Once more a big, huge thank you to everybody who reviewed…
To everybody who asked – yes Italy was great – and yes, I came back well rested –
and with the idea for another story spooking in my head. Well, I will try not to start on
it until this one is finished. I'll try… :-)
I am also glad to hear how many of you seem to like the twins as much as I do…
although they are a stubborn lot – always doing things I never wanted them to do in
the first place… :-)
Oh – and thanks for hugs and cookies :-) !!!
Thanks to Little My, my most patient beta reader!!!!
So, on with the story, ere some of you make good of their threats…
___
Legolas had tried to roll away, out of the horse's reach, and was face down in the
moment his movement was halted with brutal force when the hooves came down on
him. He was lucky that only one of them hit him, but the blinding pain shooting
through him drove any thought away. The hoof impacted with his left arm, pressing
him hard into the ground. The terrible pressure on his back drove all air from his
lungs and stifled any scream the feeling of breaking bones might have caused.
Then the man was on his feet again and his movements caused the horse to break
away, its panic only slowly subsiding. Legolas could hear his voice as he soothingly
called out to the frightened animal. The elf seemed to be forgotten for the moment.
Even through the pain, Legolas realized he had only this chance to get away and
tried to get to his feet. The pain was breathtaking, the broken bones in his left arm
grating against each other as he forced himself to his knees. His bound arms
increased the agony, as it was impossible to keep the wounded limb still.
He managed to get into a kneeling position and paused to take in the situation. The
feeling of cold steel against his throat made him freeze. The man stood behind him,
the horse obviously calmed. A quick glance at the blade pressed against his skin
made Legolas even more careful to remain motionless. It was one of his own long
knives, and he knew well how sharp they were.
He heard a chuckle, and it was not a pleasant sound. The odor of the man was once
more in Legolas's nostrils, and this time as it was not mixed with the smell of horse
the elf realized he knew it. With it, a recollection came of a night many days ago--a
dark wood and four men. It brought the memory of pain with it, and for a moment the
past mixed with the present and all the elf knew was agony wracking his body. Then
it passed and his vision became clear once more, so he could see the man that had
stepped in front of him, never easing the pressure of the sharp blade he held in his
left hand against the elf's bare skin.
'Not very dignified for an elf to fall off a horse, is it?' his voice taunted.
Legolas's eyes flashed up at him. Seeing the face only confirmed what his other
senses had already told him. The last time he had seen this man had been in the
dark streets of Minas Tirith after he had bested him in a fight, seeking retribution for a
cowardly ambush. Legolas had refrained from taking his life then but right now he
deeply regretted this decision.
'No more than for a man,' Legolas hissed back. He could see the rage flickering in
the light blue eyes staring at him. There was something unsettling about these eyes,
something that seemed not right.
The blade drew blood as the pressure on it intensified, but not enough to seriously
wound the elf.
'Hold your tongue, elf, or I might cut it out,' the man spoke, and the coldness of his
voice left no doubt that he would go through with this threat. He had seen the
recognition in Legolas's eyes and felt deep satisfaction that the elf knew who he was.
It was now that Legolas realized it was the flicker of madness he could see in the
blue eyes. Then the man moved and for the first time the elf caught a glimpse of his
right hand. An ugly scar ran across it and two finger were missing, the retribution for
holding down the elf while he was beaten. The moment the man's hand disappeared
into the pouch secured to his belt, Legolas moved.
He jerked his head backwards, away from the blade and he ducked low, throwing
himself against the man's legs with all his strength. With a cry of surprise, the man
stumbled backwards, clearly not having expected his bound and hurt captive to show
any form of resistance. The sudden impact against him made him lose his balance
and he fell, letting go of the blade to catch himself.
Had Legolas's hands not been bound behind his back, this would have been enough
of an advantage for the elf to take possession of the weapon and free himself. But
with his arms useless, all the elf could do was try to get away and he was greatly
hindered by the pain that had exploded in his body. He got to his feet much slower
than intended, weakened by the agony in his arm. His vision blurred and for a
moment he had to stay still and breath deeply to avoid the darkness closing in on
him. Only a moment, but enough for the man to recover and launch himself at the elf.
A cry of agony was torn from Legolas as he crashed down, his body's weight landing
on his bound arms. Brilliant pain shot through him, too much for him to take and
darkness engulfed him.
