It was dark outside when Legolas next came to.  He was sitting, bound against the wall of his cell.  He was still gagged, but the pain in his body had subsided some, and he could move a little easier then he'd been able to before.  He tested the shackles that held him, but they were strong, and would not give.  On the chains, he systematically tested each link, searching for one that might prove weak.  But the chains too were strong, new and shining, untouched by rot or rust. 

It makes sense, he thought to himself.  My capture was no accident.  Whoever did this had everything planned well, and knew where to look for me.

But just who the mysterious cloaked man was, Legolas could still not tell.  In vain, he ran the voice over and over in his mind, but if he had indeed known that voice before, it was too twisted and evil now to rightly remember the original sound of the voice. 

Instead, he turned his mind to thoughts of rescue, but his heart sank even lower than before.  Even if his absence had been discovered quickly, his captors had moved fast and had left behind a challenging trail.  And even then, the trail had passed into rocky terrain for the last part of the journey.  It could take weeks before he was found.  Legolas swallowed hard.  By then he might be dead.  And judging from the fact that he'd had no food or water since his capture, that option seemed frightfully possible.  He shivered a little at the thought.

A cool wind was blowing through the few slits in the wall that provided air and light into his cell, but he hardly noticed.  Fall would be turning into winter soon. 

All night he sat in his cell, never changing his position.  Occassionally, he would hum an old familiar tune from his childhood days.  It reminded him of a happier time – before he'd left Mirkwood, before he'd learnt that the One Ring had been found, before he'd watched some many innocents die in battle.  It was a time when the world had been safe and secure, and he'd spent his days roaming the forests of his lands with his elven friends, living almost carefree in a way, but yet always involved with helping his father with affairs in the kingdom.

A sudden slam of a door behind Legolas shook him from his thoughts.  As far as he could guess, the door at the top of the steps behind his cell had closed, and his captor was coming down the steps.  He could still make out the side of the door warden standing guard to the right of the cell door.

"Open it up," came the same chilling voice from before.

The metal door creaked open; the hinges were in want of oil.  The figure entered with two companions.

"Undo his confines."

The manacles about his wrists and neck were loosened and removed. 

"Take his tunic."

Roughly, Legolas was stripped of his tunic, and was left wondering what evil would befall him next.  His tunic was given over to the leader by one guard; the other held out a quill and sheet of parchment to Legolas, who was still bound by the ankles.

"Good," said the leader.  "Now then my young prince, take this quill and write down exactly what I tell you to.  Just my little way of insuring that your daddy believes that I do indeed, have you."

Legolas hesitated for a moment before taking the two items that the guard held outstretched to him.  He received a knee to the stomach for his hesitation.  When he could stand again, he took the quill and paper.

"Excellent. Now then, I want you to write the following, in elvish or the Common Tongue, which ever pleases you more.  You will write exactly what I tell you, no more, and no less.  If I see even a single stray mark that I did not authorize, you will be sorry.  Do you understand?"

Legolas said nothing, afraid to provoke the form before him.

"I said, do you understand?" 

The cloaked being kicked Legolas in the back of the knees and twisted his hand in the elf's blonde hair, yanking backwards until Legolas finally choked out an "I understand."

"Good, you're beginning to learn."

Quickly, Legolas was forced to transcribe a message to his father, stating that he was being held captive and that the best thing for him to do would be to meet all of the demands made in the ransom note that would be sent along with his own.  He signed his name to it, and the parchment was grabbed from his hands.  The door warden turned to give it to his master.  But as he received it in his hands, a sudden clanking of metal turned the attention of all three towards the door.  Another figure was carrying Legolas' weapons, and one of his daggers had fallen from its' sheath and fell clattering to the floor.

That's when Legolas saw an opportunity.  The keys were hanging on the guard's belt, and were just within reaching distance.  If he could act quickly, he could seize them, hide them in a boot, wait until the guards left, and make his escape.  He reached out towards the keys, but the leader turned around sharply, and realized at once the elf's intentions.  A strong grip grabbed his wrist.

"Fool!  What did you think you were doing?  Did you think you'd try and escape?"  A hideous laugh filled the chamber.  "Now we'll just have to teach you a lesson."  The leader nodded to the guard with the keys.  "Unchain his ankles and lead him to the Screaming Room.  You," he motioned to the other as Legolas was being released, "take his tunic and boots.  Bind them with his weapons and the notes.  Send them along to Thranduil as soon as you are finished."