Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.
A/N:
*ducks head* Yes, you're right, Aragorn _was_ behaving kind of stupid, I'll give you that. But - once again - he wasn't really thinking clearly because he was still so angry about the attack on Legolas and all that nearly-drowning-bit and so on - so anger does that to you... *g*
Besides: Let's face it, it was a wonderful pretence for some Estel torture, wasn't it?
That being the word of the day, I have to announce that this chapter is starting the part of the story for which the whole thing has been rated PG-13, so if you're younger than 13 *gives everybody stern looks* you should leave, now, or I will send my balrog after you. This is only the second torture scene I have ever written, and while it certainly won't be the last in this fic, I still have little experiece with this whole business, so if you think it should have a different rating (which I don't believe, so calm down - especially you, Lina! *g*), then please tell me and I will gladly change it.
Okay, so here we go, as mentioned we have a little bit of Estel torture (which I - contrary to popular belief - did NOT enjoy writing! I hate writing torture!), lots of Legolas angst, we meet some people of the 'third group' and find out who that mysterious girl is and what she wants. Plus, it's a cliffy, great, huh? *evil grin*
Enjoy and review, please! I need your opinion on the torture bits, I _really_ find that hard to write.
Chapter 11
"He did what?" Legolas all but yelled at the cowering servant that was very obviously wishing to be far, very far away from here and this elf that was attempting to bore holes into him with his eyes.
"I am sorry, Lord Legolas," the man said, risking a quick glance at the elf in front of him. Next to the elf stood the other one and the young Master Seobryn, who looked as if he was contemplating running away as well. "Mr. Strider told me to tell you that he would be back in a minute. He recognised someone outside, he said. That was a few minutes ago."
The fair haired elf hissed something in his native tongue that didn't sound complimentary at all, and the man used this opportunity to make a tactic retreat. He had delivered the ranger's message, and his duties did not include letting himself be ripped to pieces by his Master's guests.
Legolas looked at the sitting room door in which the unknown girl waited with Seveawen as company, obviously torn.
"Legolas?" Celylith questioned softly, but his voice was taut with tension. "There is something wrong, I can feel it. We need to see if he's alright."
"He is not," Legolas ground out between clenched teeth and quickly turned to look at Seobryn. "Tell her we will be there in ten minutes."
"Wait!" the young man called after the two departing elves. "What shall I tell her? Where are you going?"
The two fair beings did not answer, and Seobryn was left to stare after them, shaking his head in exasperation.
'Elves,' he thought as he turned back to the door, in truth not that disappointed that he had to spend some time alone with Seveawen and the strange girl. How Strider managed to stand them all the time was a mystery to him though. But then again, the ranger was so much of an elf himself that he probably didn't even notice their strangeness anymore.
At the front door, the two elves were just quickly grabbing their cloaks, when Celylith asked,
"He is not alright?"
"No," Legolas shook his head and opened the door, "No, he is not, I know it. But even if he were, he wouldn't be for long, because I am going to kill him for this foolishness once I find him. Going after someone alone in a town where every other man seems to want to kill us! Honestly, how he ever lived this long I will never understand."
The two elves quickly picked up the trail the young human had left behind and followed it over to the small, narrow catwalk that branched off the main bridge, the space overshadowed by towering houses on either side. In here it was pitch black, but their elven eyes had little trouble surveying their surroundings.
They had hardly taken more than a few steps into the alley when the tracks changed and a new set appeared, judging from the form and depth of the footprints that of a man who had apparently hidden himself in a small convexity on the right side. The tracks intermingled with each other, and the elves' faces darkened when they quickly saw that a fight had taken place. They took another two or three steps forwards, and suddenly Legolas gave a small cry and rushed forwards, dropping to his knees next to an object that was almost buried under a small snowdrift.
Celylith's mouth went dry when he recognised what it was that Legolas held in his hands: Aragorn's sword. He swallowed hard. There was no way the ranger had been leaving that sword behind just like that. During a watch the young man had once told him that the twins had given it to him on his twentieth birthday, the first real weapon of his own. Aragorn would never just leave one of his brothers' gifts behind.
He knelt down next to his prince, keen eyes studying the faint impressions that could be seen on the snow covered ground.
"Someone lay here," he told Legolas in a voice that sounded choked even to his own ears.
His eyes spied something else, close to the wall of the house in front of them, and he reached out to touch it. When he withdrew his hand, a dark crimson substance coloured his fingers an alarming red.
"Aragorn," Legolas whispered to his right, the prince's hands grasping his friend's discarded weapon so tightly that the white knuckles showed through the pale skin, silver-blue eyes staring unblinkingly at the red liquid that covered his elven friend's fingers. "They took him."
Celylith grimaced. How did Estel do this, he asked himself inwardly. He knew no other (except perhaps Legolas, of course) who managed to get himself into potentially lethal situations with such an amazing frequency.
"We don't know that," he tried to calm his friend. "Perhaps he followed them and the blood is not his."
"And then he left his sword behind?" Legolas asked incredulously, eyes huge and lifeless in his pale face, the abrasion on the side of his head contrasting starkly against the pallor of his skin. "He would never leave it behind, you know that."
"Aye, my lord," Celylith whispered and lowered his head. "I do know. But we can hope."
Legolas slowly got to his feet, grasping Aragorn's sword tightly to his chest.
"You are right, Celylith," he said, giving the other elf a strained smile. "You are just like Aragorn, always hoping. Your parents should have named you Estel as well."
"Nay, my friend," Celylith shook his head as he walked up to his prince, his eyes on the ground to look for any indication of a track that would lead them to their missing companion. "Nay, I prefer my own name. This way I won't get confused with a filthy human."
Legolas smiled again, his eyes lighting up shortly.
"That would be most tragic indeed." He turned serious again and nodded at the silver haired elf. "Let us find that filthy human then. I have some things I would very much like to discuss with him."
The other returned the nod, and together they made their way down the catwalk, trying to find out where their friend had disappeared to.
An hour later, two very annoyed, frustrated, anxious and wet elves returned to Owaeran's house, their expressions so dark and forbidding that every sensible person gave them a wide berth and didn't even think about asking them if they had found the ranger.
The answer to that question was as visible as if it had been etched into their foreheads: No, they hadn't found him.
They hadn't found a trace, had found nothing, absolutely nothing. To follow tracks in a city as busy and big as Lake-town was nearly impossible, as they had soon found out. Aragorn was gone and they had no idea where he had been taken.
Legolas just stood in the hallway, his head pounding, his ribs aching and his heart nearly breaking in his chest. He couldn't believe this, he just couldn't. Why was this always happening to him? Why couldn't he protect his friends? What was wrong with him?
A slender hand was placed on his shoulder.
"It is not your fault, Legolas," Celylith told him softly in Elvish. "You could not have known. We will find him. It won't end like the last time, I promise."
The elven prince just looked at him with vacant eyes before turning and purposefully making his way down the corridor and into the direction of Owaeran's study. Celylith followed silently, trying to banish Lord Elrond's face from his thoughts. O the Valar, what would the Lord of Imladris say if he heard that…
'No. Don't think of that,' he told himself quickly. 'Do not think of him. Or the twins, or Lord Glorfindel.'
Lord Glorfindel! Elbereth, he would have a balrog slayer out there for his blood…
They stopped shortly to ask a servant for directions, and the man led them to his Master's study, fervently avoiding eye contact with the two elves. Since Legolas seemed to be rather averse to civilised conversation, Celylith thanked the man and dismissed him, and the servant disappeared out of their view so quickly that the silver haired elf could have sworn that he possessed some elven blood.
Legolas didn't even bother with knocking but simply opened the dark wooden door, causing a startled Owaeran to look up from his papers.
"Master Legolas!" he exclaimed. "And Master Celylith too! I didn't know you were back! Please, do come in!" He stood up and motioned the two elves to step closer, but frowned and narrowed his eyes when he saw the dark expressions on their faces. "What happened? Where is Mr. Strider?"
"Tell me about your competitor," Legolas demanded, apparently not even having heard what the man had said. "Tell me everything, where he has his warehouses, shops, things like that."
"Why?" Owaeran asked, confusion plain to see on his face. "Of course I will tell you, but what happened?"
Legolas finally seemed to snap out of the trance he had spent the past half-hour in, and the let himself sink onto one of the chairs in front of the trader's desk.
"Strider is gone."
"Gone?" the elderly man asked, running a hand through his greying hair with a nervous move. "What do you mean, gone?"
"We think he was knocked unconscious and taken somewhere," Celylith explained before his friend could snap at the human. "We found his sword not far from here. There was a scuffle, we think, and he lost. We don't know where he has been taken."
"Great Ones," the trader mumbled and sank down heavily onto his chair as well. "I am so sorry, I did never mean for any of this to happen…"
"We know," Celylith assured the man, eyeing his elven friend warily whose fingers were beginning to twitch slightly with impatience and frustration. "Tell us where they could have taken him, and we will go and bring him back."
"You think my competitor and the 'Fox' are behind this?" Owaeran asked, his face pale.
"Who else?" Legolas asked tensely, glaring darkly at the man. Every second this human wasted with talking was one second more that Aragorn was in the hands of these people.
"I don't know," the trade admitted hopelessly. "How many men were involved?"
"Two or three," Legolas answered, exasperation beginning to colour his words. How could this be important? "They surprised him."
The man shook his head, a frown on his face.
"That doesn't sound like the 'Fox' at all. You have seen him, he likes to rely on brute strength. He wouldn't go anywhere near a ranger without at least five of his men."
"Well, apparently, he has," Legolas pointed out, his usually calm composure beginning to slowly but surely abandon him. "We won't help him if we keep stating the obvious. Where would they have taken him?"
Owaeran seemed to think hard for a second.
"He has a few warehouses on the southern islands," he finally stated. "They are quite isolated, and the only places I can think of that would serve for such a thing. You can recognise them by signs with crossed swords on them. It's his crest."
"Very well," the elven prince said and rose to his feet. "We will be back in a few hours."
He turned and walked out of the door, Celylith on his heels. Owaeran looked after them a few speechless seconds before he rushed after them.
"Wait! My lords, you cannot just walk in there! This is folly!"
Legolas stopped and turned, fixing burning silver-blue eyes on the man.
"Perhaps," he nodded. "Perhaps you're right and it is folly. But I will not leave my friend in the hands of such … men so they can do whatever they want to him! I – will – not! Not again."
Owaeran frowned in confusion. Why 'again'? The look on the prince's face however stopped all questions he might have asked in the very beginning. He shook his head and hurried after the two elves who had taken up their walk again, deciding in a split second to charge King Thranduil double the next time he did business with him. These elves were taking years off his life.
"Please, my lord, wait! I have a few men of my own who are able with a blade. We would accompany you. Wait but an hour and I will have a dozen men here!"
"An hour?" Legolas asked, already throwing his cloak over his shoulders. "An hour is far too long, Master Owaeran. It is an hour Strider does not have."
The trader stared at the fair haired elf, cursing inwardly. There was no doubt that this one was the woodking's son, he thought dryly, he was just as stubborn…
A soft voice behind them spared the trader an answer.
"Excuse me, Master Owaeran, sirs, but the lady is still waiting," Seobryn stated, making a nervous gesture behind him where two girls stood. One of them was Seveawen, Owaeran's blonde daughter, the other a young woman of about twenty years of age. She wasn't exactly a beauty, but there was something definitely appealing in her candid face and brown eyes.
Legolas gave a small bow, one hand already on the door handle.
"I am sorry, my lady, but we have urgent business to attend to. If you would perhaps give us an address where we can find you, and we will gladly visit you tomorrow. I am sure Master Owaeran will provide you with an escort home."
The girl swallowed, eyes filled with awe at the two fair beings in front of her.
