Chapter Three

Sirith: Sorry about the cliffie, but then again, its rare that I DON'T use a cliffie… I like to keep my readers curious and wanting more. Thanks for your review!

Alklachion: Here ya go, the next chapter! Temeruil's problem is… he don't like elves. Most people tend to shy away from them because they fear them, and lets face it… elves can kick just about anyones ass if they want to. LOL And basically, men are defensive when another male is around…. While we women just lust after the elves…. Maybe that's why they get so defensive? EG Anyways, more elf beatings on the way… but not to worry, it wont last too long. J

Elenillor: Glad you still liked the scene… I had a couple others email to ask about it, so maybe I should have explained it a bit better eh? LOL Thanks for your kind review and I hope you enjoy this chapter… there is more elf whooping going on. EG

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"Do what you will to him Merdron. He has caused Lord Temeriul enough headaches," a guard said, roughly tossing the battered Elf down on the ground and leaving the man to his own devises.

Legolas's vision swam before his eyes as his mind replayed the last moments he could remember before drowning in darkness of sleep. He remembered his warning to the village, then the anger at his discovery, and the beating he had sustained thus far. Several bruises made their presence known as the Elf tried desperately to gain full consciousness and assess his situation more fully.

With wavering vision and clouded thoughts, Legolas registered the fact that his knife was now gone, the hostler no longer strapped to his thigh. His cloak was gone as well, the chill of the unknown surroundings crept through his moss-green tunic and seemed to settle in his very bones, something of which caused the elf distress.

A hard-booted foot kicked the Elf onto his back. A slight moan issued from Legolas' mouth as his body announced its wounds that irritated with movement.

A tall man with dark hair and eyes stared down at the prostrate form before him. His eyes narrowed in hatred as he ground out through his teeth. "Tell me why you are here, Elf?"

Legolas felt a surge of despair well up in him, but fought it down and took several deep breaths, his vision cleared and fixed upon the man hovering over him. Deep blue eyes pierced through a mass of disarrayed blonde hair matted about his face. "As I have already explained, I was sent to warn the villages of the orc bands that are traveling the countryside."

"I don not believe you!" The man spat, his hand came down sharply across the fair being's face.

The force of the impact sent the princes head lolling and a sharp stab of pain rent through his mind as he turned on his side, huddled up like a child fearing the imaginary monsters that lurk in darkened places. His vision blurred once again, and the acid taste of blood seeped into his mouth as his lip spilt and bleed freely upon the floor. His whole being seemed to burst with white-hot pain, scorching and seething its way through his veins and burning its path through his body, leaving no fiber at ease.

"Do you know what I believe, Elf?" The man asked in a soft, dangerous voice. "I think you came here to learn our defenses and to plan an attack. Catch us off our guard. Have your Elf friends to surround us and wipe out our village."

"We do not trouble ourselves with the world of Man. My only intention-…"

"Do not lie to me, Elf!" The man raised his voice in anger and stood directly in front of the prone elf that recoiled from the booming voice. "Tell me when they are to attack!"

The elf's blue eyes rose and stared hard at the figure over him. "The elves are not the ones to fear. The Orcs ar-.."

"Like we fear Elves! Do not test my temper any further!" The man kicked out, catching the elf hard in the ribs, doubling him up gasping for breath. "There have not been any Orcs in this region for many years. I will not fall for this trick! You have been sent from that elf woods to spy on us! Do not think me foolish! It is the Elves that have been attacking of late!"

"Mirkwood is also under the threat." Legolas tried to explain, panting through the intense pain that wanted to turn his world upside down. He felt every nerve in his body alive with firing pain, sending his mind into a tumult of chaotic overdrive that spurred his adrenaline to course through his veins. His body tried desperately to numb out the pain that laced through his midsection from the furious kicks he had received while unconscious, during his removal from Lord Temeruil's sight, but with little success.

