When he regained consciousness, he found himself near to a fire, lying on
the ground in an awkward position, as if somebody had tossed away a sack
full of rags. He tried to sit, but it was only now that he noticed the
rough rope that chafed his wrists and bound his legs. Laughter sounded loud
in his ears, and as Legolas lifted his head, he saw a band of men, of which
one was not unknown to him. He knew him, from years back...
"Earion! What are you doing here?" the elf said, his voice low and dangerous. A blue fire burned in his eyes.
Silence fell after his words. Earion, the group´s leader, rose and walked over to the fire. Kneeling in front of Legolas, he grabbed a fistful of blonde hair, and twisted his head around, so he was forced to look at the man.
"Never say that name again. Never, or you will be sorry that your mother gave birth to you. Thank the Powers that she has died!"
Tears of rage burned in Legolas´ s eyes, and ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder, he struggled wildly to get rid of the ropes. To no avail but to chafe the already rough skin of his wrists even more.
"Stop struggling, elf," Earion spat at him. "Or it will only serve to weaken you more. It´s not that I care for you, but we will need you alive for a while, just long enough to get your father to bargain with us..." A vile grin crossed the men´s faces. "And then you will be free to go to the Halls of Mandos...."
"My father would never..!"
"My Lord Princeling, you are still as naive as you were 17 years back. Of course your father will... you are the only one left of his family, don´t you remember? He would never leave you in my hands, not after what happened to your mother and your sweet sister.... and I will make sure you will follow them. Both of you, but first I want to see Thranduil suffer as much as I did. Only torturing his body will not do. I want to make sure that his very spirit is hurt!"
All those words were spoken in a mocking sing-sang voice that enraged Legolas even more. He did not care much for his own life, but he realized that Earion was right. Thranduil would never live through another loss. He had been on the brink of desparation when Dúliniel and Thalien had died, and it had been hard to pull him back. He was not sure if the King of Mirkwood would allow it this time.
"Earion, you can not do this. Spare father´s life, I beg you. He was your father as well, once."
"My name is not Earion." A sharp slap into his face let Legolas´s head snap back. "My name is Moran now, and your beloved father took everything from me. He denied me the love of your sister, and he sent me away. He took everything from me!"
"Because you were responsible for their death," Legolas replied, with his eyes narrowed. The smoke of the fire stung them, and his head had started to throb with a dull pain, while the arrow-wound sent waves of agony through his slender body. Slowly but surely, he felt his strenght and resolve weakening, not sure how much longer he could stay awake.
He released a breath he did not know he had held, as Moran stood up, brushing soil from the knees of his stained breeches. Within the blink of an eye, he wheeled around, and kicked Legolas hard into the rips.
His world dissolved in darkness again, after a blinding explosion of pain.
* * *
He had promised her that he would not be journeying very long. But now many days since his departure had passed, and the summer ended. The leaves on the trees turned red and golden already, and a chill was in the morning air. Mist had begun to creep through the forest in the nights, while first leaves fell to the earth silently.
Ithiloth tried to calm herself with the thought that Legolas had to stay in Imladris longer than expected, but it had become hard to ignore the people´s voices who asked if something had happened to the prince.
And it was not only that.... in heart grew doubts as well. She wondered if he had chanced upon a company of Orcs on his way, or if he was even dead. And even though she knew nothing for certain, the unsure fear that had seized her even before his travel did not leave her in peace anymore.
"Now, what is it you wish to tell me?" the King looked at Ithiloth with an earnest face, but for a moment she seemed to be very distant, with her thoughts in another place. "Now, child? What troubles you?" Thranduil repeated his question, and this time she answered.
"King Thranduil, I fear for your son. He should have returned many days ago. Do you not feel strange about his long journey?"
The King´s eyes narrowed. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the servants and motioned to them to close the door. It was only now that he spoke.
"Indeed, I fear for him. I know how much you love Legolas, and I expected you to speak to me. Know then that I have already done whatever I can. I have sent out groups of riders, scouting the wood, and messengers were sent to Imladris, in case he lingers there longer than expected. But I doubt it, Lord Elrond would have sent word himself, and the same would have happened if Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir had not arrived at all. If something has happened, it must have been on his way back."
Instead of silencing her worries, those words only strengthened them, and especially it was the old grief in the King´s eyes.
"Thank you for the audience, Your Highness. I am grateful that something has been done already. I hope he returns in time."
Before she left the room, Ithiloth turned around again, and saw that the King had bowed his head.
