Author: Mirrordance
Title: Escape
Summary: Aragorn is lost during a tour with the Rangers, and Legolas later finds him in Bree, without his memories & happily relieved of all his noble burdens, making the elf hesitate to bring him back to who he truly was.
* * *
PART SIXTEEN
* * *
They didn't have to walk very far. An orc had Legolas by the neck and pushed and prodded him unnecessarily as the elf led them to the burial place of the nameless boy's parents, hands bound viciously in front of him.
He had to admit that as they neared, he not only moved to keep Haldir and himself alive, he was also genuinely interested in discovering what this key was that the orcs so desperately desired. Was it vital to their evil master's wishes, or a wanting of their own? What was so important about it that they would go through so much bother for a pair of corpses? Legolas buried them and as far as he saw, they held nothing of real value-- then again, he never was one to search and steal from the dead. Either way, he had to find out. If it was something to further the dominion of the enemies of Middle-Earth, then it was something he had to both discover and take, before it reached the wrong hands.
A plan slowly began to form in his mind…
They broke into a small clearing, and he stopped walking.
"I think this is the place," Legolas lied.
The orc holding him pushed him to the ground, and surveyed the area. The rain made the soil beneath them soft and slimy, clinging to everything. Legolas certainly found this out first hand from his place there. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, and watched as another orc viciously put Haldir beside him.
It was the first time since the Lothlorien elf fell that he was placed within an arm's reach of Legolas, and the latter of course took advantage of the orc's preoccupation with the land to see how his friend was faring.
Haldir was pale, yes, and of all fearful things, his eyes were closed and dark-rimmed. It was difficult to see the severity of the wounds from beneath his tattered tunic, and because the rain fell and washed over them, he could not see if the blood-loss was truly copious.
~Haldir,~ he said to the elf softly, soothingly, ~If you can hear me, please open your eyes.~
Legolas took Haldir's hands with his own bound ones, and was relieved to still find them warm.
"On your feet!" one of the orcs pulled Legolas up brutally, tearing his hands from Haldir's slack ones. "You buried the corpses, you dig them out."
"Is that supposed to be fair?" Legolas scowled at him.
"Shut your mouth and do what is asked," the orc commanded, placing a rusted shovel between the elf's bound hands, "Dig. You know what will happen if you refuse to obey."
"I cannot work well with my hands tied," Legolas pointed out.
"You can work well enough," snapped the orc, pushing him again, sending him to his hands and knees, "We are watching you. And I am only wishing you would do something stupid, that I may at last slay you and your friend."
"You should find something better to do with your time," Legolas told him sarcastically, gaining his feet and securing his grip on the shovel.
"I'll begin by cutting out your tongue," the orc told him menacingly, "And I'll make you eat it."
Legolas' eyes narrowed in irritation. He would not be cowed. But if he got himself killed now, he will be taking Haldir down with him. Teeth gritted in suppressed irritation, he began to work.
* * *
Three feet down, Legolas confessed and told his captors he may have been mistaken after all.
He got another backhand to the face, and a kick to his stomach for his trouble. This was a part of the plan, he thought wryly, that he could have considered more.
Along their road here, he decided that he will not reveal the gravesite after all. Whatever was buried there was not for the orcs to take, and something he will have to see for himself when they are free. If they should ever be free…
This failure to reveal the location will of course have its dangers, and could ultimately mean death. Which was why he needed to give Haldir some time to wake and recover. He noticed the orcs did not completely disarm the unconscious elf; if Haldir was the kind of warrior Legolas felt he must be, there would be a dagger upon his boot, or somewhere within the folds of his clothing, as was typical of an elven warrior who lived and breathed the life of a gifted soldier. It was terrible training and negligence on the part of the orcs, but of course he thanked the Valar for this small measure of luck. He just needed to buy time. He just needed to keep the both of them alive long enough to have a fighting chance.
What he failed to consider, however, was that the more he delayed, the more displeased his captors grew against him. And the more time he bought for Haldir to recover, the more he was being punished and hurt. It would be a severely tragic waste of time and effort if he should be terribly incapacitated by the time Haldir could fight. If he recovered at all, which was an option Legolas absolutely refused to accept, refused to even consider. Things will not end this way for them. It could not.
"I think it is elsewhere," Legolas said quickly, "It was dark, and things look different now."
"Elves do
not get lost," one of the orcs said darkly, "and they
do not forget. You lie. We will kill the both of you right now!"
"We are obviously not as infallible
as you think," Legolas said, nodding pointedly at Haldir, "I think I know where the grave truly is."
"It had better be the right one,
this time," another orc threatened him, as he pressed
forward toward some other lie of a place, wishing Haldir
would hurry up and wake.
* * *
The first of Haldir's senses to return was that of hearing. And what he heard was enough for him to hold his ground and keep quiet, to keep from moving, keep from calling any attention to himself.
He was lying on his stomach on the cold, wet ground, he found to his dismay. And the rain refused to cease! His head throbbed, and he felt weak and sluggish. But he was alive, he was alert. Perhaps things weren't so bad after all. But of course, things could always get worse…
"I could have sworn that grave was right here," he heard Legolas say, and though he was relieved his comrade was still alive and apparently well, the punches subsequent to the announcement worried him, and the sound of someone falling dully to the ground.
Haldir heard the orc captain bark some orders to his men, dividing them into three groups. They will find that grave, sooner or later, he declared. And as for their captives…
"We are through being lied to, elf!" he screamed to Legolas as his men dispersed, "No more! You've just dug your own grave!"