Merdron eyed the elf for a few quiet moments, taking in what he had said and looking over the wounded being. Large reddened marks covered the Elf's face and neck. Deep purple and yellow bruises marred the being's arms and probably, noted the man, the Elf's chest, which was heaving with every breath. A light sweat beaded across the prisioner's face, mingling with the blood that poured from several open wounds from his abuse.

"If I believed you Elf, then I would truly be a fool. I have known of the ancient powers that your race has undoubtedly used on us for many years. Your kind is not to be trusted." Merdron said, stooping down and watching the Elf's labored breathing even out and deepen.

Legolas, feeling a sudden resurgence of energy and determination, rolled himself onto his hands and knees, and with quickness, though still slightly impaired from his mistreatment, kicked out at the dark-haired inquisitor, catching him off-guard and flush against his stomach, knocking the air from his body.

With difficulty, Legolas gained his feet and threw open the door, only to find himself face to face with several very large, burly men. Sighing, the Elf kicked out at one, landing a blow to his midsection and doubled him over wheezing for air. Then with as much speed as he could, he spun around, his fists connecting with a couple jaws as heads snapped back from the force of the impacts.

Merdron regained his composure quickly, his eyes darting to the fair being systematically beating up his men as he made for freedom. Snarling, the guard drew a small dagger from his boot and with a flick of his wrist, sent the projectile weapon at the Elf.

Legolas landed a hard punch to the jaw of a guard, sending the man crashing back against the floor, his mind already blank from thought before he struck the cool ground. As he made his way towards the door and away from the men, a sharp pain laced its way up and down his leg as a small dagger imbedded itself behind his left calf. The dagger pierced deep, its angry blade slicing through skin and muscle as it settled itself pointedly against the bone, grating painfully and sending agony throughout the fair being's already battered body.

Legolas faltered for only a second, his hand automatically going to his injured leg, but it was enough time for Merdron and his men to recover and converge on the Elf, their faces bloody yet masked with intense hatred. One swept his foot in an arc, knocking the wounded elf's legs out from under him and sending him crashing to the floor.

Wincing from the impact, Legolas stared up at the men; his teeth gritted through the pain, his eyes burning with intensity so strong it could have produced heat. Blood poured freely from the dagger still embedded deep behind his left knee cap.

"That was most unwise," Merdron said walking up behind the injured Elf.

Two guards violently grabbed the prince by his arms, hoisting him up and holding him in place as their leader approached, rubbing his midsection and massaging his injuries sustained by the elf's attack. With a malicious gleam, Merdron walked behind the elf and brutally twisted the imbedded dagger, then jerked it out of the fair being's wound.

Legolas winced, but made no sound. He stared hard and furious at the men surrounding him, his breath coming in hard, painful spasms as he felt his leggings dampen with his blood.

"Seems we have a tough Elf here men," Merdron started, wiping the dagger off on his sleeve and staining it with the prince's blood. "Not only do Elves lie, but they seem to enjoy being in pain. What do you say, we give him an example of what happens when one does not listen and attacks a Man."

The guards all grinned viciously.

Legolas felt a lump rise in his throat, but set his jaw determinably, praying that he lose consciousness swiftly and not give the humans the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

                               

Distant sounds of scuffles interrupted the Legolas's wondrous sensation of floating through nothingness, his return to consciousness slow and disorienting. Soft moans escaped his lips as his awareness surfaced. As his mind became more alert, he realized his eyes had been closed, and that was a thought that disturbed the Elf greatly.

Slowly opening his eyes, Legolas was half expecting to see bright light, or a harsh man hovering over him, but was surprised to find himself in a darkened room. He surmised it was underground, due to the poor lighting, cold stone floor, and low stone ceiling covered with a strange discoloration of what apparently was moss. Looking through the dimness around him, Legolas noted the rest of the room. A small, oval stone basin stood in the near corner. Small trickles of water escaped its roughly hewn edges, the slight smell of stagnation clung in the air.