Feeling the elf go limp, the man moved away from him and quickly reached for the
knife, seizing it with his left hand. He returned to the elf's side, crouching down
beside him. The blade once more pressing against his captive's neck, he fumbled
with his right hand in the pouch, retrieving a small flask. Then he waited.
It took not long for Legolas to resurface from the darkness of unconsciousness, and
as his eyes flickered open he met the man's burning gaze. He had to use all his self-
control to not moan at the immense pain pulsing through him, radiating from his arm.
But he was loath to show weakness, too proud to let this man know the full extent of
his agony.
'It is your choice, elf,' the man spoke, and his voice held enough malice and hate to
send a shudder through Legolas. 'Either you take this,' he held the flask in front of
Legolas's face, 'or I cut your throat right now.' A cold smile appeared on his face.
'Although it would be a shame for you to die so easily.'
Given a choice between immediate death and taking a potion he knew naught about
was not hard. As long as he was still alive, he could find a chance to escape.
So refusing to speak to the man, not out of fear but contempt, Legolas averted his
eyes and opened his mouth.
With a snicker the man tilted the flask, letting a few drops of the clear liquid fall into
the unresisting elf's mouth.
'I knew you would see reason. But I fear you will come to regret this decision.'
It was a strange taste that filled Legolas's mouth, slightly sweet but not unpleasant.
He could already feel numbness spread through him and while a part of him fought it
desperately, a small part of him welcomed it for it would mean to be free of the pain.
In the end it was not his decision, as the power of the herbs the draught was made
from overcame his resistance and he slipped away into darkness.
@@@
Too much time had passed for Gimli's liking when Elrohir finally turned to them again.
'Can we leave now?' the dwarf asked, his voice overly polite.
'Yes, friend dwarf, we will leave now. But we will not take the horses for they make
too much noise in the woods.'
'And you know where to go, do you?' There was a slight sarcastic edge to Gimli's
voice but Elrohir chose to ignore it.
'We will find a way,' he only answered.
It took only minutes to choose the things they would take with them, leaving
everything else behind. Then the elves disappeared into the surrounding woods,
Elladan only a step behind his brother, and Gimli had no choice but to follow them.
They walked in silence, the elves' steps making no sound at all and Gimli as silently
as he could. From time to time they would stop for no apparent reason, only to move
on again after a few moments.
'I think I have never seen a dwarf making so little noise before.'
Turning his head, Gimli met Elladan's sparkling eyes. For a moment he wondered
until he realized it had been not an insult but praise. He blinked in surprise, but
refrained from telling him that he had learned how to move with stealth to avoid
Legolas's teasing about the tread of a dwarf warning everything in compass of a
league of his approach.
They came to a halt again but his time Elrohir called out in a low voice. He spoke the
elven tongue but Gimli knew enough words by now to understand the meaning.
Someone was close.
His fingers found the shaft of his axe as his heart quickened. Had they found what
they had been looking for so quickly? For a moment he was compelled to take back
all the dark thoughts he had harbored towards the twins during the long wait.
'I doubt you will need your axe, friend Gimli,' Elrohir spoke, a slight smile on his face
as he took in the battle ready stance of the dwarf.
Surprised, Gimli cast him a questioning glance, but ere the query could be formed he
could hear what the elves' keen ears had caught long before him. The sound of
footsteps, loud in the quiet of the wood. For the first time Gimli understood what it
was that Legolas spoke of, for it was easy to hear the low voices and the sounds of
moving although the ones causing them were still some distance away.
He did not need to ask; the amused look on the faces of both elves told him what he
already suspected. A group of dwarves was moving through the woods.
'What are your people doing here, Gimli?' Elladan asked.
He only shrugged for he knew not the answer.
'Surely they will tell us,' he mumbled and started to move in the direction from which
the sounds could be heard. To his slight surprise the elves did not protest but merely
followed him, letting him take the lead.
With conflicting emotions Gimli walked towards his own people. Disappointment he
felt, for they were not what he had been looking for, as well as relief of meeting his
own kin. Although with all the noise they made, he could not help but wonder if their
assistance was really desirable. For the first time he realized he was indeed grateful
for the twin's presence and did trust their abilities to aid him in finding his elven friend
far more than those of his own people.
