Hannah (Siri) again!!
WoW!! Thank you everyone for all the delightful feedback. *hugs all* You're so nice :D
*laughs* Everyone reacted to the hair I notice!! ;) Well, you'll be happy to know that, since Naraka only grabbed the 'edges' of his hair, our favorite elf didn't go and shave himself bald to get the nasty-ugly-annoying-freak-of-a-man off him =D However as several people pointed out, having shorter hair is better than being dead ;)
Chloe! You'll have to stop incorporating all these private jokes before somebody thinks we're all crazy!….maybe it's too late for that ;)
Oh and about dwarves trusting elves Infinitys_end *smiles innocently* that's a very interesting point you bring up. It will be interesting to find out won't it :D
Oh my!! *takes refuge behind Sarah* Littlefish has TEETH!! ;)
Yeah well…Aragorn's in for a…time now isn't he : )
Thank you Emmithar! (though I still disagree : ) Yeah, well Sarah and I pretty much review on the chapters that we wrote. For Instance I wrote most of the last chapter, which is why I'm talking your ear off now =D
Unfortunately Gimli can't show up until years later, but that doesn't mean we won't have many…many *other* dwarves ;)
Yes Ecri, we had a pretty good idea that especially our Legolas fans were *not* going to like us doing things to his hair ;) And as for them wriggling out, where they are right now it's a *little* hard to find good help ;) Too bad for them I guess. :D
Thank you very much Rainydayz! I'm glad you are enjoying it. Please rest assured that we NEVER write slash and never INTEND to write slash either. I too believe it is a pretty hefty contradiction to Tolkein's world.
*laughs* Sure we'll post medellia!
Umn…quick note before I post: Don't Kill Me Please (heh heh) I'll be going now…
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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 13
Death or Despair
Two days. Two very long days Legolas had run over the top of the snow in the Iron Drifts. He still did not dare stop, fearing it could mean his life if he did. He had not felt the presence of any living being about him for some time, but he did not dare to hope that Naraka had given up the chase. The elf was still very shaken by his near capture at the mouth of the drifts.
Legolas knew from previous study exactly where he could find Gilthad: it was one of the few mountains that rose above the others, piercing the sky and biting down on the air with cold stone teeth, and when he saw it he put on an extra burst of speed. He was nearly there.
The ground ended up ahead — this he could tell by the change in air currents, and the sudden downward slope of the earth beneath him — but he could not gauge how far down the drop off went. He was given a stunning shock, then, when he slid off the edge expecting to catch himself shortly below, and instead came crashing down nearly twenty feet. This would not have been a problem had he been expecting it, but he was not, and instead he fell, quite unceremoniously, to the ground below, his legs crumpling beneath him and letting him drop in exhaustion to the ground. His jarred body throbbed mercilessly and for a moment he lay there, trying to regain his breath. This would be a fine state for Naraka to catch him in, and with Gilthad not forty paces away, he could not risk it. Rising to his knees he prepared to close the distance between himself and the looming mountain.
"Don't make one move elf, if you value your pretty head."
Legolas heard the voice but he was more concerned about the cold metal he felt pressed against the back of his neck. "Get up!" The gruff voice snapped, jabbing the axe hard against the elf's neck. Legolas could have kicked himself for being so careless. Of *course* there would be dwarven sentries posted looking for trouble...and they'd found him.
Biting back frustration, Legolas obeyed and held perfectly still. He saw another dwarf appear in front of him and flinched as the stout miner gave him a passing kick in the still healing leg. The only difference Legolas could see between the two sentries was that the newcomer had a bow as well as an axe, and though he was mildly surprised, since dwarves seldom used such weapons, he assumed that amongst mountains such as these, it was likely that archers were needed for hunting.
"What you got here, Moín?" The dwarf asked, looking suspiciously at Legolas.
"An elf snooping around. Came charging over the cliff bank not five seconds ago." Moín replied, a note of glee in his harsh voice. Legolas doubted that if he told them he was actually *fleeing* over the cliff it would make any difference, so he remained silent.
"What you going to do with him?" The other dwarf asked, drawing his own axe.
"Kill him of course." Moín replied simply.
"Wait," Legolas broke in smoothly, "I have come to speak with your lord."
Legolas could not see Moín but he heard the dwarf snort skeptically. "Absolutely elf, we're going to let you speak to Lord Dorm. No difficulty whatsoever."
