I'm terribly sorry, but as it is already very late and I must get up very early, I will not be responding to all of your lovely reviews. Anyone who asked me a question in their review, I will answer your questions at the end of the post.

I would like to say before I go though, that I appreciate you all dearly and that you brighten up my life with your support. I will not be making a habit of this, I promise.

" Leaves of Glass "

Chapter 7 - Life-Lines

Legolas sat silently outside the open door of the tent, his head back, watching the stars as they appeared one-by-one in the blackening sky. Ereandil shone brightest of all and the elven prince watched its slow track across the sky as the hours passed. With so much beauty in such a simple thing his heart was gladdened. But he sent no prayer to the Valar this night. They did not watch over their wayward child.

Two men, cloaked in black, stood on either side of him. He had found them lying lazily in front of his doorway when he had emerged to watch the sun's descent over the distant mountains. And for hours now they had stood stiff, tense at attention, their weapons clasped in white-knuckled hands. They dared not risk their king finding them so inattentive to the brooding prince.

Legolas allowed a languid smile to spread over his dark lips. He would play their games.

In the dark of night he held such confidence as had eluded him during the daylight hours. Elves were far more powerful than Men at night.

But he held no delusions of escape. No. As he sat on the crushed grass, watching the stars in their ethereal dance one small thought was scratching at his mind like a wounded fox caught in a trap. But this fox he would not let escape. He would not let it consume him. Not yet.

Pain and death seemed so far from this place.

Legolas stood, another smile turning his mouth as his guards turned in time to meet him, barring his way of escape. He saluted them with a mocking smirk and turned gracefully on his heal, back into the tent. He knew well his boundaries and would not cross them.

Once inside the tent he sat again on the thickly covered bed and stared down at his hands. Blood was seeping from the wounds again, staining the dirty wrappings with his dark life-force. He thought of Strider then, wondering what had befallen the Ranger. Wondering if he was alright.

The dark man had said he would not be pleased once he finally saw his... whatever they had become.

He refused to allow the word 'friend' to enter his mind. An oath sworn to himself long ago would not allow it. And yet... he did not despise the boy as he once did. He had saved his life in the woods, knowing what a danger it could have been, and had aided Elrond in healing him when he was helpless in his grief.

But the child was still human, despite his good qualities. That alone would take an act beyond measure to redeem him in the prince's eyes. He could hear muted whispers outside the thick cloth of the tent and the fox scratched at its trap. His body froze and his eyes slid warily to the slowly opening door. His heart beat faster than the wings of a bird and his breath shortened.

Strider walked through the open flap carrying a tray heavily laden with food. Legolas breathed again.

"It seems you have more freedom than I." The prince said bitterly as Strider placed the tray on the table beside the bed.

Legolas expected a harsh reply, or at the very least an explanation. But the lean young body turned mechanically and the once bright and cunning eyes were dull. Lifeless. The Ranger stood silently, his vacant stare penetrating the thick air between them. He made no movement beyond the act of taking air into his lungs. His eyes, great gray eyes that shone sliver in the lamplight, did not blink.

"Are you happy with what you see, my prince?" Asked the voice that ran Legolas' blood cold. He spun around to meet the eyes of his darkest nightmares.

"What have you done to him?" He asked, pulling his gaze away from those deathly dark eyes. He turned to look at Strider once more, but he did not turn his back to the man. The young human stood still as stone, eyes lost, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. He nearly looked dead in his pallid state.

"He was given the same poison I gave you. It affects the race of Men a little differently." The dark man explained. He entered the tent completely, a dark gloved hand pulling the curtain shut behind him. Slowly he walked across the room, circling the elf who kept his eyes on the floor at his feet. He would not panic, he demanded of himself. He would not be so weak.

'But you are weak.' The feather-soft voice sounded through his head. And Legolas thought for a moment that perhaps it was the man who entered his head and toyed with his thoughts. Who knows what dark magic he may possess? But the voice was unfamiliar; not the dark, evil-laced voice of the man that sat on the desk, staring at him with burning eyes.

Legolas said nothing, waiting for the dark man to make the first move, the first mistake. The prince would bide his time. He had all of eternity. He could spare a few minutes, or days, or more on this man's games. The fox scratched. The voice laughed.

'In his hands, you have no time.'

"The poison I gave you has a rather interesting effect, does it not?" The man asked, from his perch on the desk.

Legolas suppressed the smile that threatened to come. An impatient man was a foolish man. "I know not what you speak of." The elf said lazily, his eyes wandering over to Strider's still form, looking him up and down, mild interest written across his porcelain face.