In this night she slept little. And if she had fallen asleep for a brief moment, the dreams came. Nightmares, in which she saw Legolas bloody and unmoving on the hard ground, surrounded by orcs too numerous to be counted. Every time she woke with a gasp or a scream, and eventually, she tried not to fall asleep again. It was early morning now, Arien was not yet steering the sunship across the sky, when she reached a decision.
"Earion! What are you doing here?" the elf said, his voice low and dangerous. A blue fire burned in his eyes.
Silence fell after his words. Earion, the group´s leader, rose and walked over to the fire. Kneeling in front of Legolas, he grabbed a fistful of blonde hair, and twisted his head around, so he was forced to look at the man.
"Never say that name again. Never, or you will be sorry that your mother gave birth to you. Thank the Powers that she has died!"
Tears of rage burned in Legolas´ s eyes, and ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder, he struggled wildly to get rid of the ropes. To no avail but to chafe the already rough skin of his wrists even more.
"Stop struggling, elf," Earion spat at him. "Or it will only serve to weaken you more. It´s not that I care for you, but we will need you alive for a while, just long enough to get your father to bargain with us..." A vile grin crossed the men´s faces. "And then you will be free to go to the Halls of Mandos...."
"My father would never..!"
"My Lord Princeling, you are still as naive as you were 17 years back. Of course your father will... you are the only one left of his family, don´t you remember? He would never leave you in my hands, not after what happened to your mother and your sweet sister.... and I will make sure you will follow them. Both of you, but first I want to see Thranduil suffer as much as I did. Only torturing his body will not do. I want to make sure that his very spirit is hurt!"
All those words were spoken in a mocking sing-sang voice that enraged Legolas even more. He did not care much for his own life, but he realized that Earion was right. Thranduil would never live through another loss. He had been on the brink of desparation when Dúliniel and Thalien had died, and it had been hard to pull him back. He was not sure if the King of Mirkwood would allow it this time.
"Earion, you can not do this. Spare father´s life, I beg you. He was your father as well, once."
"My name is not Earion." A sharp slap into his face let Legolas´s head snap back. "My name is Moran now, and your beloved father took everything from me. He denied me the love of your sister, and he sent me away. He took everything from me!"
"Because you were responsible for their death," Legolas replied, with his eyes narrowed. The smoke of the fire stung them, and his head had started to throb with a dull pain, while the arrow-wound sent waves of agony through his slender body. Slowly but surely, he felt his strenght and resolve weakening, not sure how much longer he could stay awake.
He released a breath he did not know he had held, as Moran stood up, brushing soil from the knees of his stained breeches. Within the blink of an eye, he wheeled around, and kicked Legolas hard into the rips.
His world dissolved in darkness again, after a blinding explosion of pain.
* * *
He had promised her that he would not be journeying very long. But now many days since his departure had passed, and the summer ended. The leaves on the trees turned red and golden already, and a chill was in the morning air. Mist had begun to creep through the forest in the nights, while first leaves fell to the earth silently.
Ithiloth tried to calm herself with the thought that Legolas had to stay in Imladris longer than expected, but it had become hard to ignore the people´s voices who asked if something had happened to the prince.
And it was not only that.... in heart grew doubts as well. She wondered if he had chanced upon a company of Orcs on his way, or if he was even dead. And even though she knew nothing for certain, the unsure fear that had seized her even before his travel did not leave her in peace anymore.
"Now, what is it you wish to tell me?" the King looked at Ithiloth with an earnest face, but for a moment she seemed to be very distant, with her thoughts in another place. "Now, child? What troubles you?" Thranduil repeated his question, and this time she answered.
"King Thranduil, I fear for your son. He should have returned many days ago. Do you not feel strange about his long journey?"
The King´s eyes narrowed. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the servants and motioned to them to close the door. It was only now that he spoke.
"Indeed, I fear for him. I know how much you love Legolas, and I expected you to speak to me. Know then that I have already done whatever I can. I have sent out groups of riders, scouting the wood, and messengers were sent to Imladris, in case he lingers there longer than expected. But I doubt it, Lord Elrond would have sent word himself, and the same would have happened if Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir had not arrived at all. If something has happened, it must have been on his way back."
Instead of silencing her worries, those words only strengthened them, and especially it was the old grief in the King´s eyes.
"Thank you for the audience, Your Highness. I am grateful that something has been done already. I hope he returns in time."
Before she left the room, Ithiloth turned around again, and saw that the King had bowed his head.
In this night she slept little. And if she had fallen asleep for a brief moment, the dreams came. Nightmares, in which she saw Legolas bloody and unmoving on the hard ground, surrounded by orcs too numerous to be counted. Every time she woke with a gasp or a scream, and eventually, she tried not to fall asleep again. It was early morning now, Arien was not yet steering the sunship across the sky, when she reached a decision.