The elf prince tried to think of something to do. He had Naraka's blade still tucked in his belt, but he was hesitant to use it on these dwarves when he wanted them to trust him. "I must speak with Lord Dorm." Legolas tried not to plead with the diminutive imbeciles as he suddenly wished that Aragorn was with him. The ranger had the uncommon ability to converse with anyone and make even the most insufferable fool see reason. "I must warn him of your danger."
"Our danger eh?" The dwarf before him chuckled at that. "Ah yes, we're being invaded by foolish little elves, that's dangerous, that is."
Legolas' patience was wearing thin, he wanted to avoid using his knife, but he was running out of options.
"If you do not let me see Lord Dorm then a great peril will fall upon you unawares and all your rich halls will be taken by the enemy!" Legolas snapped vehemently hoping to get through to them. "And wouldn't your lord appreciate that?"
Moín snorted again and jabbed his axe harder against the back of Legolas' neck, but the other looked uncertain.
"Moín," he frowned, "perhaps we should just let him speak to the Lord — he may not mean harm."
"Forget it Nowin." Moín snapped.
"We should at least tell Bonfur." Nowin reasoned. "He will want to know."
"We *cannot* tell Bonfur." Moín instantly refused. "You know what he did last time we had a spy here."
"Perhaps, but we are under his watch," Nowin argued.
"That doesn't matter!" Moín exclaimed angrily.
"Oh doesn't it?" A new voice came. Legolas tried to see the latest dwarf, but he had walked up behind them. "What is this Moín: rebellion?"
"No Bonfur, sir, but I found this spy lurking around trying to assassinate Lord Dorm."
"I mean nothing of the kind—" Legolas began, but was cut off as Bonfur kicked him.
"Quiet you!" The dwarf moved around in front of Legolas and looked him up and down.
"Should I kill him sir?" Moín asked eagerly. Bonfur reached out one strong hand, calloused by rock work, and gripped Legolas' chin, tilting the elf's head up and looking into his blue-gray eyes. A look of pure disgust crossed his face and he released Legolas' chin.
"I have no love for elves, you know that. But would an elf come blundering into our fortress with the purpose of killing our lord and be fool enough to be caught by you, Moín?" Moín caught the barb and glowered at his watch leader. "No, I think Dorm should see this one. After all, maybe we can question him later: get some answers out of him." Bonfur gestured to the two dwarves. "Take him to Lord Dorm's meeting room and be quick about it."
Snarling something about pompous leaders depriving him of his rightful pleasures, Moín started to obey the elder dwarf. Legolas was relieved beyond words — for a moment he had feared that his life, as well as the lives of many others, would end right there, at the hands of a dwarf such as Moín. The two grabbed him up roughly by the arms and jerked him forward hard, but Legolas yielded to them and did not react when Bonfur took the dagger from him. The dwarf examined it with a frown.
"It's of orcish make," he observed. "Where would an elf pick up such a thing?"
"He's been mixing with them orcs." Moín replied instantly, obviously hoping he would still get to execute the prisoner.
"Right," Nowin smirked, "an elf mixing with orcs. That's right near amusing, Moín."
"Quiet!" Bonfur growled the order, then sheathed the knife. "This will be another thing you'll have to explain to Lord Dorm, *elf*." He emphasized the word with a kick to Legolas' side. "Now get up and get moving before I let Moín have you!"
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Aragorn finished off with the last of with the final scimitar he'd been working with. Not three minutes ago every other slave had been taken to the slave chambers, but Aragorn had been told to finish up the last few scimitars himself. Now the guards were retrieving the next shift and Aragorn was virtually alone, but that did not make the foundry any less noisy. The guards milled everywhere and the hot fire crackled and sputtered; distantly he could hear the growls of the orcs and he shuddered involuntarily.
The thing that made him most concerned, though, was the presence of Furnmorth. The lord was, at the moment, examining the most recently produced weaponry, and since he didn't often show himself to the slaves, paying a visit to his foundries in between shifts was common enough. But it was also unnerving. Concentrating on his work, Aragorn attempted to block out the lord's presence, when abruptly he realized that Furnmorth had halted not twenty paces in front of his station. Carefully he looked up, wondering what he had done to draw attention to himself — however, Furnmorth was not looking at him, but past him.
"Ah Captain," the lord greeted as Naraka approached him. Aragorn felt his heart lurch suddenly. Naraka looked very...pleased.
The captain strode proudly over to his overlord, giving a short bow, as Aragorn leaned past his anvil to see what — Then he felt his breath stop altogether. Naraka murmured quietly to Furnmorth then pulled something from his belt, but Aragorn had all ready seen it.