"I am sorry, Master Elf," she said bravely, lifting her chin, "But it is very important that I speak to you. It is about…"
The fair haired elf gave an impatient shake of his head. Why was he stuck here with the only humans that apparently didn't understand that he needed to leave, now? He would not leave Aragorn to suffer from such ill treatment again, not for a second time in less than three months.
"As I said, we do not have time for this now. I am sorry. Master Owaeran, we will be back in a few hours, with Strider, if Elbereth smiles on us. The 'Fox's' luck will run out tonight."
He opened the door and was about to step out when the girl pressed forward, shoving Seobryn aside.
"He is not the one holding the ranger!" she all but yelled. "He has nothing to do with this! I heard them talking about it, 'tis what I have been trying to tell you the whole time…"
Legolas turned around slowly, eyes studying the young woman closely. He closed the door again and gave the girl a small nod.
"You have my undivided attention, lady."
A few minutes later, they were all gathered in the library, a rather large, dark room with countless shelves made of dark brown wood. Legolas didn't even attempt to sit down, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to sit still for more than three seconds.
When he was in this state of mind not even his father was able to make him sit still for longer than five seconds. Five were his record, actually.
Legolas walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames until the humans had settled down. Watching the dancing flames, he tried to calm his racing thoughts. If the 'Fox' hadn't ambushed Estel, then who had? Who else could be interested in them?
Forcefully regaining control over himself, he balled his hands into tight fists and turned around. Owaeran, Seveawen and Misien who had joined them as well sat on the one side of the library, Seobryn and Celylith more to the left and the unknown girl somewhat in the middle, almost disappearing in a large stuffy armchair.
After a few minutes of silence she lifted her head, fear and pain visible in her eyes, but those emotions were overshadowed by something else: A fierce determination, a determination that apparently gave her the strength to open her mouth and speak.
"I am so very sorry for all of this," she finally said, casting her eyes to the floor once more. "I don't even know where to start."
"Your name would be a good point, dear," Misien said softly, giving her a small smile.
The girl looked up again with wide eyes that reminded Legolas somewhat of a trapped animal.
"Nyssa," she said softly, "My name is Nyssa. I work as a chambermaid in the inn next to the "Empty Tankard" in the northern part of the town."
The two elves traded a quick look. The "Empty Tankard", the tavern the 'Fox' frequented according to Tellyn, the man who worked at the docks. This was more than a coincidence.
"Please, lady," Legolas said, trying hard to get his anxiety and impatience under control, "Tell me who has taken my friend if it wasn't 'the Fox'."
Nyssa took a look at the fair haired elf that stood in front of the fire and gave her a look so intense with worry and emotional turmoil that she had to avert her eyes after a heartbeat or two.
"As I said," she said tonelessly, "I work as a chambermaid in the inn. The 'Fox' and his men are there often as well, and I hear what they're talking about. Yesterday night they came to the tavern, battered and cursing, and talked about two elves and a man that had to be a ranger who had escaped them. They were very angry that their employer had forbidden them to go after them again." She looked at Celylith and Legolas. "After you."
"They could have done so anyway," Owaeran said, his eyes hard. "These are vengeful people, and if they think their 'honour' to be in question, I have no doubt that they would disobey any order."
Legolas nodded in agreement. That was exactly what he was thinking, everything else didn't make sense. Who else would want to capture Aragorn?
"But it is not so," the girl insisted, her voice rising for the first time. "There is more."
"Yes?" Celylith prompted as gently as possible.
"Today I overheard a conversation while I was serving in the tavern. Sometimes I do that, when a barmaid takes ill or something like that. I was just returning to the kitchens with some plates when I passed a table that is hidden behind a partition wall made of wood. It looks like a solid wall, but it isn't, and so I was able to hear what two men I have never seen before were saying on my way to the kitchens. They were talking about, what were their words … yes, 'snatching' one of you and then 'persuading' this person to tell them why you were here and why the Elvenking was interested in this."
Legolas frowned, eyes burning with fury. How dare these people…
"Why did you listen to them in the first place?" Celylith asked, appearing a lot calmer than he actually was.
Nyssa lowered her head, her voice almost inaudible when she answered.
"I recognised a name."
"Which name, dear?" Misien asked kindly, but her face was serious.
The younger woman took a deep breath.
"Drabo," she finally whispered. "They talked about how they had killed him and thrown him into the lake." She looked up and met their shocked glances evenly. "He was my ... lover, for a lack of better term, and while he never promised to marry me, I still loved him. I will not let them get away with this. I want to see them pay for what they've done to him, to us."
Legolas leaned back against the mantelpiece, trying to organise his thoughts. So Aragorn had been right and there was a third group at work here, and by the looks of it, a brutal, ruthless group that stopped at nothing to attain their goals.
'Dear Elbereth, why does this always happen to us?'
"So there are three groups that apparently want the same thing," Owaeran mused absent-mindedly. "My brother and his friends, Drabo being one of them, my competitor and the 'Fox', and these people."
"Drabo probably told his friend the 'Fox' something he shouldn't have, and now he and his men are after it as well," Celylith agreed, nodding in thought. "And somehow the third group found out that he knew something and…"
The silver haired elf didn't finish the sentence, shooting the girl that was looking at her hands again a pitiful look.
"But what is this all about?" Seobryn asked, obviously more than a little bit confused.
"I don't know," Legolas said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor, studying the dark wooden boards. "We will ask the 'Fox', but that can wait."
He looked up, and the humans almost shrunk away from the emotions that swirled in the elf's silver-blue eyes.
"Tell me, Nyssa," he said, turning to the girl, "Tell me where they have taken the ranger. We will not let them get away with another murder, I promise you that."
The young woman nodded, her eyes dark and sad.
"I know, Master Elf. That is why I came; I do not want to see another man die because of what Drabo was involved in. I do not know exactly where they are, but I will tell you all I know."
She began to speak, and half an hour later a group of eight people left the house and quickly made their way South-West.
Slowly, ever so slowly Aragorn's consciousness decided to grace his body with its presence once more, but that wasn't something the young ranger was particularly happy about because he had learnt something.
Even though several people, most prominently his brothers, claimed that he was too thick-headed to actually learn, it was not true.
If he had learnt anything at all in the past two years, it was that when you were feeling as if a middle sized mountain had fallen on you, then you had been dug out by a horde of teryg and been beaten with an ugly stick before they decided to sit on your head, you didn't want to wake up properly.
It took him several seconds to remember the Westron word for teryg. It was always a sign that he had suffered a bad blow to the head if he couldn't remember the Common equivalents to Elvish words.
But no, he decided, it was always better to remain in the realm of unconsciousness than to return to reality to actually meet the people who were responsible for you current condition, Aragorn decided fuzzily and tried to drift back into darkness, but he wasn't able to lose consciousness again, a fact that greatly annoyed him.
'Helmet,' another thought drifted through his befuddled brain, 'I should have listened to Elrohir and worn a helmet.'
While they had been escorting his brothers and father westwards on the day they had left, Elrohir had suggested that Aragorn wore an iron helmet to prevent him from getting knocked unconscious all the time. At that time, he had only scowled at his laughing elven brother, but right now that his head felt as if someone had chopped it into tiny little pieces and had reassembled it not entirely the correct way, he was seriously regretting not having listened to his older brother.
"He's awake," a far too loud voice to his right said, and a hand roughly grasped his chin and pulled his head up. That movement served to chase away the last cloudy shreds of unconsciousness, but the blinding pain in his head only intensified.
Aragorn had to bite back a moan. Whoever these men were, they definitely hadn't much experience with knocking people unconscious. If they weren't a bit more careful, he would pass out again before he had even properly woken up.
'Of course they haven't,' a voice in his head told him, 'They probably don't bother knocking people unconscious so often. Killing is usually a lot easier.'
Thanking the part of his brain that had provided that useful little information and enabled him to view his current situation in such an encouraging light, he struggled to open his eyes as he tried to determine where exactly he was.
While he was still attempting to persuade his eyelids that opening wouldn't aggravate his aching head – which was a lie, and both he and his eyelids knew that – he found out that he was lying on something hard and cold, that his cloak had apparently been taken from him, just as his weapons, he suspected, and that his hands were bound behind his back. His shirt seemed to be open, probably after someone had searched him for weapons.
Panic started to wrap itself around his heart. Not again, he thought wildly, please, he couldn't do all this again, not so soon…
He forced himself to take slow, even breaths. Panic wouldn't help him now, he needed to focus if he wanted to get out of here. Besides, it wouldn't be like the last time, Donyc was dead, Legolas had killed him, he was dead, dead, dead…
Finally the young man managed to pry his eyes open, and after a few moments during which Aragorn could have sworn that his brain tried to force its way through his forehead, the world slowly swam into focus and he looked at a … boot?
He blinked twice, yes, it was definitely a boot. Suddenly, two hands appeared and grasped the front of his tunic, dragging him up and to his feet. This time he couldn't suppress a small moan of pain as his head protested violently against such quick movements and he hurriedly closed his eyes, silently counting to ten as he waited for the nausea to die down. Again a hand grasped his chin, and he opened his eyes again to glare at the blonde man he had seen on the catwalk earlier today – it was still the the same day, wasn't it?
Aragorn quickly looked around the dark room, deciding in an instant that he was in an abandoned warehouse or factory or something like that. Somewhere close by he could hear softly lapping water, but that could be heard virtually everywhere in Lake-town. But judging by the inky darkness, it was really the same evening, for he really did not think that he had been unconscious for more than eighteen hours.
The man grinned at him, and the person that stood behind him and was keeping him upright tightened his grip on him.
"Woken up, ranger?" he asked pleasantly, and Aragorn resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment that just couldn't be conducive to his current situation.
He swallowed twice and asked, as strongly as he could,
"What do you want? Who are you? I do not know you."
The man began to grin even more broadly, sending a shiver of fear down the younger human's back. This was not good, not good at all…
"No, you wouldn't," he answered, stepping a bit closer to his captive. "My name is Lomar, not that it'd matter to you anyway. But we know a bit about you, my friend. For example that you keep company with elves and that you are entirely too interested in the good Master Gwemyr, the 'Fox' and their activities. And there, boy, lies the problem."
Aragorn just stared at the man, his mind reeling. So this wasn't one of the 'Fox's' men? Then who was he?
"Why are you interested in what I do and whose company I keep?" he asked icily, narrowing his eyes at the man.
"Oh," the older human chuckled, "We are interested in many things. Especially in these though. So, ranger, why don't you answer a few simple questions first? What do you know? More importantly, what do your elven friends know? What are you doing here? Who talked to you?"
The young ranger gave him a confused look. Even if he had felt any inclination to answer these questions, which he didn't, by the way, he had no idea what he should tell the man.
"Know?" he asked, trying to stall. "What do you mean? We are merely looking for Gwem…"
While he was still talking, Lomar had simply given him a lenient smile and had nodded at someone to Aragorn's right. Before the young man had even time to turn his head, a fist came out of nowhere and connected with his midsection, driving all the air out of his lungs.
The only thing that prevented him from falling to the ground were the arms that still gripped his shoulders, and so he hung limply in the man's grip, gasping for air. A detached part of his brain noted that there were at least three men here then, but right now he was far too busy trying to breathe to really care. After a few seconds the blonde man stepped closer again, the annoying smile still on his face.
"That was not a very clever idea, ranger," he said evenly, looking at his captive's pale face. "I ask again, who has talked to you?"
Aragorn simply closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, and therefore didn't see the next blow coming that connected with a sickening crack with the side of his chest. The young ranger groaned softly and tried to curl himself up, but the hands that held him prevented any such action.
