Author's Note: Hi! Ok, I was curious . . . what would your favored pairings be? I've read everything from the staple Aragorn/Legolas, to Haldir/Legolas, and even Elrond/Legolas . . . (and I've heard of Gimli/Legolas but . . . I dunno about that one . . . ) Anyways, you might try leaving your vote for favorite pairing in a review . . . ~hint-hint~ . . . cause I don't know where this story is going, and you never know whom I might pair our favorite blonde elf up with! Also, if you have any good ideas, I can always use some good inspiration, and I'll give ya'll full credit for it too! ;-) Enough with my babbling, onto the fic!

Legolas struggled to open his eyes. His lids felt heavy, and they hurt. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm his rebellious stomach, the Elven Prince forced his eyelids to fully open. A fire sent occasional sparks as it crackled near him. Several orcs sat about it, occasionally laughing or bickering. Near them were several animal carcasses that had apparently been their dinners. It was a drastically smaller party of the foul beings that guarded him. Legolas could only assume that these were the deserters, the ones that had fled in fear from the battle. He could hardly imagine the torture they might have in mind for him. With a quiet sigh, he feigned unconsciousness, his mind working on an escape.

Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn pressed on forward, urgency spurring them on. Elladan and Elrohir had fallen into a sort of melancholy, each filled with half-forgotten memories of their mother, and the torment she had experienced. Both wondered what they would find when they finally managed to catch up to the orcs that had taken their "brother." They remembered the marks their whips had made . . .