A raggedly cut handful of gold hair.
Aragorn let out a quick gulping breath and moved forward, hesitation in his every step. This could not be… He was but ten paces away and heard Lord Furnmorth's words clearly.
"He is dead then?"
"He is dead." Naraka confirmed, condemning Aragorn's heart to sudden death. "He nearly reached the Iron Drifts; had he made it there he would have been safe, but I caught him just before and cut him down." He fingered the soft strands and smiled, as if over fond memories. "Fool of an elf — he was so intent on escaping." The captain firmly tied the hair to his belt and it hung there, drifting slightly in the warm air-currents, pale and clean as winter sunlight; contrasting sharply with the dark garb of the murderer who now held it.
Aragorn felt his heart crumble, freezing the tears in his eyes as he stood stock still in the very center of the floor. Furnmorth turned, as if noticing the slave's presence for the first time, and raised a delicate eyebrow.
"Back to your work, slave." He said firmly. Aragorn didn't move, he *couldn't* move. The words kept repeating themselves and his head, telling him to believe it.
*Legolas is dead, Legolas is dead, Legolas is dead...*
//No! It cannot be!//
"Back to work slave!" Naraka snapped, kicking Aragorn hard in the legs. The young ranger fell to the floor, not even trying to resist the impact, he curled in on himself slightly as his breath left him. Naraka moved over and grabbed the ranger firmly by the collar of the tunic, jerking him hard to his feet. "I said: get to work." His tone was low and menacing. Aragorn lifted his eyes to the captain, to the man's cold eyes, and the sneer still plain on his face. This man had destroyed the last hope for Gilthad and Mirkwood — had extinguished an immortal life — had murdered his friend.
Pain was born without shame in the ranger's clear blue eyes and he jerked away from the man, loathing his very touch. Naraka cracked his hand harshly across Aragorn's face in response, knocking him to the ground.
"This one is still trouble!" Naraka snapped angrily.
"Indeed," Furnmorth nodded. With barely concealed annoyance, the lord moved over to the young man lying on the ground. A dark bruise was beginning to form on Aragorn's cheek, but he didn't notice — his eyes were shut and he did not move. "Get up." Furnmorth ordered calmly, not betraying his anger.
Aragorn didn't answer or move.
"Very well," Furnmorth said after another moment. "Take him to the slave chambers." Naraka jerked the young human to his feet. "And I would suggest that you try to get as much rest as you can, slave," the man fixed his dark eyes on Aragorn's, "because for the next six days you will be refused sleep or rest of any kind." He motioned to Naraka and the captain began to drag Aragorn away.
The ranger didn't care. The world was falling apart around his head. He had lost so much and he was so alone. He was completely numb to the harsh jostling and jerking from Naraka as the man pulled him to the slave chambers. With a firm shove, he threw Aragorn to the floor of the cave.
Aragorn let out a gasp of breath as he hit the ground. For a long time he just lay there, on the cold stone, clenching his fists as the shock of the moment began to wear off. Carefully he sat up against the rock wall and looked numbly around him. All the slaves were asleep, none stirred, he was alone...so alone. And with this realization came an ultimate breaking point. Drawing his knees up to his chest Aragorn pressed his forehead against his folded arms and let the burning tears sear his cheeks. His heart was broken and his loneliness total.
Legolas had died.
Aragorn was falling into despair.
For moments or days he sat there in pain, missing his friend desperately and longing only to leave this place of fear and dread. But he knew there was no chance for that now, so he let himself go. What worth was there in anything anymore? //Just give it up…//
Suddenly a voice broke into his mind.
*"Stop worrying and sleep, Strider. We will find the answer, we cannot give in...not now."*
Legolas' words had been spoken with such certainty, but how could he not give in? He had nothing left to live for in this place.
He almost smiled when he thought of what Legolas would have said to that.
*"So very like a human: ready to give up just when things start to get hard."*
"I just can't keep trying Legolas." Aragorn whispered. But then, quite abruptly, his mind was filled with images of Mirkwood, of the forests of trees, of the grand halls of King Thranduil, of Raniean, Trelan, Silinde, Meldir and so many other elves he had come to know since he had met Legolas. Could he truly let their beautiful world fail simply because he would do it alone? Legolas had risked his life in this to save his home...Aragorn could do no less. Letting out a tired breath, the ranger leaned back against the hard wall. "Yes," He whispered. "I will do it for Mirkwood, Legolas... I will do it for you."