After a moment a hand grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, and Aragorn decided to ask someone very wise in the near future why people delighted in doing that after knocking him on the head without obvious reason. Perhaps his father or the Lady Galadriel. Even Glorfindel might know.
The man looked at him with amusement in his eyes.
"You should reconsider your attitude, boy," he said, pulling the dark head up a bit more. "Stubbornness will get you nowhere, and I assure you that we can go on like this forever. And believe me, we will have a lot more fun than you."
Aragorn shook his head when the man released his hair and winced as pain flared to life in his skull.
"We didn't talk to anyone."
The man in front of him only smiled and nodded at the invisible man behind and to the right of him, and another blow hit him in the side, making him expel what little air he had managed to gather.
This went on for quite some time, perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, although it felt definitely a lot longer to the young ranger. It soon became a kind of routine: Lomar would ask a question, Aragorn would shake his head and a fist would connect with his torso or face. In fact, once that he knew what to expect, Aragorn did his best to roll with the force of the blows and to somehow deflect them, with mediocre success however since the man behind him held him tightly.
All in all, it wasn't the worst beating he had ever been through, but still, the sooner he could make them knock him a little too hard on the head so he could lose consciousness again and escape the pain, the better. All this only served to bring back memories he would rather forget.
A blow to his already wounded temple brought him close to that goal, and while he was teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, he felt the hands release him and he fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, unable to break his fall.
The blonde man gave the semi-conscious ranger an emotionless look.
"This is taking too long," he told the man that had been holding the captive in place. "He won't break as easily as the late Drabo, I fear. I think you should go now and inform the captain."
The other man nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the young human.
"I think you're right. It's apparently true what they say about rangers." He shot the other two men that were leaning against the wall close to their captive a quick glance. "Will you be alright?"
His companion nodded curtly.
"We have paid them well, they will do as I ask. You need to inform Adruran of the elves, there could be some on their way to them already. Once I have found out what he knows I will follow you."
The other man returned the nod.
"Have fun then," he said with an evil smile and made his way over to the back door, soundlessly disappearing into the night.
Lomar watched his companion leave and turned back to the figure on the floor. Even though his captain did not really approve of things like this, he still liked it. The power, that was what it was all about. He really, really liked that feeling.
This was going to be interesting; he was really curious how long a ranger would last. They were a lot harder to kill – or break – than other humans, or so he had heard…
He gave the two other a sign and they bent down and dragged the dark haired man to his feet. He was obviously regaining his senses now, for he lifted his head and pierced his captor with a fierce stare that reached right into the other man's heart. The blonde man hesitated a moment. He had never before seen a human with such silver eyes, and if he hadn't known better he would have thought an icy shudder had raced down his back…
He shook his head quickly and mentally berated himself for his thoughts. Why would he be afraid of a single bound man? This one was neither in the condition nor in the position to harm him; it wasn't as if he was part elf or something…
The man stepped closer and grabbed the ranger's upper arm, raising an eyebrow when he saw pain flash across the other's face.
"Well, ranger, my friend had to leave, but do not concern yourself with that. We have other things to do."
He tightened his grip on the younger man and dragged him across the room, turning shortly to look at one of the men.
"You stay here at the door to make sure we don't get any visitors."
The man nodded and settled down close to the door, his sword lying across his lap.
The other two men proceeded in dragging Aragorn further into the warehouse, making the young man wonder not for the first time what it was about him that attracted such situations. He just couldn't understand why every other person insisted on knocking him around, he mused and suppressed a moan when the blonde man gripped his injured upper arm more tightly. Finally, they stopped, and he looked up, only to instantly wish that he hadn't.
In front of him were two large pipes that ran across the whole length of the room they had just entered, approximately two feet in diameter and cutting through the room at a height of about five feet. This was apparently not only a warehouse, but some sort of abandoned factory as well, he thought.
While he was usually not very frightened by pipes of any kind, these ones were slightly different. They were made of copper and had once probably gleamed in the lights of the now dark lamps that hung below the ceiling, but now they were dark, dusty, rather dirty and … leaking.
Had they been filled with water or something like that Aragorn would have thought this fact to be cause of little alarm, but these pipes obviously carried hot steam from one part of the building to the next. Aragorn suspected that they just ran through the entire length of the building and that the steam was in fact still used in one of the building on either side of this one. The young ranger gulped silently. There were several rather large tears in the metal pipes, and hot steam was escaping with a sizzling noise in a constant stream.
Lomar grinned and dragged his captive closer to the pipes.
"Have you ever burnt yourself while boiling water?" he asked the dark haired ranger with an evil grin. "It's amazing how much something like steam can hurt, isn't it?"
Aragorn didn't answer, eyes fixed on the pipes. Of course he had burned himself as a child, just like most youngsters did, be they elven, human, hobbit or otherwise. But since he, as Elrond still claimed smiling, never did anything halfway, he had not only burnt his fingers, but his entire right arm, almost giving the cook who had beeen supervising him a heart attack, something which the elf still hadn't forgiven him.
Only with his father's skill had the burns healed without leaving permanent marks, and he could still remember how much they had hurt. He quickly pushed down theses memories again. He would not think of that now, he would not…
Suddenly, Donyc's face appeared in his mind's eye, sneering at him as the human commander that had captured him a few months ago had done so often. Dark memories of pain and fear and helplessness resurfaced, and he felt his panic go up yet another notch. Elbereth, it was happening again, just like the last time, and he was once again powerless to do anything…
He was trying to resist, but the two men dragged him ever closed to the broken pipes. What kind of normal person saw a steaming pipe and remembered to use it for torturing someone later, he thought to himself, trying to keep his mind off his predicament. That was nothing less than sick.
'O Ilúvatar,' he thought desperately, 'Legolas, now would be a good time indeed for a dramatic entrance, mellonamin…'
They had stopped in front of the largest rip now, and Aragorn absent-mindedly studied the bent metal, wondering what had caused the gash. It wasn't such a bad damage, the smith in Rivendell would be able to repair that in a second…
"Last chance, ranger," Lomar said, gripping one of the younger man's bound arms tightly. "Tell me who has sent you here, and we will continue this conversation somewhere else."
A numbing hopelessness spread through the young human. There was nothing he could say that would satisfy this man, he realised. He didn't know anything he could tell him, even if he had wanted to.
"No-one," he shook his head exhaustedly. "No-one sent us. I do not even know what you're talking about."
The man gave a sound of mock dismay and shook his head, and before Aragorn had time to prepare himself for what was to come, two pairs of hands gripped his arms tightly and pushed him forwards.
The only thing he thought in the split second between entering the incredible heat and the beginning of the pain was that this must be what crayfish had to feel like when being cooked. He and his elven brothers quite often searched the banks of the Bruinen for those savoury little animals, and as a child he had always tried to find more than Elladan or Elrohir. Up until now, however, he had been unable to imagine what being thrown into a pot of boiling water felt like.
In a matter of seconds that changed though. The steam discharged diagonally from right to left, and so only his left side got caught in the heat, something which was more than enough, he though.
Aragorn couldn't stifle a cry when the sharp, biting pain washed over him, and even though he still wore his shirt, it felt as thought every single cell of the left side of his body was slowly being consumed by a searing heat. His body trembled and jerked and instinctively tried to pull back from the heat, but the hands in his back wouldn't let him, and so he was forced to remain standing in the steam, unable to escape the nauseating pain that was beginning to define his entire existence.
Just when he thought that the Valar had finally shown mercy and granted him unconsciousness, he was pulled back and almost collapsed against his captors. Aragorn just kept his eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths past clenched teeth as he was trying to master the pain. Elbereth, this hurt so much more than he had remembered…
The blonde man stepped slightly to the side so he could see the ranger's face whose back was now to the pipes.
"Not convinced yet, boy?" he asked, amusement and something like grudging respect in his voice. He reached out and pulled the shirt aside, revealing red skin where the first blisters were already begin to form.
He shook his head as he let the shirt fall back into place and reached out to grab the younger man's chin again.
"Look at me, ranger," he demanded, and to his surprise the young man really opened his eyes, still giving him a fiery glare.
Lomar stepped back and raised an eyebrow.
"Do we have to repeat this? We can do this all night long if you want to," he said, looking for a sign of fear in the silver eyes, but if the flash he could briefly see was fear, then it was gone before he could really identify it.
He traced a finger over the developing burns and raised the other brow as his captive's body stiffened under the painful touch and he tried to pull away.
"Why do you do this?" he asked, finger still moving over the burns, "Is it because you want to protect the elves? Is that it?" He shook his head in disdain, giving the pain-filled face in front of him a disapproving glance. "They are not even of your kind, ranger, so why even bother?"
He stepped a bit closer and hissed,
"See? Where are they, your elves? Are they coming to rescue you? Why aren't they here?"
Aragorn didn't even acknowledge his presence, and the other man stepped even closer, running his finger over a particularly nasty looking burn and giving a humourless smile when the younger man moaned softly in pain.
"If I can't stand one thing, it is elves," Lomar told him softly, burrowing his fingers in the abused flesh of the young ranger's chest. "I can't stand them, and I like those who try to be their friends even less. As if you could ever be friends with creatures such as them! All they are interested in are the stars, or trees, or flowers. They won't even have noticed that you are gone!"
He leaned forward a little until he was close to Aragorn's white face.
"You see? You are on your own, ranger. Where are they now, your friends, the elves?"
"Right behind you," a soft voice stated menacingly, and Lomar and the other man whirled around, only to lay eyes on the two angriest-looking elves they had ever seen.
TBC...
teryg (pl. of torog) - trolls
mellonamin - my friend
*ducks behind her pet balrog Stan* Don't kill me! He's still alive, that's something, isn't it? Besides, it wasn't all MY fault, a part of it was _Cathy's_ (*points accusingly*) idea! She made me do it! Besides: You like it, just admit it! *looks at slowly advancing reades* Uhm, guys, come on, it wasn't THAT bad, was it ... You are taking things too seriously ... HELP! *runs off to escape angry Aragorn fans*
*pokes head back in for a second* So, if you want the next part, review and I'll see what I can do! Please? Pretty please??
Additional A/N:
TrinityTheSheDevil - *looks at her carefully* You are insane, did I ever tell you that? But, see: Here's a whole chapter with Aragorn torture, just for you. 'Screaming like a man with a splinter in his foot'? You _are_ still kinda normal, aren't you? LOL, Estel's been rangernapped? You could say that, and the asnwer to your question is: A lot, and most of it rather uncomplimentary, I think... *g* So, now go back to staring at that poster, go on, shoo...
Coreinha - *hangs head in shame* Okay, I admit it, I need therapy. But will it make you happier to know that Celylith annd Legolas are going to get their fair share of owies as well? I am nothing if not fair, you know... *g* But I don't think I would be able to do a 12 step program - too many! Aren't there any with three or four?