...as each blow hit exposed flesh. The orcs had ripped his tunic off, breaking the shaft of the arrow off in his back. It oozed blood, mingling with the blood from the whip cuts. The orc beating him moved around in front of him. The hide sliced the air, landing with a resounding crack upon his flesh. He could almost hear the flesh ripping under each minute onslaught. The Elven Prince bit his lip. He would not give these foul creatures the joy of hearing him cry out. One of the slashes cut across thigh, and he very nearly did shout. With a snicker more of the Orcs approached him. They had tied him so that he hung from his wrists which were suspended to a low hanging tree branch. The very leaves of the tree had shook with grief as the Elf was tied to it. Two of the Orcs grabbed onto the prince. Another of them clamped a clammy, warted hand over the Prince's nose. Legolas struggled, already dizzy from the pain and the concussion he was quite sure had developed for the blow to his head. One of those flanking him grabbed a handful of his long golden hair and roughly jerked his head back. Another produced a flask full of some sort of spirits. Legolas shook his head trying to free himself, but to no avail. He was given a harsh blow to the stomach in an attempt to make him open his mouth. Legolas was beginning to see spots before his eyes. His natural instincts took over as his body took a deep breath. He struggled as their foul concoction was poured down his throat. They cackled as they clamped the Elf's mouth shut, a hand still over his nose. Unbidden, he swallowed. It took less than an hour for the poisonous brew to fully effect his system, leaving beyond the moaning, retching, miserable figure of an Elf in its wake.

~~~~~

Elladan and Elrohir glanced at each other, knowing they were both thinking the same thing. Legolas was in trouble. They only hoped the Elves they had sent back to report to their father hurried. They were also worried. The orcs were not normally so brave as to journey so near Elven territories. The question was, who, or what, had driven those orcs to such extremes, and why? The twins were a bit afraid of the answer.

When it came time to stop for the night, none of them wished to halt. Concern for their friend pushed them well until they could hardly see anymore. Even with the twin's elvish eyes the trail was hardly discernable. Glumly, Aragorn collapsed on the ground and began sharpening his sword. The twins shared a heavy look, Elladan leaving to gather some wood for a meager fire, Elrohir removing a few supplies from their packs. It would be a slim meal, as the other Elves with the border patrol were going to be bringing more supplies with them when they rejoined the three.

"We're going to find him, and rescue him, you know." Elladan had returned from gathering a few small pieces of deadwood. The night had a touch of chill to it, as it was nearing winter. The twins had agreed that while they did not need a fire, or a warm meal, their human brother certainly would. Elladan dropped the wood in a heap and sat next to his younger brother, draping a comforting arm around the human. Elrohir smiled at the sight of his two brothers. This situation was eating at all of them. Aragorn viciously ran the whetstone against his blade, then tossed it to the ground along with the cloth he had been planning to use to polish it. Elladan pulled his brother into a tight embrace. "What's wrong, little one?" He whispered in Elvish. Elrohir sat, staring. He half expected the young Ranger to berate his brother for his condescending speech.

"Legolas . . . we were separated during the battle. He told me we should have made for the trees. Earlier than that he had felt something was amiss. Perhaps if I had listened to him, this wouldn't have happened. I should have stood beside him more during the battle. I should have done something! But I didn't. I didn't listen to him when he told me that he felt something evil earlier in the day. I failed him. I couldn't help him. He's always helped me. I..." The Ranger trailed off, his guilt making him irrational.

"Oh, Estel." Elrohir dropped down on the other side of his brother, embracing the human from his other side. While he had the human in his arms, he clutched at his Elven brother as well. "Listen to me, Estel, you cannot blame yourself in the slightest. There is only so much you could have done. Remember, little brother, that Elladan and I were in that battle as well, among others. We all could have done something for Legolas, if it was possible. Unfortunately there was nothing to be done. We will find him, though. I promise you that. Now, we'll eat dinner, and get some rest, so that we might get an early start." Elrohir held his brother for a moment longer. If only this hadn't happened. Orcs had taken his mother. They'd brutalized her in many a way. When she came back to them, back home, she'd been little more than an empty shell. Every time they'd hugged her she'd shuddered. She couldn't stand to be touched. She had hardly eaten or moved anymore. She never sang, or danced. She cried. Elrohir was horrified at the thought of the young Prince who had so captivated the hearts of nearly everyone who had ever met him falling into such a depression. He slowly released his brothers, wiping the tears from Aragorn's cheeks. Aragorn knew what had happened to their mother. That was what drove him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing his best friend any more than the twins could. Elladan smoothed Aragorn's thick, black locks from the young man's face, and kissed his temple. "Don't worry my little one. If those orcs lay one finger on him, they will pay, I swear." Elladan gave Aragorn one last soothing embrace, then rose to start the fire. Before Elladan could step too far away, Aragorn caught his Elven brother's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Thank you both," Aragorn's voice was gruff with his emotions, "you . . . are both . . . I love you. Both of you." Aragorn fumbled about, and finally finished, gazing at them with sincerity and love. They smiled at him.

"We love you too, Estel. Now, finish up with your sword. We'll have dinner ready soon." Elrohir smiled at the brusqueness with which Elladan spoke. He'd never been one to get overtly emotional. Elladan, with all the skill of one used to the wilderness, had a fire going, with water boiling, for some tea. Elrohir began to make a stew with some of the dried meat they had, mixed with herbs, and a few edible roots. Elladan handed Aragorn a mug of the tea, which the Ranger excepted, as he ruefully wrapped a blanket about his shoulders. Shaking his head with a softly spoken comment about humans, Elladan returned to carefully rationing out the bread and cheese. They had to be careful about how much of their food they ate. It would be a trial to run out of food, before the reinforcements arrived. They didn't have time to waste with hunting. If all else failed Aragorn did have a small bit of lembas left in his pack, which could hold them over for a couple of days.

Elladan sat down, a bowl of stew in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. Elrohir handed Aragorn his portion of the food, then took his. The three ate in silence, each left to their own thoughts, and prayers.

~~~~

An Orc shook the Prince of Mirkwood into a semi-conscious state. His head pounding, his mouth dry and foul tasting, Legolas managed to pull himself up. The Orc harshly grabbed Legolas' arm and hauled him to his feet. His hands bound in front of him, Legolas wavered on his feet, unsteadily. The orc pulled him along towards the rear of the group, motioning for the others to begin marching. Legolas noted that while it had felt like days that he had lain there, alternately dry heaving and dozing in a fit of waking nightmares, it had only been a few hours. Every now and then his stomach twisted in a horribly painful cramp. Noticing his slight grimaces, a laughing orc pulled a flask from his belt and held it towards the Prince in offerance. Noting the look of horror on the fair Elf's face, the orcs about them laughed. One of the orcs grabbed Legolas by his wounded shoulder, causing him to cry out. He felt something wet oozing out, yet he didn't smell blood. Legolas could only assume that it was infected, and that the wound was weeping pus.