A low hissing breath alerted the Prince to another's presence in the small enclosure. Carefully easing himself up on his elbows, he quickly scanned the room and its shadowed corners. Heightened Elven eyesight made out the figure of a woman, crouched low in the far corner, watching him intently.

Bringing himself laboriously up to a sitting position, Legolas kept his voice low as he spoke. "What happened? Where am I?"

The woman only glared at him through a mass of tangles that hung down around her shoulders. Even the Elf's soft tones seemed painful to her. She winced and tried to cower away further, though the stone walls holding her captive did not give way.

"I am sorry, Milady. I did not wish to startle you," Legolas lowered his voice to a mere whisper. He winced as his ribs ached, temporarily robbing his of breath. When he regained his composure, he asked,  "Do you know how long I have been here?"

A quick intake of breath was the only answer.

Legolas sighed and pulled himself into a more comfortable position, leaning gingerly against the nearest wall. He put his hand to his face, inspecting his wounds and bruising, guessing on their extent and their rate of healing. A large gash was partially healed along the backside of his left knee, the raised skin still tender to the touch. Legolas thanked the Vala that Elves heal so quickly, his mind darkening at the thoughts that raced through it were he to remain captive and heal much more slowly. He quickly quashed the thoughts, his mind going to happier places to lighten his dampened spirits.

A stab of pain tore through his mind as he quickly examined the right side of his face. His fingers traced a thin line along his jawbone, a mark where the skin had split from the impact of a large fist striking repeatedly. Further examination revealed a lump on the Prince's forehead, and a few tender ribs, severely bruised but hopefully not broken.

After testing his injuries and making a mental note of all the damage, Legolas stole another glance to the woman still crouched in the corner. Her eyes had not strayed from the elf, her body motionless. She could have had Elven training, with the stillness of her body and the blending, but her quick rapid breathing gave her away.

Loud footfalls and a rough voice alerted the two to a visitor at their shared cell. A small flap opened at the bottom of their heavy wooden door and a hand pushed a small tray inside. Then with a snap, the flap was closed once more.

Legolas frowned at the tray, taking in the small bowl of brown murky substance and the overly ripen fruit that lay scattered. The food was barely enough for one person, let alone two.

Perhaps the guards wished us to fight over the scraps? The Prince wondered.

Legolas stared at the serving then over to the woman still hidden among shadows. "Do they call this food?"

The woman continued to stare.

With a heavy sigh Legolas pushed the tray towards her, "I do not have an appetite."

The woman scuttled back further away from the elf, her eyes widening and a look of sheer panic that was evident even in the dim lighting of their cell.

"I do not wish you harm," Legolas said gently. "If you wish to eat, then please." He gestured towards the tray that was still within arms reach.

Wide eyes stared at him through the darkness. She did not respond, or even breathe.

Rationalizing that the woman was more than likely a long term prisoner, and that the inadequate food was probably the only thing she had been possibly given for days, the Prince rose up unsteadily and crawled awkwardly away from the tray, his injuries making his movement painful and hindered. Several times he had to stop and rest, allowing his body to recover from the exertion.

The woman's breath hitched as the elf moved. She mirrored his actions, keeping them the furthest possible distance from each other. She moved along the wall, watching him with a keen gaze until she realized that she had crawled beside the tray of food. The Elf sat with his back against the opposite wall and groaned, stretching his legs out and drawing breath in gasps. His face was screwed up in obvious pain, his breath hitching when a distinct move or twitch elicited more aches.

The woman began to take handfuls of the food and shove them into her mouth. Juice trickled from the corners as food dribbled down onto her clothes. She pretended not to notice, her eyes fixed upon the fair being seated across from her.

Legolas watched the woman with an impassive face. He had only guessed she would be hungry, now his inner voice confirmed that the woman was starving. He kept his face unreadable as he watched her cramming as much food as possible into her mouth. It was almost animalistic.