Arwen-Evenstar - Great you liked the love poetry bit, it was a spontaneous thing. I hadn't planned it in the slightest. *innocently* You don't like cliffies? Why? THey are so much fun! *evil grin* Sorry, this is another one, there was nothing I could do - you know, my alter ego and all that... And you're right - eventually Legolas will be angry, once he is capable of thinking straight again - you know how mothering he can be... *g*
Salara - Wohoo! Zwei reviews, na wer haette denn das gedacht... Du hast uerigens recht, Nólad-Klone sind ueberaus vielseitig... *g* Das mit dem Umzug ist eigene Geschichte, lass uns doch einfach sagen, dass ich wieder ausziehe, wenn ich einen Nachmieter finden sollte. Ist alles eine sehr lange, komplizierte und dumme Geschichte. *rot werd* Schoen, dass du die Szene mochtest! Ich habe so eine beste Freundin, die mir zwar noch nicht beinahe-ertrunken ist, aber was nicht ist, kann ja noch werden... *g* Und ja, ich gebe zu, dass Aragorn extrem dumm gehandelt hat, aber so sind sie nun mal, die jungen Maenner... Und bitte, erwaehne NIE WIEDER Walter von der Vogelweide! Ich musste so eins seiner _daemlichen_ Gedichte auf Mittelhochdeutsch auswendig lernen - ein Kindheitstrauma! LOL, Galadriel asl Pin-up-Lady? Das ist gut ... scary, aber gut ... *g* Und hey! Celylith war nie ein instabiler Faktor! Pah... *geht grummelnd weg*
Seveawen/Miss Understood - Okay, now it's offcial: You're insane. You changed your NAME? That is definitely not normal, girl...*pats her back* Sure he loves you, hold on to that thought... Well, elves don't celebrate birthdays, they celebrate conception days, or so I've been told. But since that's the same (just a year later, since she-elves are pregnant for exactly a year), it doesn't really matter, does it... And yes, you DO need help. Urgently.
Leggylover03 - *blushes* Thank you! Well, I already have the idea for a third story, but it all depends on how much time I have, and it's never enough, believe me... *g* Calm down, the pain's coming, honestly, you are such an impatient bunch... *g*
Alex Mistress Squirrel - Okay, I have to admit that yours is one of the oddest screennames I have ever seen. That doesn't mean that I don't like it though... *g* Great you like this sequel, and don't worry, there ARE more chapters coming! Thanks for reviewing!
Alilacia - *evil grin* And yet _another_ cliffy! I am so evil, don't tell me! LOL at the booklet! That's a really funny idea! I can just imagine that... *g* *grabs the back of her shirt* NO! Don't tear Owaeran limb from limb, I still need him! Well, the tatoo, yes, there probably IS a tatoo market somewhere, and all the bad guys go there... *g* Great you liked the love poem bit, it was rather a spontaneous thing, I never planned it. It just ... happened, like so many other things around here... And about Celylith: Let's just say that nothing will happen to him _yet_, okay? we still have lots of time for that... *evil grin*
Mouse - Oh no, there will be bodies left ... or body parts ... whatever... *g* I'm glad you luke Celylith, I love him! *backs away quickly* Evee though he's Zam Kenobi's husband, of course...
Cheryl W - Hey! I do not 'always' have torture in story for our dear ranger! You have to confuse me with someone else... *Cheryl points at last story* Ah, just a coincidence, really... Great you like it, despite (or because of?) the cliffies and the character torture! Thanks for the review!
CrazyLOTRfan - 'Master of all things cliffy-like'? *evil grin* I like that! Thanks! *nods sadly* You're right, Aragorn's really beginning to make a habit out of being knocked unconscious - perhaps he needs therapy? No, I think _I_ need therapy... *g*
One15 - Na ja, ich meine, singen wir nicht alle mal Liebeslieder? Nein? Auch wahr, aber das hier ist Mittelerde, nech? Tja, das mit meiner MUse ist mir auch nicht ganz klar. Diese ganze Liebeslieder-fuer-Seveawen-Legolas-singt-selbst-Geschichte war absolout spontan. Kein bisschen geplant, das kam einfach so, wie die meistten der Scherze u.ae. hier. Ich weiss auch nicht, woher... *knuddelt One* Danke fuer die review!
Gwyn - I know, I know ... he's stupid, plain and simple... *g* Thanks for the review!
Anya - NO! You wouldn't! Give me to *gulps* the ... the ... the readers? No, please, I beg your mercy! That would be evil! Cruel and unusual punishment, that's what it would be! *shakes head* You people and your Estel torture... Tsk tsk tsk...
Asha Dreamweaver - *blushes furiously* Don't say that! You are giving me delusions of grandeur! But it sounds rather nicem thanks... *g* And yes, they really _can't_ stay out of trouble, can they? But hey, life would be very boring indeed for us FF-writers if they could, wouldn't it? LOL, I can just imagine it! They return to Mirkwood in several pieces, and Hithrawyn refuses to treat them... "No! It's your own fault! And now get out of my healing rooms and bleed somewhere else!" *g*
XsilicaX - I know you're probably not going to read this since you're away, but what the heck, I'm still writing it. Great you liked that Seobryn scene, he can be quite cute indeed... Well, here it is now, the chapter that is _entirely_ YOUR fault! *evil grin* Hope you like it though! Have lots of fun on your little trip and come back soon or I will miss you! *huggles her* Oh, and... *looks around her, then whispers* Michael Schumacher is a mentally retarded toad! Mhahahaha! *runs off*
Shadow Warrior - *nods sadly* Yes, it's been some time since last we met... *g* You like Aragorn torture then? Son't worry, there are LOTS of people like that here, so you're in good company... Well, he won't suffer from a second skull fracture, never fear, but there might be a tiny little concussion... *evil grin* I hope you'll like the rest as well, thanks for the review!
Critternut - Well, to be honest I've been drinking (just once in a while of course! *g*) since I was 15, and that's rather late. But there are laws nobody really observes, and that is one of them ... besides, nobody really cares... *g* Uhm, that did kinda sound as if I were an alcoholic, which I am not. Okay? *g* Well, yes, what happens to Aragorn? A lot, my friend, and none of it overly pleasant... *g*
Ciria - *huggles her baby orc* Thanks! It's adorable! Usually the dubbing here is quite good, but I've only read the books ib English and then the German terms (they even translater the names!) do sound very stupid... Of course Elrond is a better healer than Estel, but as you will remember, Rivendell is on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains, so he doesn't count. *giggles* No, Legolas is definitely _not_ innocent, but let us just ignore that, shall we? I hope you have lots of fun on your trip, and in August it may even be finished! You never know!
Cestari - Arwen? *chokes* Definitely not! I really like her, but she's in Lothlórien, and she will stay there. Besides, Seobryn knows the difference between a girl and a she-elf and would have told them if it were Arwen... Uhm, who, me? Give them a break? Come on, be honest with yourself: Do you want me to? *g*
Imbefaniel - *defensively* So what? My alter ego is quite nice, actually... Oh, yes, I think you could already start painting the 'Get well soon card'... He'll need it! LOL, put Aragorn on a leash? That's definitely a good idea... *g*
Stacee Phelps - So you like Aragorn angst? Yes? Good, then this is the fic for you, 'cause there's much more to come.. *evil cackle* And I agree, he's kinda stupid, but then again, so are most men his age... *dark glare* Thanks for the review!
Elladan - Hey! Nice to see you again! *huggles Elladan* Uhm, you'd better not tell the men in the white coats about this cliffy then ... I like this one very much ... am very proud of it... *pats Elladan's back* Don't worry! We're all insane here, welcome to the club! Thank you so much for all your kind words!
Alexa - *nods* Yes, he is ... an idiot, I mean... And I think Legolas will be so happy to get the idiot back more or less in one piece that he will spare him most of the lecture. Uhm, about the growth thing: I guess you're right, kinda, 'cause I just realised it the second you told me. I hadn't planned that, it just happened. *shrugs* Such things happen all the time here... And don't worry, I won't kill Celylith - I think. Not yet, anyway... *g*
Lina - *shakes head* Éomer and his Rohirrim aren't very good at tracking, are they? If they can't even find your tracks before you find the post... Pathetic, that's what it is... *g* 'Do not disrespect the sexiness of the ranger'? Uhm, Lina, I think you're losing it here, calm down... LOL, Lego-tard? How true... Eeek! *runs after Lina to escape angry Legolas fans* Uhm, you kinda lost me there, Lina. Why is that cliffy Seobryn's fault? He didn't do anything! And before you read this chapter, remember: This is not real. No rangers were harmed in the process of writing this fic. Really. *pointed look at Éomer* Stay.Calm. Don't kill me. Calm. Okay?
Marbienl - Yup, I guess he was too exhausted to dream. Good thing too. Oh yes, my friend. It can _always_ get worse, and usually, it does. Just read on and you'll see what I mean... And no, you may NOT claim Estel. Celylith is my character, Estel's Tolkien's. Sad facts, I know, but true nonetheless. *sighs and pulls her back* DON'T slap Legolas, okay? Just remember: He and Celylith have to rescue Estel in the end. If you slap him senseless, Aragorn will die and it will be your fault. Okay? Uhm, and I think I'll keep Wilwarin, I might still need her. You never know... But your spider sounds nice enough... No, the amputate-the-arm-bit was when they ran into the hill trolls half a year ago, something I mentioned in AEFAE. Perhaps I'm going to write a prequel one of these days... I hope you'll enjoy the chapter! Somehow, I have not the slightest doubt that you will... *g*
Zam - *backs away* SURE he is yours! *thrusts Celylith into Zam's arms and runs* Live long and prosper! LOL, you have a tatto saying _that_? You may even be crazier than I thought, and that's not easy to begin with... You really like the voices, huh? Well, I have them as well, and believe me, they are just like that! LOL at the Elrond scenes! I can just imagine that! But I'm sure he would get out of it with the help of a good lawyer... *grabs Zan's shirt* How many times have I told you, Do Not Rape My Characters? Really, Lina should put a leash on you! Orc horde: Lina????? Nili: Oh, forget I said anything. Well, I know what Scooby Doo is, but I always thought that it was stupid, even as a child. So I've never watched it, or the movie. *shudders*
NaughtyNat - Well, it's not exactly _about_ the dreams, it's more or less about what will give him dreams in the future... *evil grin* Great you like it so much, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well - which you should, if you like Estel torture, that is...
E - *nods* He IS stupid. Very very very very stupid, I admit that. And I wouldn't worry about Legolas killing Estel, there are other people giving that a try right now... *gulps* You will ... look at me? All the time? That is not good! *hastily* See? See? Chapter's here! *mutters* 'Big E is watching you', huh?
Fliewatuet - LOL, you could say that! That elf gains fan girls wherever he goes! Yeah well, Celylith did indeed enjoy the little argument, but then agian, watching two so incredibly stubborn people quarrel can be quite funny! Uhm, define 'dark', please?! You should know me well enough to know that it never looks hopeless-dark, only temporaray-rather-dark, if you see what I mean? Well, the update is due, uhm, now? That soon enough? *g*
Elenora - *blushes until she resembles a beetroot* Stop that! You will give me delusions of grandeur! But ... awwww!! *huggles Elenora* Thank you! All your wonderful compliments really made my day which hasn't been so good - and it's only 11 pm! It can still get worse! I just got this review virtually a second before I wanted to post, so it's lucky I was able to read it before that fateful moment... I usually try to update every four to five days, right now every four if FF.net co-operates which it doesn't quite often lately. I don't know how much longer I can keep that up since exams are coming ever closer, but we'll see... *g* Celylith is pronounced, well, like Kelylith? With a K and th; all Sindarin words that start with 'C' are pronounced like 'K', just like Celebrimbor, Celeborn etc. Well, about Legolas recovering too quickly: He's an elf and it was only a little bit of cold water? *evil grin* Really, it wasn't THAT bad ... but you'll see, he's not completely well again, sometime next chapter ... or was it the one after the next? *shrugs* I'm getting old... *g* And English isn't my first language, and strictly speaking it isn't my second either since I started with Latin and started to learn English when I was 12 - so that's 8 years ago now... Thanks for your compliments though, and if you want to know, German is my first language. *shrugs* Nothing I can do about that, I fear... I really hope your migraines have gone wherever migraines go when you wish them to hell, thanks SO much for the huge wonderful review! And see? A new chapter's already here, you're SO lucky! *g*
*sighs* Nothing's better than reviews, and if there is, I have yet to find it. Which I won't, because there isn't. I am not making any sense, am I? Ah well, whatever, humans apparently DO need more than four hours sleep a night...
