from the ceiling, using a clever maneuver to grab him around the chest with one arm, and kick him in the back, causing him to fall forward onto his knees. There, Ragrak struck him hard in the stomach and gashed the ranger's shoulder with the point of his knife. Aragorn sank down to the ground putting his hand across his face to shelter it.
"Look, the human doesn't want us to hurt it's face!" Ragrak mocked.
Aragorn couldn't see the large orc, or what it was doing, but he could tell by the gleeful cries that whatever it was, it was going to hurt. Several orcs grabbed him harshly and wrenched him around so that the ranger was once more looking up into Ragrak's malicious eyes. In one hand the orc held the smoldering torch that had mostly gone out on the ground. Anticipating the game, one orc grabbed Aragorn's chin and hair in his hands, pulling the ranger's head to the side, as, sneering down at him, Ragrak raked the hot wood right across the young man's face. Aragorn could not hold back the pitiful screams as the hot embers burned him terribly, missing his eye, but sending scorching pain everywhere else. Suddenly, unable to do any more himself, he felt how desperately he needed someone to aid him.
"Legolas," he gasped. "Legolas help me, please!" His fatigue, his helplessness, his pain — all mixed together in a desperate longing. Both elf and human knew how deeply they needed each other. Now it was Aragorn's turn to cry out for friend...but Legolas could do nothing.
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Legolas' eyes were glittering with unshed tears as his friend's screams filled his ears and rang in his mind. "Legolas!" Aragorn cried, anguish evident in his voice. "Legolas help me, please!"
The elf could take it no longer. Rising to his feet, he shakily brushed at his eyes and started for the chamber entrance.
"Legolas, no!" Kelegalen snapped; he had anticipated this happening eventually and was ready for it, rising in one motion and catching hold of the elf's arms. The elf tried to push past, but Kelegalen would not allow it, bracing his legs and pressing back. "This won't help him Legolas. They'll kill you!"
Legolas was beyond caring, and again he tried to push past. He was hurting and desperately sick — he could not think reason in this place and Kelegalen was well aware of it.
"Legolas, listen to me." Legolas shook his head, trying to brush the man away. "Listen to me!" Kelegalen repeated, shaking the elf slightly. Legolas turned his eyes up to meet Kelegalen's. "Listen," his tone quieted slightly, "you won't help him this way. Please, trust me, they cannot afford to kill him: he is too strong. You mustn't risk their wrath for something that you cannot stop."
Legolas shut his eyes as Aragorn screamed again, but when he opened him again, his senses seemed to have returned to him.
"Please Legolas," Kelegalen begged with him gently, "Strider will need you soon enough. Be here for him." Legolas didn't move for a long moment, then he nodded slowly.
"Yes," he nodded again, more vigorously, "you are right, Kelegalen." Slowly the elf turned back and sat down near the vent. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he gently rested his forehead against them.
Kelegalen *was* right. When Aragorn was brought back he would need immediate attention, and getting himself killed would be just like abandoning the young man in this place...and he could not do that to Aragorn.
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Aragorn was beyond noticing what the orcs did to him — he was so deeply hurt that it all mulled together, fogging his brain, and numbing him. He longed to loose consciousness, but the orcs had been making it a point to not beat him too hard in the head; they didn't want their plaything unable to feel their blows.
Still, it was too much, and when the strong blow came to his head at last, he was already unconscious.
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When Naraka entered the chamber he found the orcs still beating upon their prisoner, but he was no longer responding. The slave lay crumpled on the ground and for a moment Naraka wondered if the human could be dead.
The orcs reluctantly backed off when Naraka entered with his guards, Ragrak giving the young man one final kick in the side before backing off as well, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
//Furnmorth was right,// Naraka mused silently, //their longing for blood has been momentarily quenched//
The captain signaled to his guards and they dragged the ranger from the chamber, glad to leave the presence of the filthy horde. Naraka was leaving to report to Furnmorth, but he paused as his men dragged the human towards the slave's chamber and turned to look at one of the guards.