Deciding some introductions should be in order, considering he didn't know how long he would have to share the cell with the woman, he spoke as casually as he could. "My name is Legolas."

The woman stopped eating and stared at the elf with suspicious eyes. She answered by shoving more food into her mouth.

 Maybe she does not understand me? The Prince thought.

A thunderous voice at the door interrupted any conversation the Prince was attempting.

"Are you dead yet? Like your new home, Elf?"

A group of several men, judging by the different voices, were leering just outside the door and chuckling roughly, no doubt aware of the Elf's return to the living.

"Elf, do you like your little cell mate?" one of the men taunted.

Legolas sighed, refusing to answer the bribes coming at him through the wooden door. He forgot how detesting Man could be, thinking only of his best friend and his demeanor, which was totally opposite of the filth leering just beyond the cell door. His heart wrenched missing his human companion that he thought of as a brother. His mind quickly recollecting fun time he had with the human, and of the times the two had getting out of trouble. A loud rap on the door shook the elf out of his reverie.

"We better leave him alone, he may be busy," another man jeered. His friends laughed as they departed their voices and footsteps becoming fainter.

"Humans," Legolas sighed, shaking his head sadly.

A muffled noise came from the woman. Legolas looked up and found that she appeared to be crying. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her arms were wrapped around them tightly. She was rocking backward and forward.

"Milady, are you ok?" Legolas asked as he made to get up. Pain lanced up his left leg as the wound protested his weight, causing him to plop back down on the ground unceremoniously with a sharp intake of breath and heat flushing his face.

The woman started, her posture automatically assuming the defensive stance she adopted earlier.

"Milady, I mean you no harm," Legolas spoke softly again, trying to calm her frayed nerves as he fought to lower the intense heat burning through his body. Taking several deep breaths, wary of the piercing sensation around his ribs, he tried to mentally disburse the pain from his body. The exercise had the opposite effect as the injured ribs seemingly collapsed upon themselves with severe pain and fatigue, sending the fair being spiraling into unconsciousness once again.

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Legolas snapped alert in an instant. The first thing the elf's mind noted was that his eyes were closed yet again.

I have been around Strider too long, the Elf mused before a sharp slap caused his eyes to water. He opened them slowly to see a guard standing over him, his hand poised for another strike.

When the guard saw the Elf's eyes open he boomed, "Get up! Lord Temeruil wishes to see you!"

"Can I not sleep in?" Legolas smarted sarcastically.

"Come with me, Elf!" The guard growled, hauling the elf up by his blonde hair, striking him hard across the face to ensure obedience, and partially dragging him from the cell with his arms held firmly between two large guards flanking him.

The Prince tried to fight the men's iron grasp, but received a harsh blow to the stomach that doubled him over, trying desperately to quell the nauseous urges. His still recovering body buckled against the onslaught of pain, his mind desperately fighting down the fiery spasms that wanted to wrack the fair being's body.

"Do not try that again, Elf, or I will make you sorry." one of the men hissed wickedly in Legolas's ear. "I will bring the elf back as soon as Lord Temeruil is finished with him. Keep the girl company until we get back." The man sneered at his friends as they passed, some chuckling, others looking into the room hungrily.

"Oh, we will treat her just fine," one of the men said, advancing in the room.

The sound of those words made the Elf want to cringe in disgust, his head jerked around to see several men entering the room, and heard the distinct whimpers of the once quiet woman. The ingrained instinct of males to protect females kicked in full force on the elf as he struggled and fought to free himself of his captures and aid the woman. His movements were hindered by the large beefy hands, and wide bodies of the guards that struck him back, their aim true and swift as the elf raised their ire.

Legolas felt his head lull as he struggled to remain conscious. Intense white-hot heat burned through his body, mainly from his amounting hatred towards the ruler and guards of the village.