To everybody who asked – yes Italy was great – and yes, I came back well rested –
and with the idea for another story spooking in my head. Well, I will try not to start on
it until this one is finished. I'll try… :-)
I am also glad to hear how many of you seem to like the twins as much as I do…
although they are a stubborn lot – always doing things I never wanted them to do in
the first place… :-)
Oh – and thanks for hugs and cookies :-) !!!
Thanks to Little My, my most patient beta reader!!!!
So, on with the story, ere some of you make good of their threats…
___
Legolas had tried to roll away, out of the horse's reach, and was face down in the
moment his movement was halted with brutal force when the hooves came down on
him. He was lucky that only one of them hit him, but the blinding pain shooting
through him drove any thought away. The hoof impacted with his left arm, pressing
him hard into the ground. The terrible pressure on his back drove all air from his
lungs and stifled any scream the feeling of breaking bones might have caused.
Then the man was on his feet again and his movements caused the horse to break
away, its panic only slowly subsiding. Legolas could hear his voice as he soothingly
called out to the frightened animal. The elf seemed to be forgotten for the moment.
Even through the pain, Legolas realized he had only this chance to get away and
tried to get to his feet. The pain was breathtaking, the broken bones in his left arm
grating against each other as he forced himself to his knees. His bound arms
increased the agony, as it was impossible to keep the wounded limb still.
He managed to get into a kneeling position and paused to take in the situation. The
feeling of cold steel against his throat made him freeze. The man stood behind him,
the horse obviously calmed. A quick glance at the blade pressed against his skin
made Legolas even more careful to remain motionless. It was one of his own long
knives, and he knew well how sharp they were.
He heard a chuckle, and it was not a pleasant sound. The odor of the man was once
more in Legolas's nostrils, and this time as it was not mixed with the smell of horse
the elf realized he knew it. With it, a recollection came of a night many days ago--a
dark wood and four men. It brought the memory of pain with it, and for a moment the
past mixed with the present and all the elf knew was agony wracking his body. Then
it passed and his vision became clear once more, so he could see the man that had
stepped in front of him, never easing the pressure of the sharp blade he held in his
left hand against the elf's bare skin.
'Not very dignified for an elf to fall off a horse, is it?' his voice taunted.
Legolas's eyes flashed up at him. Seeing the face only confirmed what his other
senses had already told him. The last time he had seen this man had been in the
dark streets of Minas Tirith after he had bested him in a fight, seeking retribution for a
cowardly ambush. Legolas had refrained from taking his life then but right now he
deeply regretted this decision.
'No more than for a man,' Legolas hissed back. He could see the rage flickering in
the light blue eyes staring at him. There was something unsettling about these eyes,
something that seemed not right.
The blade drew blood as the pressure on it intensified, but not enough to seriously
wound the elf.
'Hold your tongue, elf, or I might cut it out,' the man spoke, and the coldness of his
voice left no doubt that he would go through with this threat. He had seen the
recognition in Legolas's eyes and felt deep satisfaction that the elf knew who he was.
It was now that Legolas realized it was the flicker of madness he could see in the
blue eyes. Then the man moved and for the first time the elf caught a glimpse of his
right hand. An ugly scar ran across it and two finger were missing, the retribution for
holding down the elf while he was beaten. The moment the man's hand disappeared
into the pouch secured to his belt, Legolas moved.
He jerked his head backwards, away from the blade and he ducked low, throwing
himself against the man's legs with all his strength. With a cry of surprise, the man
stumbled backwards, clearly not having expected his bound and hurt captive to show
any form of resistance. The sudden impact against him made him lose his balance
and he fell, letting go of the blade to catch himself.
Had Legolas's hands not been bound behind his back, this would have been enough
of an advantage for the elf to take possession of the weapon and free himself. But
with his arms useless, all the elf could do was try to get away and he was greatly
hindered by the pain that had exploded in his body. He got to his feet much slower
than intended, weakened by the agony in his arm. His vision blurred and for a
moment he had to stay still and breath deeply to avoid the darkness closing in on
him. Only a moment, but enough for the man to recover and launch himself at the elf.
A cry of agony was torn from Legolas as he crashed down, his body's weight landing
on his bound arms. Brilliant pain shot through him, too much for him to take and
darkness engulfed him.