A/N:
*ducks head* Yes, you're right, Aragorn _was_ behaving kind of stupid, I'll give you that. But - once again - he wasn't really thinking clearly because he was still so angry about the attack on Legolas and all that nearly-drowning-bit and so on - so anger does that to you... *g*
Besides: Let's face it, it was a wonderful pretence for some Estel torture, wasn't it?
That being the word of the day, I have to announce that this chapter is starting the part of the story for which the whole thing has been rated PG-13, so if you're younger than 13 *gives everybody stern looks* you should leave, now, or I will send my balrog after you. This is only the second torture scene I have ever written, and while it certainly won't be the last in this fic, I still have little experiece with this whole business, so if you think it should have a different rating (which I don't believe, so calm down - especially you, Lina! *g*), then please tell me and I will gladly change it.
Okay, so here we go, as mentioned we have a little bit of Estel torture (which I - contrary to popular belief - did NOT enjoy writing! I hate writing torture!), lots of Legolas angst, we meet some people of the 'third group' and find out who that mysterious girl is and what she wants. Plus, it's a cliffy, great, huh? *evil grin*
Enjoy and review, please! I need your opinion on the torture bits, I _really_ find that hard to write.
Chapter 11
"He did what?" Legolas all but yelled at the cowering servant that was very obviously wishing to be far, very far away from here and this elf that was attempting to bore holes into him with his eyes.
"I am sorry, Lord Legolas," the man said, risking a quick glance at the elf in front of him. Next to the elf stood the other one and the young Master Seobryn, who looked as if he was contemplating running away as well. "Mr. Strider told me to tell you that he would be back in a minute. He recognised someone outside, he said. That was a few minutes ago."
The fair haired elf hissed something in his native tongue that didn't sound complimentary at all, and the man used this opportunity to make a tactic retreat. He had delivered the ranger's message, and his duties did not include letting himself be ripped to pieces by his Master's guests.
Legolas looked at the sitting room door in which the unknown girl waited with Seveawen as company, obviously torn.
"Legolas?" Celylith questioned softly, but his voice was taut with tension. "There is something wrong, I can feel it. We need to see if he's alright."
"He is not," Legolas ground out between clenched teeth and quickly turned to look at Seobryn. "Tell her we will be there in ten minutes."
"Wait!" the young man called after the two departing elves. "What shall I tell her? Where are you going?"
The two fair beings did not answer, and Seobryn was left to stare after them, shaking his head in exasperation.
'Elves,' he thought as he turned back to the door, in truth not that disappointed that he had to spend some time alone with Seveawen and the strange girl. How Strider managed to stand them all the time was a mystery to him though. But then again, the ranger was so much of an elf himself that he probably didn't even notice their strangeness anymore.
At the front door, the two elves were just quickly grabbing their cloaks, when Celylith asked,
"He is not alright?"
"No," Legolas shook his head and opened the door, "No, he is not, I know it. But even if he were, he wouldn't be for long, because I am going to kill him for this foolishness once I find him. Going after someone alone in a town where every other man seems to want to kill us! Honestly, how he ever lived this long I will never understand."
The two elves quickly picked up the trail the young human had left behind and followed it over to the small, narrow catwalk that branched off the main bridge, the space overshadowed by towering houses on either side. In here it was pitch black, but their elven eyes had little trouble surveying their surroundings.
They had hardly taken more than a few steps into the alley when the tracks changed and a new set appeared, judging from the form and depth of the footprints that of a man who had apparently hidden himself in a small convexity on the right side. The tracks intermingled with each other, and the elves' faces darkened when they quickly saw that a fight had taken place. They took another two or three steps forwards, and suddenly Legolas gave a small cry and rushed forwards, dropping to his knees next to an object that was almost buried under a small snowdrift.
Celylith's mouth went dry when he recognised what it was that Legolas held in his hands: Aragorn's sword. He swallowed hard. There was no way the ranger had been leaving that sword behind just like that. During a watch the young man had once told him that the twins had given it to him on his twentieth birthday, the first real weapon of his own. Aragorn would never just leave one of his brothers' gifts behind.
He knelt down next to his prince, keen eyes studying the faint impressions that could be seen on the snow covered ground.
"Someone lay here," he told Legolas in a voice that sounded choked even to his own ears.
His eyes spied something else, close to the wall of the house in front of them, and he reached out to touch it. When he withdrew his hand, a dark crimson substance coloured his fingers an alarming red.
"Aragorn," Legolas whispered to his right, the prince's hands grasping his friend's discarded weapon so tightly that the white knuckles showed through the pale skin, silver-blue eyes staring unblinkingly at the red liquid that covered his elven friend's fingers. "They took him."
Celylith grimaced. How did Estel do this, he asked himself inwardly. He knew no other (except perhaps Legolas, of course) who managed to get himself into potentially lethal situations with such an amazing frequency.
"We don't know that," he tried to calm his friend. "Perhaps he followed them and the blood is not his."
"And then he left his sword behind?" Legolas asked incredulously, eyes huge and lifeless in his pale face, the abrasion on the side of his head contrasting starkly against the pallor of his skin. "He would never leave it behind, you know that."
"Aye, my lord," Celylith whispered and lowered his head. "I do know. But we can hope."
Legolas slowly got to his feet, grasping Aragorn's sword tightly to his chest.
"You are right, Celylith," he said, giving the other elf a strained smile. "You are just like Aragorn, always hoping. Your parents should have named you Estel as well."
"Nay, my friend," Celylith shook his head as he walked up to his prince, his eyes on the ground to look for any indication of a track that would lead them to their missing companion. "Nay, I prefer my own name. This way I won't get confused with a filthy human."
Legolas smiled again, his eyes lighting up shortly.
"That would be most tragic indeed." He turned serious again and nodded at the silver haired elf. "Let us find that filthy human then. I have some things I would very much like to discuss with him."
The other returned the nod, and together they made their way down the catwalk, trying to find out where their friend had disappeared to.
An hour later, two very annoyed, frustrated, anxious and wet elves returned to Owaeran's house, their expressions so dark and forbidding that every sensible person gave them a wide berth and didn't even think about asking them if they had found the ranger.
The answer to that question was as visible as if it had been etched into their foreheads: No, they hadn't found him.
They hadn't found a trace, had found nothing, absolutely nothing. To follow tracks in a city as busy and big as Lake-town was nearly impossible, as they had soon found out. Aragorn was gone and they had no idea where he had been taken.
Legolas just stood in the hallway, his head pounding, his ribs aching and his heart nearly breaking in his chest. He couldn't believe this, he just couldn't. Why was this always happening to him? Why couldn't he protect his friends? What was wrong with him?
A slender hand was placed on his shoulder.
"It is not your fault, Legolas," Celylith told him softly in Elvish. "You could not have known. We will find him. It won't end like the last time, I promise."
The elven prince just looked at him with vacant eyes before turning and purposefully making his way down the corridor and into the direction of Owaeran's study. Celylith followed silently, trying to banish Lord Elrond's face from his thoughts. O the Valar, what would the Lord of Imladris say if he heard that…
'No. Don't think of that,' he told himself quickly. 'Do not think of him. Or the twins, or Lord Glorfindel.'
Lord Glorfindel! Elbereth, he would have a balrog slayer out there for his blood…
They stopped shortly to ask a servant for directions, and the man led them to his Master's study, fervently avoiding eye contact with the two elves. Since Legolas seemed to be rather averse to civilised conversation, Celylith thanked the man and dismissed him, and the servant disappeared out of their view so quickly that the silver haired elf could have sworn that he possessed some elven blood.
Legolas didn't even bother with knocking but simply opened the dark wooden door, causing a startled Owaeran to look up from his papers.
"Master Legolas!" he exclaimed. "And Master Celylith too! I didn't know you were back! Please, do come in!" He stood up and motioned the two elves to step closer, but frowned and narrowed his eyes when he saw the dark expressions on their faces. "What happened? Where is Mr. Strider?"
"Tell me about your competitor," Legolas demanded, apparently not even having heard what the man had said. "Tell me everything, where he has his warehouses, shops, things like that."
"Why?" Owaeran asked, confusion plain to see on his face. "Of course I will tell you, but what happened?"
Legolas finally seemed to snap out of the trance he had spent the past half-hour in, and the let himself sink onto one of the chairs in front of the trader's desk.
"Strider is gone."
"Gone?" the elderly man asked, running a hand through his greying hair with a nervous move. "What do you mean, gone?"
"We think he was knocked unconscious and taken somewhere," Celylith explained before his friend could snap at the human. "We found his sword not far from here. There was a scuffle, we think, and he lost. We don't know where he has been taken."
"Great Ones," the trader mumbled and sank down heavily onto his chair as well. "I am so sorry, I did never mean for any of this to happen…"
"We know," Celylith assured the man, eyeing his elven friend warily whose fingers were beginning to twitch slightly with impatience and frustration. "Tell us where they could have taken him, and we will go and bring him back."
"You think my competitor and the 'Fox' are behind this?" Owaeran asked, his face pale.
"Who else?" Legolas asked tensely, glaring darkly at the man. Every second this human wasted with talking was one second more that Aragorn was in the hands of these people.
"I don't know," the trade admitted hopelessly. "How many men were involved?"
"Two or three," Legolas answered, exasperation beginning to colour his words. How could this be important? "They surprised him."
The man shook his head, a frown on his face.
"That doesn't sound like the 'Fox' at all. You have seen him, he likes to rely on brute strength. He wouldn't go anywhere near a ranger without at least five of his men."
"Well, apparently, he has," Legolas pointed out, his usually calm composure beginning to slowly but surely abandon him. "We won't help him if we keep stating the obvious. Where would they have taken him?"
Owaeran seemed to think hard for a second.
"He has a few warehouses on the southern islands," he finally stated. "They are quite isolated, and the only places I can think of that would serve for such a thing. You can recognise them by signs with crossed swords on them. It's his crest."
"Very well," the elven prince said and rose to his feet. "We will be back in a few hours."
He turned and walked out of the door, Celylith on his heels. Owaeran looked after them a few speechless seconds before he rushed after them.
"Wait! My lords, you cannot just walk in there! This is folly!"
Legolas stopped and turned, fixing burning silver-blue eyes on the man.
"Perhaps," he nodded. "Perhaps you're right and it is folly. But I will not leave my friend in the hands of such … men so they can do whatever they want to him! I – will – not! Not again."
Owaeran frowned in confusion. Why 'again'? The look on the prince's face however stopped all questions he might have asked in the very beginning. He shook his head and hurried after the two elves who had taken up their walk again, deciding in a split second to charge King Thranduil double the next time he did business with him. These elves were taking years off his life.
"Please, my lord, wait! I have a few men of my own who are able with a blade. We would accompany you. Wait but an hour and I will have a dozen men here!"
"An hour?" Legolas asked, already throwing his cloak over his shoulders. "An hour is far too long, Master Owaeran. It is an hour Strider does not have."
The trader stared at the fair haired elf, cursing inwardly. There was no doubt that this one was the woodking's son, he thought dryly, he was just as stubborn…
A soft voice behind them spared the trader an answer.
"Excuse me, Master Owaeran, sirs, but the lady is still waiting," Seobryn stated, making a nervous gesture behind him where two girls stood. One of them was Seveawen, Owaeran's blonde daughter, the other a young woman of about twenty years of age. She wasn't exactly a beauty, but there was something definitely appealing in her candid face and brown eyes.
Legolas gave a small bow, one hand already on the door handle.
"I am sorry, my lady, but we have urgent business to attend to. If you would perhaps give us an address where we can find you, and we will gladly visit you tomorrow. I am sure Master Owaeran will provide you with an escort home."
The girl swallowed, eyes filled with awe at the two fair beings in front of her.
