The Difference
by Leafy
Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations.
Author's Note: This fanfic is loosely inspired by an episode of the television show "Deep Space Nine", and is much more drawn from the movie of FOTR, than the book, though there are elements of both in here.
I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien or DS9.
Thank you for the wonderful reviews, everybody! :o)
Crystal Millenium: Thanks! I really don't remember much at all about the ep that I'm referencing, except that someone (Bashir, I think) was somehow transported to a dark version of DS9, or something like that. The aspect of Lego being long dead in one dimension, but still alive in another also comes from DS9, from what I think was the same episode (the character there having been Jennifer, Sisko's wife). I hope that helps, because I can't recall much about the episode (or episodes) for the life of me. :o) Also, Norgeth's twisted logic will be made clear in this chapter, and you will soon see what Frodo's reaction will be to Legolas. :o) Thanks for the review!
Ecri: Thanks for the compliments! I'm glad you like how this is going. That was a very nice review you gave me. :o) Thanks again!
Marissa: Hello again!! You (and your muses) will hopefully be happy to know that I can answer one of your questions right now. ::smiles nervously at the muses:: No, Norgeth and his goons are not from the dimension Legolas is now in. They're just a bunch of wierdos. Most of your other questions should be answered in this part. Thanks for the review! :o)
Onward!!
* * *
Chapter 5
'A Course of Action'
"How can we be sure that Norgeth still has the braid?" Frodo asked, leaning in at its mention.
"He treated it a s trophy of battle--I'm sure that he won't simply throw it away," Aragorn responded, from the corner he now stood in.
"Of course, we must first find a way out of here," Merry muttered, looking about at the seemingly-unyielding walls around him.
"I may be able to help with that," Emblethor spoke up, approaching the far wall, which was joined to Aragorn's corner.
Aragorn left his position to stand by the Elf, looking over his shoulder at a patch on the wall. The patch was about as big as the opening of large barrel, and was located near the floor. It stood out, slightly lighter in color that the rest of the wall. Emblethor gestured toward it.
"That part of the wall is weakening," he explained. "It is still too strong to be brought down by main force, but magic may prevail against it. I have tried; my magic alone is not enough, but--," Emblethor broke off, slowly looking back towards Gandalf, who listened intently from where he sat.
Aragorn looked back also, unsure. Gandalf's staff had been confiscated (though not easily) in their capture, and the wizard had now seemed quite drained by the resistance they'd put up. Whether or not he was even physically able to help at this point was no matter of certainty.
Still, Gandalf seemed little perturbed. He rose as Emblethor looked at him, and came to stand beside the Elf, facing the wall. He put his hand on the Elf's shoulder, as if strength and magic was expected to flow between them, in this link, and a wispy mist, illuminated only by the flask in the middle of the room, exuded from Emblethor's hand, which he had positioned in front of the wall.
Gradually, the mist built up, surrounding the area of the wall in question, but going nowhere else in the room. The spell looked to be putting no strain on either Emblethor or Gandalf, at this point. It seemed indeed that all that had been preventing Emblethor from making an escape well before now, was a need for the help of another magical being.
At long last, when the mist was so thick that it looked like a suspended wall of cotton close in front of the patch on the wall, Gandalf and Emblethor said some soft words together, which sounded as if they might have been in some dialect of Elvish, but as they were both speaking different words, it was unclear. As they finished speaking, though, the mist lifted, disappearing into the air like steam from over a cooking pot.
Aragorn, who had backed up to give the magically-inclined ones room, came forward again, in amazement. Exactly where the light, weakened patch had been, was a hole, in the exact shape and size of the patch. It led off into darkness.
Emblethor stepped back, a smile of vengeful triumph on his face.
"What now?" Aragorn said finally, looking back over at the Elf.
Emblethor looked at him, maintaining the smile, though it was now much friendlier.
"I'll go," he said lightheartedly. "I know this place well, and will be able to find Norgeth's chamber easily. He keeps all things dear to him in there, and I am certain that is where he has put the braid."
***
Norgeth sat in his chair by the wall just inside the castle, a growing headache of misinformation cluttering his mind.
What was all of this business with the Ring? The Elf, Legolas, had it--that much, he knew. Or at least, that much, he thought he knew. He'd heard tell of the fellowship that was taking the Ring to its destruction, and it seemed obvious to him that Legolas had it. Norgeth could think of no one more capable of the destroying the Ring, then an Elf. And, while he had heard some rumors (surely meant to throw Ring-pursuers like himself off the scent) of a Halfling acting as the Ringbearer, he knew that this could not be true. Reckless words like those were for the sole purpose of distracting those who wanted the Ring from the one who truly had it.
But Norgeth couldn't ignore what had happened in this room, not very long ago. When that little Halfling, whom he had presumed to be but a servant to the men on their quest, had stepped forward to speak, looking earnestly into his eyes, Norgeth had felt something strange--as if the Ring was much closer than he'd thought.
For indeed, he thought he'd very well lost the Ring, when he lost Legolas to the portal. He hadn't even been able to figure out a solution for that, before he was confronted with this new idea, that, perhaps, the rumors he'd heard weren't rumors at all.
Groaning slightly, Norgeth stood up.
"I'm leaving," he said vaguely to a guard, just inside the front doorway. "I shan't come back until tomorrow, unless there is some great emergency."