As the guards roughly marched the elf down the hall, the woman's screams echoed down to the Elves ears, tearing at his heart and mind. He silently prayed to whatever deity listening that the monsters responsible will be punished severely for their actions. A bitter taste for Man and his kin rose in the Prince's mouth.

During the journey to Lord Temeruil, Legolas mentally noted that his wounds were faring better. Only uncomfortable aches throbbed dully where bruises were healing, no doubt irritated by the blows the guards just instated during his escort. The dagger wound to his left knee felt a lot better, the Prince guessing that the skin had completely healed over, though still tender and raw to the touch. The gashes that lined the Elf's body were no more than lines that marred the soft smooth features, tainting it in various shades of healed skin.

The guards jerked and roughly handled the fair being down a hall and through a large opened door that beheld a room not as dark and dank as the one that imprisoned the Elf before. He surmised this was a level higher up, with better ventilation and more frequent usage.

 His stomach dropped to the floor as his eyes adjusted to the light bouncing around the room from the many candles. The candle-glow didn't give off a soft delicate flicker of light that usually adds a comfortable ambiance, instead only supplied enough light to cause even the most hardened of hearts to recoil and fade with the sights of the room. Large weapons lined the walls, chains and shackles littered the floor and hung from the ceiling, and a table laden down with many foul looking metal objects and a few bound bundles, rested up on it.

It was a room of torture. A room meant to break a spirit and destroy a soul.

Legolas swallowed hard, trying to dislodge a lump that had formed there without his recollection. He eyed the tall figure in the center of the room with his back to the door. He knew immediately it was Lord Temeruil and his heart and will fell into a blackened abyss within him.

"We had thought you left us," Temeruil said without turning to the Prince. "When you did not wake within a day, we believed you would not be returning. A tragedy, I assure you. How else would we gather the information we need?"

Legolas raised his chin defiantly, "You will get no information from me. Your energy on my torture will gain you no information, it will only be wasted."

Temeruil turned smoothly and glared at the Elf flanked by his guards. "I can hold you for as long as I like, taking you to the edge of your life and allowing you to heal well enough to begin all over again. In the end I will get the information I seek. It is up to you on how much of a beating you will take."

Legolas's jaws ground together tightly as the guards at his sides snickered, then forcibly threw him against the hard stone wall, knocking the wind from him and sending spots flashing before his eyes. They spun him around quickly and gave him a punch to the stomach, doubling him over and sending him reeling in too much pain to consider fighting back. They had learned their lesson about his resilience, and remembered to use extreme force to subdue him, or else chance his escape.

Heavy metal shackles were secured about the Elf's wrists and ankles; limiting his movements dare he try to make another attempt at freedom. Lord Temeruil unfurled a long leather case that chinked of metal upon the wood of the table. He withdrew a long, slender knife, one that was so thin it resembled a piece of paper. The high polished surface reflected the cruel smile on Temeruil's face as he saw the terror rise in the Elf's eyes.

With a quirked brow he replaced the knife, and withdrew a long roughly hewn rope that was entangled with a whip. Both uncoiled from one another easily and fell lax against Temeruil's side.

"Looks like we have plenty of things to play with," Temeruil started, advancing on the elf with a snarl on his lips and hatred in his eyes. "I just hope I remember to pace myself. I do not wish to lose an elf at my mercy, when there are so many things I could learn about him, his people, their weaknesses, and of course, the best way to effectively kill them."

Legolas glared at the man as he neared, his defiance clouding over his fear as he refused to turn away from the wretched human. Though he knew the torment coming, Legolas wouldn't allow Temeruil the satisfaction of his cries or his fears. He steeled himself up for what was to come, part of his mind retreating into itself, hoping to stave off the coming punishment and hide away from the torment that was in store.

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I know, I'm evil.. Poor Legolas with lots of boo-boos, and all the torture he endures. And there is more to come… alas.. it gets worse before it gets better. But never fear, he will heal! J

Thanks to all my reviewers.. you guys are GREAT! great big hugs