"How bad are his wounds?" He questioned idly.
"I don't think this one's going to make it," the guard answered simply. Naraka only nodded — if the young man didn't make it, there would be no chance that any of the slaves would be half so rebellious again.
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The guards threw Aragorn towards the hard stone floor, but Legolas was already there to catch him. Gently pulling the ranger away from the other slaves he laid the man down by the wall of the chamber.
"Oh Aragorn," Legolas whispered, tracing a finger across the burn on the young man's cheek: it ran from beneath his right eye to his chin and flamed red on the ranger's face. "Kelegalen!" the prince called, but the man was already beside him with the small pouch of herbs and healing ointments that Aragorn had had with him when they were captured. There was not much left of the supply — Legolas' injury, and Stavhold's, and the many smaller injuries of others had greatly depleted the supply — but Legolas would use them all if they were needed to save his friend.
As Legolas began to see to Aragorn's many wounds and instruct Kelegalen and Stavhold in what they could do to assist, the young ranger began to twist sharply at their touch and started to mumble incoherently so that Stavhold had to keep him down while the other two worked.
"Hold on, Aragorn." Legolas whispered so that only the ranger would be able to hear. "You'll be all right, I promise you."
It was well nigh onto morning in the world outside when Legolas felt Aragorn stir beside him. The two men and the elf had done all the could for the ranger and now they could only hope he would be all right. Legolas anxiously waited as Aragorn woke fully and stared up at him, seeming confused for a moment.
"Legolas?" He whispered hoarsely.
"Yes," Legolas nodded, "yes my friend, I'm right here."
"Our places seemed to have switched." Aragorn commented dryly. Legolas had to smile a little at that.
Breathing unevenly, the ranger tried to push himself up to a sitting position and Legolas stretched out a hand to aid him, easing him up until he had his back against the wall. Aragorn felt deeply in pain, but it was more the black memory of wounds than the true amount of pain that came from them, now that they had been cleaned and bound. He looked around the dark chamber and saw the many humans sleeping quietly around him, Kelegalen and Stavhold being most near. As he turned back to Legolas, he realized the elf's eyes looked glazed, as though he repeatedly drifted off to sleep and then started awake again.
Aragorn frowned. "Did you sleep at all, Legolas?" The elf seemed hesitant to reply, which was good as a negative to Aragorn. "Legolas!" He exclaimed as best he could with the pain in his chest.
"I did not want you to be without care." Legolas protested.
"Well what about you?" Aragorn's eyes flashed. "You know you are in no condition to be avoiding what little sleep you have!"
The two glared at each other for a moment, then Legolas sighed. "Why is it whenever you awake after being injured you find a reason to scold me?"
Aragorn tilted his head a little sheepishly, "Because you refuse to take care of yourself."
Legolas shook his head almost humorously, "Really Strider, I am doing far better than you."
"We'll see about that." Aragorn countered. Legolas smiled, but Aragorn had turned serious again. "I'm sorry Legolas." He let out a sigh.
"Sorry?"
"For being so weak...again."
Legolas shook his head instantly. "No Strider, you're not weak."
"I should have been stronger though," Aragorn conceded softly.
"Well I am sorry that I could not be with you, like you were with me." Legolas returned the apology quietly.
"You were with me," Aragorn contradicted, smiling again for a moment. "And you're here now."
Legolas smiled back, suddenly remembering Kelegalen's words. "And you are here too," the elf returned.
"And on the mend," Aragorn added, attempting to stand. Legolas moved to grab his elbow, pulling him back down again.
"But not completely healed." The elf scolded gently, checking the bandage on the ranger's leg where the knife had been removed. "Let us use the last of this time to sleep. I have no doubt they'll want you back to work again in the morning and you can walk then." Aragorn caught the hint of anger in his friend's tone and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
"There's always cause for one of us to be angry with them isn't there?" He asked softly.
Legolas' expression eased sadly. "I believe so."
A heartbeat later, they had both fallen into a deep and exhausted sleep.
TBC…