"I am sorry, Master Elf," she said bravely, lifting her chin, "But it is very important that I speak to you. It is about…"
The fair haired elf gave an impatient shake of his head. Why was he stuck here with the only humans that apparently didn't understand that he needed to leave, now? He would not leave Aragorn to suffer from such ill treatment again, not for a second time in less than three months.
"As I said, we do not have time for this now. I am sorry. Master Owaeran, we will be back in a few hours, with Strider, if Elbereth smiles on us. The 'Fox's' luck will run out tonight."
He opened the door and was about to step out when the girl pressed forward, shoving Seobryn aside.
"He is not the one holding the ranger!" she all but yelled. "He has nothing to do with this! I heard them talking about it, 'tis what I have been trying to tell you the whole time…"
Legolas turned around slowly, eyes studying the young woman closely. He closed the door again and gave the girl a small nod.
"You have my undivided attention, lady."
A few minutes later, they were all gathered in the library, a rather large, dark room with countless shelves made of dark brown wood. Legolas didn't even attempt to sit down, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to sit still for more than three seconds.
When he was in this state of mind not even his father was able to make him sit still for longer than five seconds. Five were his record, actually.
Legolas walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames until the humans had settled down. Watching the dancing flames, he tried to calm his racing thoughts. If the 'Fox' hadn't ambushed Estel, then who had? Who else could be interested in them?
Forcefully regaining control over himself, he balled his hands into tight fists and turned around. Owaeran, Seveawen and Misien who had joined them as well sat on the one side of the library, Seobryn and Celylith more to the left and the unknown girl somewhat in the middle, almost disappearing in a large stuffy armchair.
After a few minutes of silence she lifted her head, fear and pain visible in her eyes, but those emotions were overshadowed by something else: A fierce determination, a determination that apparently gave her the strength to open her mouth and speak.
"I am so very sorry for all of this," she finally said, casting her eyes to the floor once more. "I don't even know where to start."
"Your name would be a good point, dear," Misien said softly, giving her a small smile.
The girl looked up again with wide eyes that reminded Legolas somewhat of a trapped animal.
"Nyssa," she said softly, "My name is Nyssa. I work as a chambermaid in the inn next to the "Empty Tankard" in the northern part of the town."
The two elves traded a quick look. The "Empty Tankard", the tavern the 'Fox' frequented according to Tellyn, the man who worked at the docks. This was more than a coincidence.
"Please, lady," Legolas said, trying hard to get his anxiety and impatience under control, "Tell me who has taken my friend if it wasn't 'the Fox'."
Nyssa took a look at the fair haired elf that stood in front of the fire and gave her a look so intense with worry and emotional turmoil that she had to avert her eyes after a heartbeat or two.
"As I said," she said tonelessly, "I work as a chambermaid in the inn. The 'Fox' and his men are there often as well, and I hear what they're talking about. Yesterday night they came to the tavern, battered and cursing, and talked about two elves and a man that had to be a ranger who had escaped them. They were very angry that their employer had forbidden them to go after them again." She looked at Celylith and Legolas. "After you."
"They could have done so anyway," Owaeran said, his eyes hard. "These are vengeful people, and if they think their 'honour' to be in question, I have no doubt that they would disobey any order."
Legolas nodded in agreement. That was exactly what he was thinking, everything else didn't make sense. Who else would want to capture Aragorn?
"But it is not so," the girl insisted, her voice rising for the first time. "There is more."
"Yes?" Celylith prompted as gently as possible.
"Today I overheard a conversation while I was serving in the tavern. Sometimes I do that, when a barmaid takes ill or something like that. I was just returning to the kitchens with some plates when I passed a table that is hidden behind a partition wall made of wood. It looks like a solid wall, but it isn't, and so I was able to hear what two men I have never seen before were saying on my way to the kitchens. They were talking about, what were their words … yes, 'snatching' one of you and then 'persuading' this person to tell them why you were here and why the Elvenking was interested in this."
Legolas frowned, eyes burning with fury. How dare these people…
"Why did you listen to them in the first place?" Celylith asked, appearing a lot calmer than he actually was.
Nyssa lowered her head, her voice almost inaudible when she answered.
"I recognised a name."
"Which name, dear?" Misien asked kindly, but her face was serious.
The younger woman took a deep breath.
"Drabo," she finally whispered. "They talked about how they had killed him and thrown him into the lake." She looked up and met their shocked glances evenly. "He was my ... lover, for a lack of better term, and while he never promised to marry me, I still loved him. I will not let them get away with this. I want to see them pay for what they've done to him, to us."
Legolas leaned back against the mantelpiece, trying to organise his thoughts. So Aragorn had been right and there was a third group at work here, and by the looks of it, a brutal, ruthless group that stopped at nothing to attain their goals.
'Dear Elbereth, why does this always happen to us?'
"So there are three groups that apparently want the same thing," Owaeran mused absent-mindedly. "My brother and his friends, Drabo being one of them, my competitor and the 'Fox', and these people."
"Drabo probably told his friend the 'Fox' something he shouldn't have, and now he and his men are after it as well," Celylith agreed, nodding in thought. "And somehow the third group found out that he knew something and…"
The silver haired elf didn't finish the sentence, shooting the girl that was looking at her hands again a pitiful look.
"But what is this all about?" Seobryn asked, obviously more than a little bit confused.
"I don't know," Legolas said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor, studying the dark wooden boards. "We will ask the 'Fox', but that can wait."
He looked up, and the humans almost shrunk away from the emotions that swirled in the elf's silver-blue eyes.
"Tell me, Nyssa," he said, turning to the girl, "Tell me where they have taken the ranger. We will not let them get away with another murder, I promise you that."
The young woman nodded, her eyes dark and sad.
"I know, Master Elf. That is why I came; I do not want to see another man die because of what Drabo was involved in. I do not know exactly where they are, but I will tell you all I know."
She began to speak, and half an hour later a group of eight people left the house and quickly made their way South-West.
Slowly, ever so slowly Aragorn's consciousness decided to grace his body with its presence once more, but that wasn't something the young ranger was particularly happy about because he had learnt something.
Even though several people, most prominently his brothers, claimed that he was too thick-headed to actually learn, it was not true.
If he had learnt anything at all in the past two years, it was that when you were feeling as if a middle sized mountain had fallen on you, then you had been dug out by a horde of teryg and been beaten with an ugly stick before they decided to sit on your head, you didn't want to wake up properly.
It took him several seconds to remember the Westron word for teryg. It was always a sign that he had suffered a bad blow to the head if he couldn't remember the Common equivalents to Elvish words.
But no, he decided, it was always better to remain in the realm of unconsciousness than to return to reality to actually meet the people who were responsible for you current condition, Aragorn decided fuzzily and tried to drift back into darkness, but he wasn't able to lose consciousness again, a fact that greatly annoyed him.
'Helmet,' another thought drifted through his befuddled brain, 'I should have listened to Elrohir and worn a helmet.'
While they had been escorting his brothers and father westwards on the day they had left, Elrohir had suggested that Aragorn wore an iron helmet to prevent him from getting knocked unconscious all the time. At that time, he had only scowled at his laughing elven brother, but right now that his head felt as if someone had chopped it into tiny little pieces and had reassembled it not entirely the correct way, he was seriously regretting not having listened to his older brother.
"He's awake," a far too loud voice to his right said, and a hand roughly grasped his chin and pulled his head up. That movement served to chase away the last cloudy shreds of unconsciousness, but the blinding pain in his head only intensified.
Aragorn had to bite back a moan. Whoever these men were, they definitely hadn't much experience with knocking people unconscious. If they weren't a bit more careful, he would pass out again before he had even properly woken up.
'Of course they haven't,' a voice in his head told him, 'They probably don't bother knocking people unconscious so often. Killing is usually a lot easier.'
Thanking the part of his brain that had provided that useful little information and enabled him to view his current situation in such an encouraging light, he struggled to open his eyes as he tried to determine where exactly he was.
While he was still attempting to persuade his eyelids that opening wouldn't aggravate his aching head – which was a lie, and both he and his eyelids knew that – he found out that he was lying on something hard and cold, that his cloak had apparently been taken from him, just as his weapons, he suspected, and that his hands were bound behind his back. His shirt seemed to be open, probably after someone had searched him for weapons.
Panic started to wrap itself around his heart. Not again, he thought wildly, please, he couldn't do all this again, not so soon…
He forced himself to take slow, even breaths. Panic wouldn't help him now, he needed to focus if he wanted to get out of here. Besides, it wouldn't be like the last time, Donyc was dead, Legolas had killed him, he was dead, dead, dead…
Finally the young man managed to pry his eyes open, and after a few moments during which Aragorn could have sworn that his brain tried to force its way through his forehead, the world slowly swam into focus and he looked at a … boot?
He blinked twice, yes, it was definitely a boot. Suddenly, two hands appeared and grasped the front of his tunic, dragging him up and to his feet. This time he couldn't suppress a small moan of pain as his head protested violently against such quick movements and he hurriedly closed his eyes, silently counting to ten as he waited for the nausea to die down. Again a hand grasped his chin, and he opened his eyes again to glare at the blonde man he had seen on the catwalk earlier today – it was still the the same day, wasn't it?
Aragorn quickly looked around the dark room, deciding in an instant that he was in an abandoned warehouse or factory or something like that. Somewhere close by he could hear softly lapping water, but that could be heard virtually everywhere in Lake-town. But judging by the inky darkness, it was really the same evening, for he really did not think that he had been unconscious for more than eighteen hours.
The man grinned at him, and the person that stood behind him and was keeping him upright tightened his grip on him.
"Woken up, ranger?" he asked pleasantly, and Aragorn resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment that just couldn't be conducive to his current situation.
He swallowed twice and asked, as strongly as he could,
"What do you want? Who are you? I do not know you."
The man began to grin even more broadly, sending a shiver of fear down the younger human's back. This was not good, not good at all…
"No, you wouldn't," he answered, stepping a bit closer to his captive. "My name is Lomar, not that it'd matter to you anyway. But we know a bit about you, my friend. For example that you keep company with elves and that you are entirely too interested in the good Master Gwemyr, the 'Fox' and their activities. And there, boy, lies the problem."
Aragorn just stared at the man, his mind reeling. So this wasn't one of the 'Fox's' men? Then who was he?
"Why are you interested in what I do and whose company I keep?" he asked icily, narrowing his eyes at the man.
"Oh," the older human chuckled, "We are interested in many things. Especially in these though. So, ranger, why don't you answer a few simple questions first? What do you know? More importantly, what do your elven friends know? What are you doing here? Who talked to you?"
The young ranger gave him a confused look. Even if he had felt any inclination to answer these questions, which he didn't, by the way, he had no idea what he should tell the man.
"Know?" he asked, trying to stall. "What do you mean? We are merely looking for Gwem…"
While he was still talking, Lomar had simply given him a lenient smile and had nodded at someone to Aragorn's right. Before the young man had even time to turn his head, a fist came out of nowhere and connected with his midsection, driving all the air out of his lungs.
The only thing that prevented him from falling to the ground were the arms that still gripped his shoulders, and so he hung limply in the man's grip, gasping for air. A detached part of his brain noted that there were at least three men here then, but right now he was far too busy trying to breathe to really care. After a few seconds the blonde man stepped closer again, the annoying smile still on his face.
"That was not a very clever idea, ranger," he said evenly, looking at his captive's pale face. "I ask again, who has talked to you?"
Aragorn simply closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, and therefore didn't see the next blow coming that connected with a sickening crack with the side of his chest. The young ranger groaned softly and tried to curl himself up, but the hands that held him prevented any such action.