Haldir tensed, and and his hand stealthily crawled towards the dagger concealed in his boot. If they had any sort of chance to spare their lives, it was this. The orc company has diminished, and they did not disarm him. His bout of unconsciousness gave his body time enough to heal for one great surge of fighting…
He opened his eyes to narrow slits, surveying the situation. They were left with just five orcs now. Curiously, Legolas was nowhere in sight, though Haldir felt his nearness. Opening his eyes a bit wider, he noticed a disturbance on the ground. The orc-captain was looking down upon it.
You've just dug your own grave!
The orc captain aimed his crossbow downwards.
In a flash of movement, Haldir gathered his feet and lunged at the orc, plunging the elven dagger deep against its hide. The orc roared in pain and surprise, and his comrades turned to Haldir with their own weapons raised.
* * *
About time! Legolas' heart soared, as he jumped out of the grave he dug on his second search, bearing his shovel and using it to hit the back of an orc who was otherwise preoccupied with Haldir.
Hands still bound, his weapon a dull, rusted shovel, he was distinctly at a disadvantage. But Legolas was a fighter, and it was certainly weapon, and chance! enough for him.
But five, heavily armed orcs against a pair of weary, injured elves was chance enough for them as well.
Grunting in dismay, Legolas fought to get closer to Haldir. The injury he sustained earlier was severe enough to render him incapacitated for hours, and therefore he could falter at anytime.
Along this short and perilous road to Haldir's position but steps away, Legolas was waylaid by an orc and his scimitar. He ducked the blade cleanly, but his shovel was not so lucky, and lost its head. He was now miserably stuck fighting with a rusted… stick! The shovel he lost was suddenly, comparatively a really, really lethal weapon after all!
Legolas jumped back, dodging a menacing swing, and collided into a hard wall of orc-muscle. To say the least, he was surrounded, unarmed and vastly unlucky.
He twisted to recover his balance and face this new attacker, but he was not quick enough to fend off the orc's blade. The sword cut through time and space, finding him and cutting through his skin and muscle as it plunged into his chest.
His mind blanked for a moment, overwhelmed by pain and disbelief. He took a shaky breath, and his turbulent eyes met the triumphant glare of his orc-assailant.
Never one to admit defeat, Legolas grit his teeth in determination, and kicked the orc away. His hands gripped the hilt of the sword still lodged in his body, and he drew it out quickly with an angry, pained and fighting cry.
Stumbling slightly, he caught his balance and swung wide, cutting the orc's throat by its own weapon, and swiveled to deal with the other orc still behind him.
With the last of his waning strength, he lunged at the orc and his stolen blade found its heart.
Legolas wrenched the sword free of the orc and stepped back, losing his footing and landing on the mudded ground on his knees, breathless and bleeding.
* * *
The last orc fell, and Haldir's gaze swept the field of battle and found Legolas kneeling on the ground, his pale hands resting against a wound on his chest, blood spurting from it and running with the scour of the falling rain.
He limped to the Mirkwood elf's side, and fell to his knees beside him.
~You certainly took your time waking!~ Legolas teased him with a wince, as Haldir gently pulled his hands away from the wound to look at it. It bled profusely, and seemed to have gone straight through and out his back. It was undoubtedly a grave wound, and one he knew was beyond his merely rudimentary skills of healing. It was already miracle enough that the blade eluded vital organs that could have ended the elf's life instantly if struck. But the wound was severe enough, and it will take the elf's life anyway, unless treated soon.
Haldir pressed at the wound himself, not finding the heart to reply. There would be no treatment soon, of course. They were alone in a forest, without horses, with little provisions, and he did not have the skills at all.
The blood seemed to spurt out in waves that matched Legolas' furiously pounding heart. With so much loss so quickly, that very heart would cease soon. Haldir knew with a sinking heart that there was nothing he could do about it. He knew there was nowhere they could go for help in time…
~Is it that bad?~ Legolas asked him earnestly, sighing a breath, as if it hurt him, and most likely it did, ~I see something in you I've never seen before.~
~What would that be?~ Haldir asked him with furrowed brows, wanting to regain his composure, wanting to return to the morning's previous lightheartedness, ~Kindness? Caring? Worry? Surprised to find I have a heart?~
~No,~ Legolas replied, meeting his eyes sternly, ~I see defeat.~
~Never,~ Haldir lied, taking his hands from Legolas wound. He used his dagger to free the other elf from the rope that still bound his hands, ~Press against the wound for awhile. Can you?~
~You yourself said I can do most things well,~ Legolas chided, though his voice was losing its strength, if not his charm.
Haldir tore at his cloak, though he felt it was fruitless to bind the wound with it, for the cloth was so saturated with rainwater that it could do little in staunching the flow of blood, so miserably soaked was it. Nevertheless, he tore strip after strip and bound Legolas' wounds anyway.
The Mirkwood elf sat patiently, swaying a little, saying naught. He was fading fast, and Haldir's own strength was waning from his own hurts. But he will give them this chance.
He pushed himself up to his feet, and Legolas looked up at him wryly, as if he was kidding, or perhaps insane.
~You know as well as I that we will not get very far,~ Legolas told him plainly.
~Well we are not just staying here to await a trip to the Halls of Mandos either,~ Haldir said stubbornly, ~Or if we are ever to do that, I will rather await it away from the stench of the corpse of an orc.~
Legolas smirked, ~That sounds fair.~
~Come now,~ Haldir said, leaning over Legolas and taking one of his arms, wrapping it about his shoulders. He pulled the other elf up, and Legolas aided him by pushing against the ground. His spirit was strong, and he did not complain, even if his body protested with a harsh cough.
Haldir waited for the coughing to abate, before the pair of them took their first steps forward.
TO BE CONTINUED…