The orcs stopped suddenly, appearing as though they were listening to something. Legolas moved his uninjured arm, stretching the shoulder out a bit, and wiping a bit of sweat off the side of his face. He knew what the sweat meant, of course. He was running a temperature. His Elvish healing was compromised, hindered even, by the continuous torture and abuse. It would only get worse. His only hope was for rescue. He could escape, though he didn't think he would get far in his condition. That didn't mean he wasn't going to try, though. The Orcs abruptly began moving once more. It was strange. Almost as if they were being driven, but who on Arda had the power to drive a band of Orcs?

~~~~~~~

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump......bang, bang, bang, bang! Lord Elrond of Imladris arched an eyebrow. Whomever it was outside of the door to his study was certainly in a bit of a frenzy. The individual knocked once more, sounding more than impatient. Elrond rose gracefully, fully prepared to give the person a piece of his aching mind. He'd had enough with the numerous document that needed his attention today already. He'd actually been relishing his chance to work in peace and quiet since he knew it would be short lived. His sons, Estel and the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, were scheduled to come back late this evening, along with their friend Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood. Thankfully, his friendship with the Elvenking of Mirkwood had been not only rekindled, but deepened considerably due to the extremely close friendship between their sons.

Before the Lord could open the door, his visitor knocked once more. He heard some soft talking coming from the other side then a cry of, "Peredhil, it is an emergency!" Ah, Glorfindel then. But what could possibly cause his friend such urgency? He called out for Glorfindel to enter, mentally praying that his sons, and their merry friend hadn't come home early and played some horrid prank, as they were prone to do.

The blonde Eldar raced inside before Elrond even had a chance to finish his sentence. He was a bit taken back by Glorfindel's disheveled appearance. Even more so when he saw the pale look on his friend's face.

"What is it Glor?" He implored the slightly wheezing elf. "Did you run from the stables?" Glorfindel nodded. "Is it Elladan and Elrohir? Were they injured?" Glorfindel shook his head, his blond braids whipping about his angular face. He held up a hand begging Elrond's silence.

"Nay, Elrond." The other Elf Lord ran a hand through his hair and smoothed his training tunic, obviously having come from working with the troops. "The patrol was attacked while they were out. It was Orcs. They rushed to the aid of two travelers. Estel and the Prince."

Elrond backed away slowly, feeling as though the room was without air. He turned away from the other Elf, leaning against his desk. His heart was held in a vice. He couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. But it was ok, because none of this was real. It wasn't happening, because it couldn't. Fate couldn't be so cruel as to take away his little boys. And Legolas...the very youthful Prince was as a son to him as well. How could he tell Thranduil theat his only son and heir was dead? This was not possible. Time seemed frozen. He felt as though the world would shatter if he moved.

"Oh." Was all he could manage to say. Inside though, he screamed.

"The..." Glorfindel faltered, "The patrol came back, except for two riders..." Oh, Valar....no, no, no....he will say nothing. He will say nothing because this is not real. It cannot happen. Not them too. "Elladan, Elrohir and Estel...they..." Glorfindel stepped toward his friend, placing his hands on the other's shoulders, attempting to turn the distraught Elf, and father, around. "Hear me Elrond!" He managed to turn his friends around and get the Lord to look him in his eyes. Glorfindel's blue orbs searched Elrond's dark ones.

"Please, Glorfindel. Tell me they are not lost to me as well. Please." Elrond's throat closed up. Glorfindel felt his heart ache. Elrond looked so lost.

"Elrond they are alive." Elrond pushed Glorfindel away from him, looking doubtful. "I would not lie to you Peredhil! They live yet! They went after Legolas."

Elrond's head snapped up. "Legolas? He was hurt?"

"Aye. He took a few wounds in battle. The Orcs took him," Glorfindel swallowed hard, looking ill, "the other three went after him. They worried that they'd never find him if they all turned around and headed for home." Elrond nodded, he understood. It made sense. That didn't mean he had to like it though.

"You have readied some troops then?" Elrond didn't need to see Glorfindel's nod, nor hear his quiet answer in the affirmative. Impulsively he pulled Glorfindel into an embrace, murmuring his thanks to the significantly older Eldar. Glorfindel had been a pillar of unending strength through many a hard time. This was just one slight instance in an ocean of instances as well. Glorfindel merely held his dear friend.

"They will be alright. They will be alright, my friend. They are all so strong, and so smart. They are formidable fighters. Everything will be alright. If I have to journey to Mandos's halls again, then I will do it, but I will see your sons and the Prince home safely. I swear it to you." Elrond pulled back a ways from his friend and smiled.

"I know you would. I am more grateful than you can know. Now, I shall go get some things together. Knowing those four, they are not going to be able to enter this home of their own volition. I will get some medical packs together. Have some of the servants pack some bandages. I'll also go get my armor and weapons. If you can think of anything else, get it together. We will meet at the stables." Glorfindel nodded, and turned away to race out of the room, and towards the cellars, where a large stock of bandages was kept. Elrond headed towards his chambers to grab his armor and weapons.