After a moment a hand grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, and Aragorn decided to ask someone very wise in the near future why people delighted in doing that after knocking him on the head without obvious reason. Perhaps his father or the Lady Galadriel. Even Glorfindel might know.
The man looked at him with amusement in his eyes.
"You should reconsider your attitude, boy," he said, pulling the dark head up a bit more. "Stubbornness will get you nowhere, and I assure you that we can go on like this forever. And believe me, we will have a lot more fun than you."
Aragorn shook his head when the man released his hair and winced as pain flared to life in his skull.
"We didn't talk to anyone."
The man in front of him only smiled and nodded at the invisible man behind and to the right of him, and another blow hit him in the side, making him expel what little air he had managed to gather.
This went on for quite some time, perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, although it felt definitely a lot longer to the young ranger. It soon became a kind of routine: Lomar would ask a question, Aragorn would shake his head and a fist would connect with his torso or face. In fact, once that he knew what to expect, Aragorn did his best to roll with the force of the blows and to somehow deflect them, with mediocre success however since the man behind him held him tightly.
All in all, it wasn't the worst beating he had ever been through, but still, the sooner he could make them knock him a little too hard on the head so he could lose consciousness again and escape the pain, the better. All this only served to bring back memories he would rather forget.
A blow to his already wounded temple brought him close to that goal, and while he was teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, he felt the hands release him and he fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, unable to break his fall.
The blonde man gave the semi-conscious ranger an emotionless look.
"This is taking too long," he told the man that had been holding the captive in place. "He won't break as easily as the late Drabo, I fear. I think you should go now and inform the captain."
The other man nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the young human.
"I think you're right. It's apparently true what they say about rangers." He shot the other two men that were leaning against the wall close to their captive a quick glance. "Will you be alright?"
His companion nodded curtly.
"We have paid them well, they will do as I ask. You need to inform Adruran of the elves, there could be some on their way to them already. Once I have found out what he knows I will follow you."
The other man returned the nod.
"Have fun then," he said with an evil smile and made his way over to the back door, soundlessly disappearing into the night.
Lomar watched his companion leave and turned back to the figure on the floor. Even though his captain did not really approve of things like this, he still liked it. The power, that was what it was all about. He really, really liked that feeling.
This was going to be interesting; he was really curious how long a ranger would last. They were a lot harder to kill – or break – than other humans, or so he had heard…
He gave the two other a sign and they bent down and dragged the dark haired man to his feet. He was obviously regaining his senses now, for he lifted his head and pierced his captor with a fierce stare that reached right into the other man's heart. The blonde man hesitated a moment. He had never before seen a human with such silver eyes, and if he hadn't known better he would have thought an icy shudder had raced down his back…
He shook his head quickly and mentally berated himself for his thoughts. Why would he be afraid of a single bound man? This one was neither in the condition nor in the position to harm him; it wasn't as if he was part elf or something…
The man stepped closer and grabbed the ranger's upper arm, raising an eyebrow when he saw pain flash across the other's face.
"Well, ranger, my friend had to leave, but do not concern yourself with that. We have other things to do."
He tightened his grip on the younger man and dragged him across the room, turning shortly to look at one of the men.
"You stay here at the door to make sure we don't get any visitors."
The man nodded and settled down close to the door, his sword lying across his lap.
The other two men proceeded in dragging Aragorn further into the warehouse, making the young man wonder not for the first time what it was about him that attracted such situations. He just couldn't understand why every other person insisted on knocking him around, he mused and suppressed a moan when the blonde man gripped his injured upper arm more tightly. Finally, they stopped, and he looked up, only to instantly wish that he hadn't.
In front of him were two large pipes that ran across the whole length of the room they had just entered, approximately two feet in diameter and cutting through the room at a height of about five feet. This was apparently not only a warehouse, but some sort of abandoned factory as well, he thought.
While he was usually not very frightened by pipes of any kind, these ones were slightly different. They were made of copper and had once probably gleamed in the lights of the now dark lamps that hung below the ceiling, but now they were dark, dusty, rather dirty and … leaking.
Had they been filled with water or something like that Aragorn would have thought this fact to be cause of little alarm, but these pipes obviously carried hot steam from one part of the building to the next. Aragorn suspected that they just ran through the entire length of the building and that the steam was in fact still used in one of the building on either side of this one. The young ranger gulped silently. There were several rather large tears in the metal pipes, and hot steam was escaping with a sizzling noise in a constant stream.
Lomar grinned and dragged his captive closer to the pipes.
"Have you ever burnt yourself while boiling water?" he asked the dark haired ranger with an evil grin. "It's amazing how much something like steam can hurt, isn't it?"
Aragorn didn't answer, eyes fixed on the pipes. Of course he had burned himself as a child, just like most youngsters did, be they elven, human, hobbit or otherwise. But since he, as Elrond still claimed smiling, never did anything halfway, he had not only burnt his fingers, but his entire right arm, almost giving the cook who had beeen supervising him a heart attack, something which the elf still hadn't forgiven him.
Only with his father's skill had the burns healed without leaving permanent marks, and he could still remember how much they had hurt. He quickly pushed down theses memories again. He would not think of that now, he would not…
Suddenly, Donyc's face appeared in his mind's eye, sneering at him as the human commander that had captured him a few months ago had done so often. Dark memories of pain and fear and helplessness resurfaced, and he felt his panic go up yet another notch. Elbereth, it was happening again, just like the last time, and he was once again powerless to do anything…
He was trying to resist, but the two men dragged him ever closed to the broken pipes. What kind of normal person saw a steaming pipe and remembered to use it for torturing someone later, he thought to himself, trying to keep his mind off his predicament. That was nothing less than sick.
'O Ilúvatar,' he thought desperately, 'Legolas, now would be a good time indeed for a dramatic entrance, mellonamin…'
They had stopped in front of the largest rip now, and Aragorn absent-mindedly studied the bent metal, wondering what had caused the gash. It wasn't such a bad damage, the smith in Rivendell would be able to repair that in a second…
"Last chance, ranger," Lomar said, gripping one of the younger man's bound arms tightly. "Tell me who has sent you here, and we will continue this conversation somewhere else."
A numbing hopelessness spread through the young human. There was nothing he could say that would satisfy this man, he realised. He didn't know anything he could tell him, even if he had wanted to.
"No-one," he shook his head exhaustedly. "No-one sent us. I do not even know what you're talking about."
The man gave a sound of mock dismay and shook his head, and before Aragorn had time to prepare himself for what was to come, two pairs of hands gripped his arms tightly and pushed him forwards.
The only thing he thought in the split second between entering the incredible heat and the beginning of the pain was that this must be what crayfish had to feel like when being cooked. He and his elven brothers quite often searched the banks of the Bruinen for those savoury little animals, and as a child he had always tried to find more than Elladan or Elrohir. Up until now, however, he had been unable to imagine what being thrown into a pot of boiling water felt like.
In a matter of seconds that changed though. The steam discharged diagonally from right to left, and so only his left side got caught in the heat, something which was more than enough, he though.
Aragorn couldn't stifle a cry when the sharp, biting pain washed over him, and even though he still wore his shirt, it felt as thought every single cell of the left side of his body was slowly being consumed by a searing heat. His body trembled and jerked and instinctively tried to pull back from the heat, but the hands in his back wouldn't let him, and so he was forced to remain standing in the steam, unable to escape the nauseating pain that was beginning to define his entire existence.
Just when he thought that the Valar had finally shown mercy and granted him unconsciousness, he was pulled back and almost collapsed against his captors. Aragorn just kept his eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths past clenched teeth as he was trying to master the pain. Elbereth, this hurt so much more than he had remembered…
The blonde man stepped slightly to the side so he could see the ranger's face whose back was now to the pipes.
"Not convinced yet, boy?" he asked, amusement and something like grudging respect in his voice. He reached out and pulled the shirt aside, revealing red skin where the first blisters were already begin to form.
He shook his head as he let the shirt fall back into place and reached out to grab the younger man's chin again.
"Look at me, ranger," he demanded, and to his surprise the young man really opened his eyes, still giving him a fiery glare.
Lomar stepped back and raised an eyebrow.
"Do we have to repeat this? We can do this all night long if you want to," he said, looking for a sign of fear in the silver eyes, but if the flash he could briefly see was fear, then it was gone before he could really identify it.
He traced a finger over the developing burns and raised the other brow as his captive's body stiffened under the painful touch and he tried to pull away.
"Why do you do this?" he asked, finger still moving over the burns, "Is it because you want to protect the elves? Is that it?" He shook his head in disdain, giving the pain-filled face in front of him a disapproving glance. "They are not even of your kind, ranger, so why even bother?"
He stepped a bit closer and hissed,
"See? Where are they, your elves? Are they coming to rescue you? Why aren't they here?"
Aragorn didn't even acknowledge his presence, and the other man stepped even closer, running his finger over a particularly nasty looking burn and giving a humourless smile when the younger man moaned softly in pain.
"If I can't stand one thing, it is elves," Lomar told him softly, burrowing his fingers in the abused flesh of the young ranger's chest. "I can't stand them, and I like those who try to be their friends even less. As if you could ever be friends with creatures such as them! All they are interested in are the stars, or trees, or flowers. They won't even have noticed that you are gone!"
He leaned forward a little until he was close to Aragorn's white face.
"You see? You are on your own, ranger. Where are they now, your friends, the elves?"
"Right behind you," a soft voice stated menacingly, and Lomar and the other man whirled around, only to lay eyes on the two angriest-looking elves they had ever seen.
TBC...
teryg (pl. of torog) - trolls
mellonamin - my friend
*ducks behind her pet balrog Stan* Don't kill me! He's still alive, that's something, isn't it? Besides, it wasn't all MY fault, a part of it was _Cathy's_ (*points accusingly*) idea! She made me do it! Besides: You like it, just admit it! *looks at slowly advancing reades* Uhm, guys, come on, it wasn't THAT bad, was it ... You are taking things too seriously ... HELP! *runs off to escape angry Aragorn fans*
*pokes head back in for a second* So, if you want the next part, review and I'll see what I can do! Please? Pretty please??
Additional A/N:
TrinityTheSheDevil - *looks at her carefully* You are insane, did I ever tell you that? But, see: Here's a whole chapter with Aragorn torture, just for you. 'Screaming like a man with a splinter in his foot'? You _are_ still kinda normal, aren't you? LOL, Estel's been rangernapped? You could say that, and the asnwer to your question is: A lot, and most of it rather uncomplimentary, I think... *g* So, now go back to staring at that poster, go on, shoo...
Coreinha - *hangs head in shame* Okay, I admit it, I need therapy. But will it make you happier to know that Celylith annd Legolas are going to get their fair share of owies as well? I am nothing if not fair, you know... *g* But I don't think I would be able to do a 12 step program - too many! Aren't there any with three or four?
