A/N: *Ai, Valar! Give me the strength to do this!*

And... THANK YOU to my reviewers!! You all made my day! This chapter is dedicated to you! (er... with the kindest of intentions! Really!)

Also, a few words concerning the story that I forgot to mention on cp. I:

1) For those incredibly dense people, [*] indicates translations from Elvish, mostly Quenya, but there's some Sindarin as well; and ~*~ indicates thoughts.

2) I pick up the information directly from the books (or try to) and therefore, I'm trying to follow that story. However, there are things I don't remember all that well and others that I may have subconsciously added (Honest! My brain is perhaps The weirdest around... There was this scene in FOTR that I... Oops! Rambling... better shut up!), so I'd really appreciate that you'd let me know if I made any mistakes on this! I made up Legolas' birthday, though. Due to some strange metaphysic reason, I always imagined it that way (of course 'the movie people' have come up from nowhere with this weird number for his age, but I don't really buy it... until, of course, I know where they came up with it! Tolkien *blessed be* never did really write much about everyone's favourite elf... Sometimes I wonder if HE actually liked him...)

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Chapter II - Glaukh And Lokgur

When Legolas came to, he found himself sprawled on the ground. He did not open his eyes, nor gave any sign of his awakening, not wanting to draw any attention to himself, for he was sure the goblins were near. He simply laid still and gathered all the information he could about his surroundings with his other senses.

He could tell he was lying on rocky ground, by the feel of it on his back, and the air was fresh, despite the stench emanating from his captors. That meant he was still outside, the disgusting beasts had not yet took him underground, into their maze-like tunnels. So far, hope remained.

He could feel the sun shinning warmly upon his face, through the chilly morning breeze. 'Twas almost Laer [Summer], and Lótessë's [May] golden rays were beginning to pour down upon Arda. Legolas knew that the goblins did not like the sunlight and that was probably why they weren't moving. He listened carefully - he could hear several of them breathing quite loudly somewhere to his left, probably sleeping, he guessed, while others were talking somewhere beyond his feet. He didn't listen to their talk, for their voices were hard and rasp and they hurt his sensitive ears. Things were not looking so bad after all.

His wrists and feet were bound, but he was almost certain that the ropes were old and that he could work them out or break them. That way, he would most likely be able to make a silent escape from that foul camp without the goblins realising it. At this thought, Mornië came to his mind. What had happened to his faithful friend? He hoped she was well and had managed to escape somehow from the conflict the night before.

He heard footsteps coming towards him. Distant at first, then louder and louder as the gap between them was diminished. It untied the bonds holding his legs. He found it strange and, for a second, wondered why it was so, but immediately it dawned on him what the goblin wanted. It grabbed him and shook him violently, till Legolas did indeed open his eyes to show he was awake. As he did it, he regretted it. More goblins were watching from afar and a look of pure hatred and cruelness crossed their twisted features as they saw that their newest prisoner was indeed awake.

The one holding the elf released him and stepped back as the others came near, and at once, and for the second time in two days, Legolas was completely encircled by ill looking mountain goblins. Some had clubs, and others had them too, but with added spikes on the top. One had a macabre sort of glove incrusted with shiny spikes. Legolas worried about this one, for those were a sort of purple in colour and the only explanation he could find was that they were most likely poisoned. The one who looked to be their leader, for he stood closer than the others and had a different stance, wielded a long black whip. It cast the sun's reflections into the elf's eyes and the Prince knew that there were pieces of metal woven into it. They spoke not, but once again, the experienced warrior needed no words to know exactly what would happen.

The leader, Glaukh was his name, came forward and stood before Legolas. The elf heard, however, another walk and approach him from behind, but before he could consider this, its weapon connected with one of his legs. He felt excruciating pain at that, and his leg would not support his weight. By the sound it had made and the pain it caused, Legolas had no doubt it was broken. ~Ai! So much for an easy escape!~, he thought. The one who had hit him, Lokgur it was, then stood above him and ripped off the clothes on his torso. He smiled cruelly and backed away, leaving the prisoner, Glaukh and the whip alone in the centre of the circle.

The Mirkwood elf's senses were overloading due to the amount of pain his leg was causing and he dared not to even consider what was yet to happen. It was agonising, but he kept from screaming. He would not give them that pleasure. He'd hardly felt anything when Lokgur had pulled off his clothes; he had not even seen him, for his eyes were clouded with the pain he felt. Right now, though, he was regaining control and he felt a presence hovering somewhere above, blocking the sun's comforting rays.

A whip lashed out and hit him full on the right side; immediately it was pulled and another stroke fell at exactly the same spot. Glaukh was thoroughly enjoying himself, whiplash after whiplash torturing the elf, trusting it would not be very long until his disgusting musical voice cried out - now, that would be melodic to the foul creature's ears.

However, it was not so. Mirkwood's elven Prince did not yell, but he did give in to unconsciousness because of the pain. His right side was no more than bleeding flesh, the protective skin completely dragged out forcefully by the shards of metal on the whip.

As Glaukh realised this, he stopped his actions. It was no fun to torment one who could not feel it and besides, he was growing rather frustrated by the fact that the elf had made no sound. The group did not move though, and it was Lokgur who, once again, stepped out and towards the Prince. He kicked him viciously on the same place the whip had and soon there was a loud moan as answer from the still somewhat limp body. Tired of it for now and utterly angered that Lokgur had managed what he had not, Glaukh allowed his inferiors to do what they pleased with the captive and left.

Hearing this, since they now spoke in Westron, Legolas tensed up, for he would most likely be beaten or whipped till Mandos claimed his spirit. T'would take a long and agonising time, for if elves were resistant folk, those of Thranduil's House were of the strongest ones to walk still in these shores.