The Gondorians each held his own weapons ready.  Some had bows and to these, arrows were notched and ready to be drawn; others held bright swords in their hands.  Gimli gripped his axe and Aragorn held Andruil, the Sword That Was Broken.  Silently, they slipped down the stairs, torches extinguished, for here, the brackets upon the walls held ones already lit, and that provided them all the light they needed to see by.

Down, down, down they went and at the bottom, Aragorn halted them.  Noise could be heard, the shuffling of booted feet on the flat stone ground.  A chill air was about them.  Now voices could be heard.

"They are coming My Lord!  We must flee this place."

"Pack and make ready for departure."

"And the elf?"

"Leave him, it is not worth it to take him along.  He can no longer serve our purpose."

Aragorn's grip on his sword tightened.  He heard the slamming of doors in the distance, the echoes of which bounced off the bare walls.  The sounds grew fainter now, until all remnants of them had passed away.  That was when Aragorn stepped out from the shadows and entered the wide center room.  It was bare, save for a small table and a set of chairs.  Near it, a black stain covered a small portion of the floor. 

A solitary guard stood watch against the right hand side of the room.  He was robed and hooded, and did not right away sense the intruders.  But Aragorn rushed at him, a cry erupting from his throat.  The guard drew a long sword from a sheath at his side.  Metal met metal with a harsh clang.  Together they strove, each one dogging the other's blows and having their own efforts parried.  The men wondered at their King, for though they had all seen him fight the battle of the Pelennor Fields, or ridden with him to Morder to meet the Dark Lord head on, the fury at which he now struck was something that they had not yet seen.  For this was not a man fighting in an almost hopeless cause.  This was the wrath of a King against whom a grievous personal injury had been wrought.

At last, Aragorn feigned a blow and quickly pulled out of the maneuver to strike a killing blow.  Andruil sunk deep into the creature and its' black blood spilled over the ground.  He paused to pull the hood off and there he beheld a creature much akin to that which Legolas had seen laying dead on the floor a few days earlier.  He set Andruil back into its' sheath.

Now he pulled the keys from the creature's belt, but the room was dark and he almost passed by Legolas' cell door.  Fortunately, his wrath did not overshadow his wisdom, and he had the men check the perimeter of the room, after having them relight their torches from the ones in the stairwell.

To his front, a handful of men found the Screaming Room, and from it, they produced several devices that had the elf's dried blood on them.  Gimli's heart was enraged, but Aragorn made no sign.  A far off shriek was heard; more of the enemy was at hand. 

Now Aragorn was before Legolas' cell, and he bid his men to search the rest of the rooms, with the strict instructions to bring what prisoners they could to him.  The men rushed off, leaving Aragorn and Gimli in the main room, and the king unlocked the cell door.

"Faramir," he called out, before the man vanished through a dark doorway.  "Stay here with us.  Get me a torch from the hallway."

He was peering into the cell and could just barely discern a slumped object lying at the far end on the floor.  Faramir bowed and went to the stairs, taking a brightly lit torch from its holder.  Coming up next to his king, the three entered the cell, and a fear stole over their hearts at what they might find.  Closer they came, but the shape never moved.

Now the light of the fire cut the darkness around Legolas and all three could see his unmoving form.  Gimli's heart caught in his throat; Faramir stifled a horrified gasp.  The elf was lying facing the wall, partially on his back, partially on his side.  Blood was on the floor and wall.  Coming closer, they could see the mass of dirt and dried blood that he was covered in.  His eyes were closed.  His breathing was so shallow that they could not even see the rise and fall of his chest. 

Aragorn bent down, kneeling on the floor, and gently unlocked the shackles that had bound his friend to the wall.  They had been tight and had bitten deep into his flesh, leaving ugly looking wounds behind.  Aragorn tossed them to the side.

"Is he…" Gimli barely ventured the question and could not bring himself to finish his statement. 

Aragorn took the fragile body into his arms.  He checked for signs of life. 

"No, he is still alive, but barely."

Now Aragorn looked at the sword wound on Legolas' chest.  It was covered in a greenish black dried puss, and it stuck up above his skin by a few centimeters.  Aragorn inspected it closely.

"He's been poisoned," he said grimly, and yet his voice nearly broke.

Gimli's heart sank.  "Surely you can do something for him?"

"For this poison, I am afraid there is not much that can be done.  Not by me.  Would that Gandalf were here!  He might be able to do something for him, for this wound only a wizard can help, of any can.  It surpasses even the skills of the elves." 

He looked again at the broken body that lay silent and still in his arms.  Legolas' hands were covered in blood as well, for the poison had wrought him with racking coughs while he'd still been conscious.  He'd been coughing up his own blood.  Gently, Aragorn laid Legolas back down, and once again looked at his wounds.  Now he discovered his broken and cracked ribs.

"What did they do to you?" he whispered to his unconscious friend.  "I swear to you, you shall be avenged."  Turning Faramir and Gimli, he spoke once again.  "We must get him out of here and back to Gondor with all speed.  I will take him with me on Aord, and you two shall ride together."

He made ready to lift Legolas into his arms again to take him from that dreadful cell of stone.  But Harrasim, one of his men, came rushing back, calling for the king.  Aragorn called back and the man came into the cell. 


"My Lord, we have slain all the enemy, save for one that seems to be the leader.  The rest fought our warriors and so they were felled in battle.  None of us were hurt, but the leader we were able to surround and take as a group, and he dared not resist us."

"Very good.  Where is this leader?"

"Right outside the cell, sire, with the rest of the men."

"Bring him to me, for I greatly desire to see what sort of being has done such a thing."

They heard the grumbling of the figure as he was escorted into the cell.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Gimli roared, but Aragorn held out a hand to hold him back.

His men stood closely around the cloaked form, cutting off all chance of escape.  His hands and feet had been bound with strong chains.

"Remove his hood and let me look upon his face."

Harrasim drew back the hood and Aragorn, Gimli, and Faramir gave a collective gasp.  All at once they exclaimed as with one voice, "Boromir!?"