Arwen-Evenstar - Great you liked the love poetry bit, it was a spontaneous thing. I hadn't planned it in the slightest. *innocently* You don't like cliffies? Why? THey are so much fun! *evil grin* Sorry, this is another one, there was nothing I could do - you know, my alter ego and all that... And you're right - eventually Legolas will be angry, once he is capable of thinking straight again - you know how mothering he can be... *g*
Salara - Wohoo! Zwei reviews, na wer haette denn das gedacht... Du hast uerigens recht, Nólad-Klone sind ueberaus vielseitig... *g* Das mit dem Umzug ist eigene Geschichte, lass uns doch einfach sagen, dass ich wieder ausziehe, wenn ich einen Nachmieter finden sollte. Ist alles eine sehr lange, komplizierte und dumme Geschichte. *rot werd* Schoen, dass du die Szene mochtest! Ich habe so eine beste Freundin, die mir zwar noch nicht beinahe-ertrunken ist, aber was nicht ist, kann ja noch werden... *g* Und ja, ich gebe zu, dass Aragorn extrem dumm gehandelt hat, aber so sind sie nun mal, die jungen Maenner... Und bitte, erwaehne NIE WIEDER Walter von der Vogelweide! Ich musste so eins seiner _daemlichen_ Gedichte auf Mittelhochdeutsch auswendig lernen - ein Kindheitstrauma! LOL, Galadriel asl Pin-up-Lady? Das ist gut ... scary, aber gut ... *g* Und hey! Celylith war nie ein instabiler Faktor! Pah... *geht grummelnd weg*
Seveawen/Miss Understood - Okay, now it's offcial: You're insane. You changed your NAME? That is definitely not normal, girl...*pats her back* Sure he loves you, hold on to that thought... Well, elves don't celebrate birthdays, they celebrate conception days, or so I've been told. But since that's the same (just a year later, since she-elves are pregnant for exactly a year), it doesn't really matter, does it... And yes, you DO need help. Urgently.
Leggylover03 - *blushes* Thank you! Well, I already have the idea for a third story, but it all depends on how much time I have, and it's never enough, believe me... *g* Calm down, the pain's coming, honestly, you are such an impatient bunch... *g*
Alex Mistress Squirrel - Okay, I have to admit that yours is one of the oddest screennames I have ever seen. That doesn't mean that I don't like it though... *g* Great you like this sequel, and don't worry, there ARE more chapters coming! Thanks for reviewing!
Alilacia - *evil grin* And yet _another_ cliffy! I am so evil, don't tell me! LOL at the booklet! That's a really funny idea! I can just imagine that... *g* *grabs the back of her shirt* NO! Don't tear Owaeran limb from limb, I still need him! Well, the tatoo, yes, there probably IS a tatoo market somewhere, and all the bad guys go there... *g* Great you liked the love poem bit, it was rather a spontaneous thing, I never planned it. It just ... happened, like so many other things around here... And about Celylith: Let's just say that nothing will happen to him _yet_, okay? we still have lots of time for that... *evil grin*
Mouse - Oh no, there will be bodies left ... or body parts ... whatever... *g* I'm glad you luke Celylith, I love him! *backs away quickly* Evee though he's Zam Kenobi's husband, of course...
Cheryl W - Hey! I do not 'always' have torture in story for our dear ranger! You have to confuse me with someone else... *Cheryl points at last story* Ah, just a coincidence, really... Great you like it, despite (or because of?) the cliffies and the character torture! Thanks for the review!
CrazyLOTRfan - 'Master of all things cliffy-like'? *evil grin* I like that! Thanks! *nods sadly* You're right, Aragorn's really beginning to make a habit out of being knocked unconscious - perhaps he needs therapy? No, I think _I_ need therapy... *g*
One15 - Na ja, ich meine, singen wir nicht alle mal Liebeslieder? Nein? Auch wahr, aber das hier ist Mittelerde, nech? Tja, das mit meiner MUse ist mir auch nicht ganz klar. Diese ganze Liebeslieder-fuer-Seveawen-Legolas-singt-selbst-Geschichte war absolout spontan. Kein bisschen geplant, das kam einfach so, wie die meistten der Scherze u.ae. hier. Ich weiss auch nicht, woher... *knuddelt One* Danke fuer die review!
Gwyn - I know, I know ... he's stupid, plain and simple... *g* Thanks for the review!
Anya - NO! You wouldn't! Give me to *gulps* the ... the ... the readers? No, please, I beg your mercy! That would be evil! Cruel and unusual punishment, that's what it would be! *shakes head* You people and your Estel torture... Tsk tsk tsk...
Asha Dreamweaver - *blushes furiously* Don't say that! You are giving me delusions of grandeur! But it sounds rather nicem thanks... *g* And yes, they really _can't_ stay out of trouble, can they? But hey, life would be very boring indeed for us FF-writers if they could, wouldn't it? LOL, I can just imagine it! They return to Mirkwood in several pieces, and Hithrawyn refuses to treat them... "No! It's your own fault! And now get out of my healing rooms and bleed somewhere else!" *g*
XsilicaX - I know you're probably not going to read this since you're away, but what the heck, I'm still writing it. Great you liked that Seobryn scene, he can be quite cute indeed... Well, here it is now, the chapter that is _entirely_ YOUR fault! *evil grin* Hope you like it though! Have lots of fun on your little trip and come back soon or I will miss you! *huggles her* Oh, and... *looks around her, then whispers* Michael Schumacher is a mentally retarded toad! Mhahahaha! *runs off*
Shadow Warrior - *nods sadly* Yes, it's been some time since last we met... *g* You like Aragorn torture then? Son't worry, there are LOTS of people like that here, so you're in good company... Well, he won't suffer from a second skull fracture, never fear, but there might be a tiny little concussion... *evil grin* I hope you'll like the rest as well, thanks for the review!
Critternut - Well, to be honest I've been drinking (just once in a while of course! *g*) since I was 15, and that's rather late. But there are laws nobody really observes, and that is one of them ... besides, nobody really cares... *g* Uhm, that did kinda sound as if I were an alcoholic, which I am not. Okay? *g* Well, yes, what happens to Aragorn? A lot, my friend, and none of it overly pleasant... *g*
Ciria - *huggles her baby orc* Thanks! It's adorable! Usually the dubbing here is quite good, but I've only read the books ib English and then the German terms (they even translater the names!) do sound very stupid... Of course Elrond is a better healer than Estel, but as you will remember, Rivendell is on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains, so he doesn't count. *giggles* No, Legolas is definitely _not_ innocent, but let us just ignore that, shall we? I hope you have lots of fun on your trip, and in August it may even be finished! You never know!
Cestari - Arwen? *chokes* Definitely not! I really like her, but she's in Lothlórien, and she will stay there. Besides, Seobryn knows the difference between a girl and a she-elf and would have told them if it were Arwen... Uhm, who, me? Give them a break? Come on, be honest with yourself: Do you want me to? *g*
Imbefaniel - *defensively* So what? My alter ego is quite nice, actually... Oh, yes, I think you could already start painting the 'Get well soon card'... He'll need it! LOL, put Aragorn on a leash? That's definitely a good idea... *g*
Stacee Phelps - So you like Aragorn angst? Yes? Good, then this is the fic for you, 'cause there's much more to come.. *evil cackle* And I agree, he's kinda stupid, but then again, so are most men his age... *dark glare* Thanks for the review!
Elladan - Hey! Nice to see you again! *huggles Elladan* Uhm, you'd better not tell the men in the white coats about this cliffy then ... I like this one very much ... am very proud of it... *pats Elladan's back* Don't worry! We're all insane here, welcome to the club! Thank you so much for all your kind words!
Alexa - *nods* Yes, he is ... an idiot, I mean... And I think Legolas will be so happy to get the idiot back more or less in one piece that he will spare him most of the lecture. Uhm, about the growth thing: I guess you're right, kinda, 'cause I just realised it the second you told me. I hadn't planned that, it just happened. *shrugs* Such things happen all the time here... And don't worry, I won't kill Celylith - I think. Not yet, anyway... *g*
Lina - *shakes head* Éomer and his Rohirrim aren't very good at tracking, are they? If they can't even find your tracks before you find the post... Pathetic, that's what it is... *g* 'Do not disrespect the sexiness of the ranger'? Uhm, Lina, I think you're losing it here, calm down... LOL, Lego-tard? How true... Eeek! *runs after Lina to escape angry Legolas fans* Uhm, you kinda lost me there, Lina. Why is that cliffy Seobryn's fault? He didn't do anything! And before you read this chapter, remember: This is not real. No rangers were harmed in the process of writing this fic. Really. *pointed look at Éomer* Stay.Calm. Don't kill me. Calm. Okay?
Marbienl - Yup, I guess he was too exhausted to dream. Good thing too. Oh yes, my friend. It can _always_ get worse, and usually, it does. Just read on and you'll see what I mean... And no, you may NOT claim Estel. Celylith is my character, Estel's Tolkien's. Sad facts, I know, but true nonetheless. *sighs and pulls her back* DON'T slap Legolas, okay? Just remember: He and Celylith have to rescue Estel in the end. If you slap him senseless, Aragorn will die and it will be your fault. Okay? Uhm, and I think I'll keep Wilwarin, I might still need her. You never know... But your spider sounds nice enough... No, the amputate-the-arm-bit was when they ran into the hill trolls half a year ago, something I mentioned in AEFAE. Perhaps I'm going to write a prequel one of these days... I hope you'll enjoy the chapter! Somehow, I have not the slightest doubt that you will... *g*
Zam - *backs away* SURE he is yours! *thrusts Celylith into Zam's arms and runs* Live long and prosper! LOL, you have a tatto saying _that_? You may even be crazier than I thought, and that's not easy to begin with... You really like the voices, huh? Well, I have them as well, and believe me, they are just like that! LOL at the Elrond scenes! I can just imagine that! But I'm sure he would get out of it with the help of a good lawyer... *grabs Zan's shirt* How many times have I told you, Do Not Rape My Characters? Really, Lina should put a leash on you! Orc horde: Lina????? Nili: Oh, forget I said anything. Well, I know what Scooby Doo is, but I always thought that it was stupid, even as a child. So I've never watched it, or the movie. *shudders*
NaughtyNat - Well, it's not exactly _about_ the dreams, it's more or less about what will give him dreams in the future... *evil grin* Great you like it so much, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well - which you should, if you like Estel torture, that is...
E - *nods* He IS stupid. Very very very very stupid, I admit that. And I wouldn't worry about Legolas killing Estel, there are other people giving that a try right now... *gulps* You will ... look at me? All the time? That is not good! *hastily* See? See? Chapter's here! *mutters* 'Big E is watching you', huh?
Fliewatuet - LOL, you could say that! That elf gains fan girls wherever he goes! Yeah well, Celylith did indeed enjoy the little argument, but then agian, watching two so incredibly stubborn people quarrel can be quite funny! Uhm, define 'dark', please?! You should know me well enough to know that it never looks hopeless-dark, only temporaray-rather-dark, if you see what I mean? Well, the update is due, uhm, now? That soon enough? *g*
Elenora - *blushes until she resembles a beetroot* Stop that! You will give me delusions of grandeur! But ... awwww!! *huggles Elenora* Thank you! All your wonderful compliments really made my day which hasn't been so good - and it's only 11 pm! It can still get worse! I just got this review virtually a second before I wanted to post, so it's lucky I was able to read it before that fateful moment... I usually try to update every four to five days, right now every four if FF.net co-operates which it doesn't quite often lately. I don't know how much longer I can keep that up since exams are coming ever closer, but we'll see... *g* Celylith is pronounced, well, like Kelylith? With a K and th; all Sindarin words that start with 'C' are pronounced like 'K', just like Celebrimbor, Celeborn etc. Well, about Legolas recovering too quickly: He's an elf and it was only a little bit of cold water? *evil grin* Really, it wasn't THAT bad ... but you'll see, he's not completely well again, sometime next chapter ... or was it the one after the next? *shrugs* I'm getting old... *g* And English isn't my first language, and strictly speaking it isn't my second either since I started with Latin and started to learn English when I was 12 - so that's 8 years ago now... Thanks for your compliments though, and if you want to know, German is my first language. *shrugs* Nothing I can do about that, I fear... I really hope your migraines have gone wherever migraines go when you wish them to hell, thanks SO much for the huge wonderful review! And see? A new chapter's already here, you're SO lucky! *g*
*sighs* Nothing's better than reviews, and if there is, I have yet to find it. Which I won't, because there isn't. I am not making any sense, am I? Ah well, whatever, humans apparently DO need more than four hours sleep a night...