Not waiting for a response, Norgeth left the throne room, making his way down the darkened hall, toward his chamber. He could think much better in private…
***
"It's easy--I'll just go in, fetch the braid, and come back. I know where Norgeth keeps all of his possessions in that room, so it should not take me enough time for worry."
"Supposing he comes in and finds you," Sam suggested nervously, looking at Emblethor with near-reverence, and much concern.
"He won't retire until this evening, hours from now," Emblethor said simply, turning and climbing easily into the hole. "I can waste no more time, though. If a guard were to come in and see this hole, it would be ruinous."
Frodo came swiftly to the opening as Emblethor disappeared into the darkness of the hallway leading out of the prison.
"Good luck," the hobbit called softly, not really wishing for him to hear. "Be careful."
**********
"I'm truly sorry, I just can't believe you," Sam said, slumping back against the wall in exhaustion from the energy he'd spent trying to tell this strange Elf that Legolas was dead, that he could not be Legolas.
"Well, that's alright," Legolas replied, a touch dismayed. "At least you understand that I am not hostile."
"I don't even fully believe that," Sam said, though he sounded as if he didn't want to go into it. "I've merely been trying to stay off the subject, perhaps build up some trust between us, because it would be all too easy for you make an end for me here. And, despite the fact that I don't mind living here, I would mind dying here."
"Very well," said Legolas, now only weary from debate. "Believe what you like about me; I tell you nothing but the truth."
Sam grunted again, and they both fell silent for a while, considering their situation.
"I must try to see Frodo," Legolas said at length.
"What?" Sam looked up sharply. "Why?"
"Most obviously, because I wish to go back where I came from, and I won't do it, sitting here," Legolas replied. "But also--"
"He won't let you go, if you're a trespasser," Sam interrupted him. "He'll turn you over to Detarmor, and then, you'll be lucky if you are returned to this cell."
"But I've done nothing wrong," Legolas began. "Clearly, the only reason I was put here was--"
"That won't matter to Detarmor," Sam interrupted him again, speaking like he had urgent news to convey. "He's heartless, cruel."
Legolas paused, looking with surprise at the hobbit.
"Why should Frodo keep someone of that character in his employment?"
"He doesn't know he's 'of that character'," Sam responded, the emotions of frustration and anguished disappointment beginning to resurface in him. "He just thinks he's a bit ruthless--the perfect character, to be in charge of the palace guard."
"What makes him so ruthless?" Legolas asked. "Would he have me killed?" This must've been the "alternative" the other guards had spoken to Legolas of, before shutting him away.
"He'd like you to think that's what he'll do. But truly, death-threats remain mere threats, here. Frodo does not allow executions. An act of benevolence, I believe," Sam muttered, a bit sarcastic.
Legolas paused, assessing this new information. He rose.
"If Detarmor cannot kill me, then there seems still to be no danger in presenting myself to Frodo," he said simply.
"There is," Sam insisted, jumping to his feet, as well. "You do not want to get involved with Detarmor; he's dangerous, even without the ability to kill. Everyone fears Detarmor, everyone submits to his will. Everyone but Frodo. And that's only because Detarmor leaves him alone, waiting for his weak moments, to persuade him to do things he would not do, with or without the Ring. It was Detarmor who suggested that Frodo have me put here. Detarmor desires the Ring more than any of the others do," Sam looked desperately at Legolas, then sat down to look pleadingly into his face.
Legolas looked away, back toward the door again.
"You are trying to convince me to stay here," he said softly, gently explaining himself. "Yet, every word you say further convinces me that I must leave this cell, and speak with Frodo, to tell him what has happened to me, and what is happening to him. I will take whatever chances I have to."
Sam sat back against the wall, sighing miserably.
"It's your decision," he said finally, though he did not seem any more eager to have him leave. "I can't force you to stay here, any more than I can force myself out."
Legolas smiled a bit at the hobbit.
"I mean to get you out of here," he said. "That is another reason for my wanting to leave here."
"Well, don't go just on my account," Sam mumbled as Legolas turned back to the door, making his way over.
It was obvious to Legolas that breaking out of the cell (which didn't seem like it would be easy to do) would do him no good. If he was discovered by the guards, they would throw him back into the prison (or, apparently, worse) before he had a chance to speak to Frodo. Legolas knew, it would be better for him to provoke the guards, make them wish to bring him before Frodo.
Knowing this, Legolas extended his arm in front of the sealed hatch, leaned, and began pounding on it with all his might.
***
"You lunatic," the Elf-guard hissed, dragging Legolas by the arm with which he'd been making his noise, out of the reopened prison cell, then straightening up, leaving the other guards who had come, to re-lock the cell. "Do you wish to wake the entire castle?"
"I wish for my freedom," Legolas said emphatically, trying to turn to face the Elf-guard as he was steered down the hall.
"Well, you won't get it that way," the guard replied, tightening his grip on Legolas' shoulders.
"I'll get it by any means necessary," Legolas replied, hoping silently that his plan would succeed. "Where are you leading me?"
"Vodelin," the guard stopped another Elf, completely ignoring Legolas' question. "This Elf wants trouble. Go tell Detarmor to fetch Lord Frodo. He'll know what to do."
~~~End of Part 5