Title: Defeated
Written By: Dreamdancer
Email: dreamdancer@tekken.cc
Author's Note: OK, because of Cheysuli's charming pleas ^_~, Legolas will not have dark hair. However, for some reason, I don't want him to have blond hair…even though I'll be the one of the first to say how amazingly beautiful he looks in the movie! But still…it's just too…something…beautiful I guess…So, our lovely elf will have SILVER hair. Hey, it's possible!! Elrond has dark and silver hair… And Legolas is a "strange elf" according to his description in the book. Some families of elves have silver hair I think. Of course, Thranduil had blond hair, so I guess Legolas prolly would too. Personally, I think he has dark hair, because of this:
~*Frodo looked up at the Elf standing tall above him, as he gazed into the night, seeking a mark to shoot at. His head was dark, crowned with sharp white stars that glittered in the black pools of the sky behind.*~ The Great River, FOTR.
This is at night…so I dunno. lol
But yes, he will have silver hair. Just think Sephiroth like…just you know, with a taller, leaner Elven body. And that beautiful Orlando face of course… ^_^
Sighing in irritation, Legolas stood, brushing strands of starlight colored hair from his eyes. Sounds of dripping liquid could be heard from the depths of the dungeon. The walls were of a burnt red stone, the ceiling low, dark and sooty. It was a detestable place, one Legolas would never have imagined himself in. He hadn't seen the stars in almost a month, and his heart ached for clean air.
But the dungeons of Orthanc were more difficult to get out of than in, and he had not as of yet been able to escape, even though he had willingly and secretly entered. The secrecy had not been kept long, however; orcs had caught him mere hours after he had crawled in through the gutters. He had slain the entire band, a feat he attributed more to urgency than anything else, and did his best to hide the bodies. He was sure they had been found already, but the dungeons were large, and no alarm had been sounded as of yet. He had noticed increased patrols, however. But after the first attack, he had managed to stay out of harms way.
He would have been rid of the place much sooner if not for his own inherent weaknesses. After the first few days of his entrance, a week of claustrophobia had paralyzed him. Slowly it had abated, allowing him the strength of mind he now clung to by forcing himself not the think too much about where he was. At this moment, he was cursing himself for his cowardliness.
That week he had spent as useless as a dwarf counting his treasures had cost this Man, Aragorn, a great deal of pain. But Legolas was not one to dwell on the mistakes of the past. Gandalf had said that Aragorn must be returned to him as soon as possible. So Legolas would do that.
If only he could figure out how to enter the cell…
Legolas sighed, then inhaled, and almost gagged from the stench. He furrowed straight eyebrows in irritation, his fair blue eyes flashing. At loss of what else to do, the Prince of Mirkwood approached the cell door and frowned at the lock.
The entire cell was like a large stone box. There was no window, and the entire area was only about twenty-five paces long and ten wide. It was a dreadful place to be, and Legolas shuddered to think of spending an entire year there, with nothing but nightmares, haunts of past prisoners, and foul orcs with whips to keep one company.
The lock however, was made of metal. It was slightly rusted, but not enough so that he could break it, and he did not know how to pick it. It was of unfamiliar design, and no doubt laden with traps. There were no idle orcs lazing about with the key, unfortunately.
Of course things would not be that easy.
There was something strange about it though, although he could not decide exactly what.
Legolas was actually surprised he had made it this far. He was almost certain that Sauron would have known the second he began his journey toward Orthanc. And yet, not only had he arrived there, he had entered the Deceiver's dungeons! And now he was attempting to free a prisoner.
"But alas…the lock…" the fair Elf sighed.
Perhaps Sauron had known that the lock alone was enough to stop him.
"If only I could concentrate more," the Elf lamented. But the bowels of an unholy place like Orthanc was not a place Elves were meant to wander, and it was taking a toll on his senses.
This fact made itself further known when Legolas noticed footsteps drawing near to him, a tad closer than he would have liked. He could count eight pairs of footfalls about 500 paces from turning the corner that would put him in their view. In his current state he doubted he could take on that many orcs. Quickly, the tall Elf dodged into the shadows formed by a dent in the wall, caused by some large object being hurled at it some time in the distant past. The darkness covered his form, but not completely, and Legolas could only hope that the orcs would not look his way.
Then, his heart dropped when he heard orcs coming from the opposite direction as well. They were bound to see him! Feeling frantic, the Elf looked from side to side, his fair hair whipping back and forth, his forehead furrowed in anxiety.
Then his gaze fell on the lock on Aragorn's cell and Legolas noticed something about it that he hadn't been able to tell at his previous angle.
It was unlocked.
Of course! What fool would enter Orthanc's dungeons and get far enough to try a lock? Aragorn was chained to a wall, there was no danger of him getting out. Orcs were lazy by nature and had probably begun slacking off hundreds of years ago.
Cursing himself for his stupidity, and praying to the Valar that no orcs would notice him, Legolas ran to Aragorn's cell, opened the door and let himself in.