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Legolas tried hard not to panic as he was dragged into the chambers of Dorm, son of Damrod. He knew that he'd have a very slim chance of convincing the lord of Gilthad of his danger without evidence to support his words, but he'd have to try.
He was forced to his knees when they entered the chamber, which would have been embarrassing even for a man, and for an elf was quite nearly unbearable. However Legolas swallowed his pride as best he could and settled his eyes on the dwarf lord slightly above him. Dorm didn't look like much that Legolas could see — he looked like all dwarves, with a thick and scraggly beard of an earth toned brown, and beady eyes that studied the prince from behind bushy eye brows. For a moment Dorm said nothing as Bonfur explained the situation. When the sentry had finished explaining all he knew for certain he added, as though he'd be working up to this statement all along. "Indeed, he is likely some sort of trouble, Master Dorm. I would suggest he be questioned until we get the truth of him."
Dorm glanced down at Legolas, and the elf did not move his eyes from the dwarf's face. "What do you have to say in your defense, elf?" He demanded.
Legolas, finally allowed to speak, lifted his head and let the words carry around the chamber. "My Lord Dorm," he began, suffering himself to use the dwarf's title so as not to stir him up, "I have come to warn you of a great danger that threatens your halls of stone. At this moment a man, Furnmorth, is amassing a great army, outfitting them with armor and weapons so as to march on your mountain. They intend to tunnel beneath you and come upon you unawares and unprepared."
As Legolas had feared, Dorm didn't react to the news. "Is that so?" His voice was unbelieving. "And why would an *elf* have any interest in what happens to our mountain?"
Legolas didn't want to specifically mention Mirkwood's own peril if he could possibly help it, for fear that the dwarves would use that against him. "Surely my lord can see that if your mountain is taken, than so will be all the Grey Mountains. Middle Earth would stand no chance against an army of the magnitude Furnmorth could muster, if he had control of the northlands in such a way."
Dorm snorted irritably, "Indeed, elf, you try my intelligence. I understand perfectly. But there are no others in these places that would threaten us, and I see no army anywhere near."
"They are lodged in Mount Gundabad at this very moment—"
Legolas was cut off by a round of laughter from the dwarves. "Mount Gundabad, eh?" Moín sniggered. "Everyone knows that that mountain has not been occupied since the dwarves of my ancestry drove the orcs from it centuries ago!"
"It is again!" Legolas argued, raising his voice. "And if you do not act quickly an orc army will come upon you in no more than five days hence."
"Master Elf you speak madness," Dorm shook his head. "This army you speak of — if indeed they were lodged there once again, we would have seen signs of it."
"He hides himself well, my lord." Legolas' eyes were earnest as he looked up at the dwarf lord. "Please, you must believe this."
"And what evidence do you have of your words' truth?" Dorm demanded, leaning forward. "I will not be so humiliated as to be sent on a pointless venture by an ignorant elf."
Legolas grit his teeth against the barb. "I would not have you so, Master Dorm, I only wish you to consider that which I say. I have proof with me even now, for I carry an orc-made dagger stolen from one of their human captains."
"Orcs with human captains!" Nowin guffawed loudly. Legolas flinched as the dwarf cuffed him across the face in what may have been meant as a light gesture, but stung like a heavy blow on the elf's bruised and wind burned cheeks. The dwarf didn't seem to notice. "No orcs would listen to a human anymore than they would listen to an elf."
"Master Dorm," Legolas tried again as the lord examined Naraka's orc-made dagger which Bonfur had handed to him. "You must believe me. Your halls may depend on it, as well as many other lands in Middle Earth."
Dorm didn't reply for a long moment, and Legolas tried to read the signs behind his black eyes, but what he saw there did not give him hope. "I will not consent to be borne on the foolish assumptions of an elf — indeed, I believe you are skirting the truth to save your own neck! You have no information here that is needed to me, and likely no such information will be found." Legolas' shoulders slumped: he knew he had failed. Dorm turned to Moín and Nowin. "Take him to the dungeons — unless I can think of another use for such a miserable creature, he can rot there. I have much to do." Legolas stiffened as he was jerked to his feet. The prince tried to think of something to do, anything to recover the situation. But these were stiff necked dwarves, as were all, and they would not hear reason.
Moín and Nowin had nearly reached the door with their charge when suddenly a shorter and surprisingly lithe dwarf came barreling past them, running towards the throne of Lord Dorm.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Dorm roared.
The small dwarf bobbed an apology which also doubled as a greeting. "My Lord," He practically squeaked, "Glor says there is something you must come and see!"
TBC…