Feeling the elf go limp, the man moved away from him and quickly reached for the
knife, seizing it with his left hand. He returned to the elf's side, crouching down
beside him. The blade once more pressing against his captive's neck, he fumbled
with his right hand in the pouch, retrieving a small flask. Then he waited.
It took not long for Legolas to resurface from the darkness of unconsciousness, and
as his eyes flickered open he met the man's burning gaze. He had to use all his self-
control to not moan at the immense pain pulsing through him, radiating from his arm.
But he was loath to show weakness, too proud to let this man know the full extent of
his agony.
'It is your choice, elf,' the man spoke, and his voice held enough malice and hate to
send a shudder through Legolas. 'Either you take this,' he held the flask in front of
Legolas's face, 'or I cut your throat right now.' A cold smile appeared on his face.
'Although it would be a shame for you to die so easily.'
Given a choice between immediate death and taking a potion he knew naught about
was not hard. As long as he was still alive, he could find a chance to escape.
So refusing to speak to the man, not out of fear but contempt, Legolas averted his
eyes and opened his mouth.
With a snicker the man tilted the flask, letting a few drops of the clear liquid fall into
the unresisting elf's mouth.
'I knew you would see reason. But I fear you will come to regret this decision.'
It was a strange taste that filled Legolas's mouth, slightly sweet but not unpleasant.
He could already feel numbness spread through him and while a part of him fought it
desperately, a small part of him welcomed it for it would mean to be free of the pain.
In the end it was not his decision, as the power of the herbs the draught was made
from overcame his resistance and he slipped away into darkness.
@@@
Too much time had passed for Gimli's liking when Elrohir finally turned to them again.
'Can we leave now?' the dwarf asked, his voice overly polite.
'Yes, friend dwarf, we will leave now. But we will not take the horses for they make
too much noise in the woods.'
'And you know where to go, do you?' There was a slight sarcastic edge to Gimli's
voice but Elrohir chose to ignore it.
'We will find a way,' he only answered.
It took only minutes to choose the things they would take with them, leaving
everything else behind. Then the elves disappeared into the surrounding woods,
Elladan only a step behind his brother, and Gimli had no choice but to follow them.
They walked in silence, the elves' steps making no sound at all and Gimli as silently
as he could. From time to time they would stop for no apparent reason, only to move
on again after a few moments.
'I think I have never seen a dwarf making so little noise before.'
Turning his head, Gimli met Elladan's sparkling eyes. For a moment he wondered
until he realized it had been not an insult but praise. He blinked in surprise, but
refrained from telling him that he had learned how to move with stealth to avoid
Legolas's teasing about the tread of a dwarf warning everything in compass of a
league of his approach.
They came to a halt again but his time Elrohir called out in a low voice. He spoke the
elven tongue but Gimli knew enough words by now to understand the meaning.
Someone was close.
His fingers found the shaft of his axe as his heart quickened. Had they found what
they had been looking for so quickly? For a moment he was compelled to take back
all the dark thoughts he had harbored towards the twins during the long wait.
'I doubt you will need your axe, friend Gimli,' Elrohir spoke, a slight smile on his face
as he took in the battle ready stance of the dwarf.
Surprised, Gimli cast him a questioning glance, but ere the query could be formed he
could hear what the elves' keen ears had caught long before him. The sound of
footsteps, loud in the quiet of the wood. For the first time Gimli understood what it
was that Legolas spoke of, for it was easy to hear the low voices and the sounds of
moving although the ones causing them were still some distance away.
He did not need to ask; the amused look on the faces of both elves told him what he
already suspected. A group of dwarves was moving through the woods.
'What are your people doing here, Gimli?' Elladan asked.
He only shrugged for he knew not the answer.
'Surely they will tell us,' he mumbled and started to move in the direction from which
the sounds could be heard. To his slight surprise the elves did not protest but merely
followed him, letting him take the lead.
With conflicting emotions Gimli walked towards his own people. Disappointment he
felt, for they were not what he had been looking for, as well as relief of meeting his
own kin. Although with all the noise they made, he could not help but wonder if their
assistance was really desirable. For the first time he realized he was indeed grateful
for the twin's presence and did trust their abilities to aid him in finding his elven friend
far more than those of his own people.