It shut with a stony clang, yet the Man within made no sign of noticing.
Legolas regarded him curiously, while trying not to vomit from the stench of the cell. "What a horrid place," he sighed, "For a King of Men to dwell."
Presently, Greenleaf heard guttural orcish voices passing by the cell door, and, to his surprise, a Dwarvish one as well.
"By the halls of Khazad-dum, I'll have all of ye as a notch on me axe! Ye-"
Legolas winced as his words were cut off by the sound off stone bashing skull, and the laughter of the orcs.
He heard the sound of a nearby cell being opened, something heavy thrown in, and then closed. A click of a lock sounded, and Legolas frowned at the orcs' inconsistency.
Perhaps they weren't planning on entering the dwarf's cell as much as they did Aragorn's for the beatings, and so, they locked it.
Aragorn.
The Elf cursed himself and Sauron for his lightheadedness and walked cautiously toward the dark man. His face was thick with beard and he smelled awful, but the Elf did his best to ignore the fact. He shook the human gently, placing his hands on the back of the Man's shoulders, and peering past them to watch his face. He frowned at the strength of the chains holding the man in place, but was pleased at the same time to see that the orcs had left torturing devices in the cell that could be used to remove the manacles.
"Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Legolas whispered, soothingly, "are you he?"
The man's eyes focused and he turned his head to the side, slightly, studying the fair features on his visitor's face. His heart twisted and his eyes filled with tears.
"So, they have captured more of the Fair Folk," he whispered back, hating what would happen to such a beautiful creature in this foul place.
"You have erred in your judgment, my friend," the Elf smiled, relieved to hear the strength in the human's voice, and touched by his concern. "For as you can see, no chains hold me." He danced away from Aragorn then, demonstrating his freedom of movement. It was in vain though, for Aragorn could not see him, being pinned face forward against the wall.
"What then, you come here freely?!" Aragorn's hoarse voice cracked in disbelief.
"Ay, for the chains that bind me are those made from love of this land, and to save it, I must free you from your more restrictive ones, Dunedain," the Elf answered, his soft, melodic voice contrasting sharply with that of the Man's.
"You are some spirit of my imagination then, for none living could have possibly entered Saruman's realm without invitation and gotten this far. Or perhaps another means of torture. You wish to get my hopes up and slash them into pieces, Elf? A Dark Elf then, is what you are. Think not that I don't know your kind!" Aragorn spat, angrily, squeezing his grey eyes shut and shaking his head.
"You judge me unfairly, Aragorn. But I understand your confusion. I am unsure as to how I completed this feat myself. But I do not act alone, and there have been others working to distract the Deceiver from outside, and I believe their efforts have worked, for I am here, and soon you will be freed. I am no Dark Elf, as you would call me, but Legolas Greenleaf, once a Prince of the Mirkwood. I am now just a vagrant, but a live one and for that I am grateful. Yet my life would be meaningless if I fail in my task to free you, Estel, and so you see why I must."
Aragorn sighed. "I care not what you do with me, Elf."
Legolas nodded, his silver hair falling into his face. Frowning slightly, he picked up a discarded axe in the corner of the tiny cell.
"You slay me then," Aragorn asked, his ears picking up the sound of metal scraping against the stone floor.
"Nay, Man, I come here for your chains, I told you. They are that which I slay."
Aragorn did not reply. The man was afraid to hope that what was happening was real and then to wake and find it was a dream.
As Legolas identified weak points in the chains holding Aragorn, and began to strike at them, a voice could be heard from a nearby cell.
"Let me out of here, ye durn orcs! You cannot hold me here! This is too foul a place for Gimli, son of Gloin!"
"Now why does that name sound familiar?" Legolas wondered at the same time as Aragorn said,
"He is a fool to call attention to himself."
"He's a dwarf," Legolas answered, as if that was explanation enough. He hit the last of Aragorn's chains, and the man fell to the floor. "Still we will be forced to save him. His name seems familiar to me, although I know not why."
Aragorn rubbed his wrists, black and blue from a year of being manacled.
Legolas watched him impassively, unwrapping a sword from within his cloak. He handed it to the bewildered Man, who was trying to stand, and quickly relearn how to walk.
"What is this?" Aragorn asked, taking hold of the beautiful blade, which shone as if in sunlight despite the poor lighting of the cell.
"The shards of Narcil reforged, Aragorn. You hold in your hand the Blade of Elendil."
"Do I…?" Aragorn whispered, his voice taking on a dreamlike quality. His grey eyes searched Legolas's face for a sign of a joke, but there was none. The fair features were smooth with calm, although smudged with grime, and his eyes were honest and true.
"I hope you can use it, Aragorn," the Elf said softly, his ears picking up on approaching footsteps. "That dwarf is providing a distraction, which is well, but that will increase the amount of orcs here."
"It matters not, Greenleaf," Aragorn said gravely, now too able to hear the approaching footsteps and recognizing the rhythm and voices for that of his torturers'. "For we are discovered now."