~~~~~~~~

Aragorn was finally asleep. He lay in a restless sort of sleep, tossing and turning, a safe ways from the small fire. Elladan rose and placed his blanket atop his human brother's form. Sighing, he stepped back towards the mound that was his younger twin, and sat close to him, leaning his head back. This was reminding him of the search he and Elrohir embarked on to find and rescue their mother. She had never been the same, again. Until the day she left. The day she left she had hugged them all, even their father. She had told them that she truly did love them. That she cherished them. She had held him close, and he had breathed in the soft, sweet scent of her perfume. He would never forget the smell of her perfume. She smelled gentle, like fresh flowers on a spring morning.

Sometimes he could swear that he could smell her perfume, as though she were standing next to him. He wished she were here now. She would know exactly what to say to comfort Estel. She would assuage all their worries. His twin moved in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. He frowned and reached over to brush Elrohir's braids from his unfocused eyes. This was tearing them all up. Memories were dredged from where they had been carefully locked away. Old worries and hurts were mixed with the awful knowledge of what the monsters were capable of. Now the threat was against their best friend, and brother, not of their blood, but of their hearts. Elladan distractedly stroked his twin's hair, identical to his own. Elrohir stirred under his touch, and sat up, looking confused. Elladan flushed and muttered an apology.

"Is it time for my watch?" Elrohir started to stumble to his feet, until he felt his brother's grip on his arm, tugging him down. Elrohir sat next to his elder brother, leaning his head on the other's shoulder.

"Nay. You were restless. I woke you up, accidentally. Sorry." Elrohir shrugged at the admission, leaning tiredly against his brother.

"Estel fares little better, by the looks of it." Elrohir's voice sounded a bit hazy due to sleep. He felt Elladan shift position a bit. Stretching, Elrohir lay back down, using his twin's leg as a pillow. Elladan fully extended his legs, and pulled Elrohir's blanket back up over the younger twin.

"Estel worries overly much. We will save Legolas. I will not let HIM be so harmed." Elladan's voice was full of an angry conviction. Elrohir reached for the hand that his brother was running through his hair and clutched it tightly. Everything would be alright, because it had to be. Yes, it had to be. Elladan let out a shaky breath. He knew his brother could read him like a book right now.

"Mother was not your fault. Legolas was not your fault either. Stop blaming yourself. And stop taking the responsibility for everyone else. We all could have possibly saved Legolas, but we were not led in that direction. Perhaps we would be chasing after Estel right now instead of Legolas. Or you could be chasing after me," Elrohir smiled as Elladan's hand clutched his tighter," or even I, you. My point is, this could have happened to any of us, and that no one can be blamed. It just happened. Legolas is so strong. I have full faith that he will be ok." Elrohir pressed his cheek against his brother's hand, then settled back, ready to sleep.

"Aye, we must believe that. You are strong Legolas. And have no fear, for we are coming for you, brother." Elladan gazed up at the star EƤrendil, silently praying to the Valar. He took his brother's hands in his other hand, and went back to stroking his hair. Elrohir smiled.

"Night, 'Dan. Love you." Elrohir whispered.

"Love you too, 'Ro, now sleep." Elladan leaned his head back against the tree trunk behind him, and began to sing softly, all the while whispering a silent prayer, only to hear it echoed in the voices of the trees about them.

~~~~~~~~~

Legolas felt another rough kick to his side. He had stumbled whilst walking, and had been unable to rise. He was so thirsty, and so tired. Another kick brought a feeling of something giving in his side, and a strange POP that seemed to resound throughout his being. It spread a slow fire of pain in it's wake. Broken ribs then. It didn't really surprise him. He lay perfectly still, trying to prevent his body from curling in on itself and giving into unconsciousness. He wanted to know the direction they were traveling in. It seemed to him they were traveling eastward, back the direction both he and Estel had come from. He vaguely wondered if perhaps they weren't traveling towards his home, Mirkwood. If they were, it would make his escape much easier. He knew his home, it was completely familiar territory. He would be able to get away and hide within the trees, hopefully. His only concern then would be spiders, but he didn't wish to travel quite that high within Mirkwood's boughs. Perhaps if he lay still, they would cease beating him, and let him get upon his feet. Then they could continue on and he would plot his escape. He would escape, or die trying.