"Sit down." The man said, his voice laced with a command. And before he realized what he was doing the prince was sitting on the bed, his bandaged hands cradled in his lap. His eyes widened in surprise. He looked down to the floor and saw that Strider had sat as well, folding his legs beneath himself where he had stood. His eyes stared at nothing still.

"Pathetic." The dark man muttered, his eyes also on the young human. "As one of the Dunedain his mind should be stronger. The command was not even directed at him."

"Indeed, that is an interesting effect." Legolas said, straining to keep his voice steady, cool. There had been no such poison when last he had been a prisoner of the Arandant. "And what, may I ask, will this do for you? Beyond commanding me like a beast I see no gain in this." The fox scratched frantically.

"Then I am afraid you are not as smart as I first believed you to be. How sad." The man stood and crossed the room in several long strides. "You." He said, looking down his straight nose at Strider. "Leave this place. Go back to your master." The man walked around him, his presence of no more use to him and therefore unnoticeable, and picked up the bottle of thick red wine from the tray behind him.

The Ranger stood slowly, stiffly. Legolas watched him with sympathy. Poor wretch. But as the young human walked past the elf's place on the bed he turned his head ever so slightly and winked at the prince.

Nearly 3000 years of training kept Legolas from acknowledging the gesture in anyway. Most assuredly not with the utter surprise and hope he felt suddenly swell within him.

'Dunadan indeed.' Legolas thought. 'But why had he not told me of his heritage before?'

'Why would he trust you?' The voice coursed through his mind. 'You tried to kill him.'

"You speak in riddles, sir." Legolas said indolently, ignoring the voice much as he had done the past few days. "That bores me. I am no perianath; I care not for children's games. Tell me your plans. I can do nothing to stop them." (... hobbit;)

"My plans, dear prince?" The dark man asked, offering Legolas a clear goblet filled with red wine. The elf raised one slender eyebrow in disbelief. I will take nothing from you, it said. The man shrugged and drank from the glass himself. "My plans, are to have you, under my control of course, assume your father's throne. But for that your father, and his heir, your brother, will have to be dead. And who better to commit the act than the son and brother they love and trust?"

Legolas scoffed. "You think me so simple?" He asked, standing from the bed and pacing the room, his steps falling heavy but silent on the thick furs. "I would end my own life before I would harm my family."

"Yes. An interesting little skill you elves have. To be able to cut short your own immortal lives, simply by sheer will." He set the goblet down on the table and advanced on the prince. Before Legolas could stop him the dark man's hand was around his throat, his thumb pressing down dangerously on his windpipe. One simple push and he would crush it.

"But I am afraid that is no longer an option for you, my prince. For your life is no longer your own." He reached down with his free hand and pulled one of Legolas' bandaged hands to his chest. Legolas immediately felt the strong steady beat of the man's heart beneath his wounded palm.

Leaving the prince's hand where it was he reached for the other and placed it over Legolas' own heart. A moment passed, then Legolas' gasped and jerked away from him, pulling his hands back to his body, struggling in his tight hold. The man laughed, a dark, vicious laugh, that chilled Legolas' heart.

"You see, my prince." He said slowly, his voice placed with poisoned honey. "Our hearts beat as one. Your life is mine. For your blood has been mixed with mine and now you obey no one but me. Not even your own mind." He released Legolas' throat, tossing the stunned elf back onto the soft bed. The prince stared at the man with wide blue eyes, reflective pools of misery and fear, shining in the colors of the ocean.

The man sneered. "Our lives are linked now, for as long as you live. And as long as you live, I live. With this link I reap the benefits of your immortal life. But alas, everything has its price. For now that our life-lines are shared so is everything else. Happiness. Sadness. Joy. And pain."

The fox erupted from its trap like the fiery bursts of Mount Doom, releasing years of pain and fear of these twisted people into his frightened mind.

The man held his tanned hands up to where Legolas could see them, then he brutally dug his fingernails into the soft flesh of his palms.

Legolas screamed as waves of pain erupted from his hands again, his healing wounds opening once more as if new arrows made of heated steal had pierced the tender flesh. The man did not flinch. He dug his fingers in farther, twisting and scraping his nails across the skin. Legolas writhed in agony on the soft furs of the bed, his body starting to shake as his mind tried to pull him away from the pain.

But he could not go. He could not escape. The man would not let him.

After what seemed an eternity the pain started to reside, leaving the prince shaking, a rare sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. Blood had seeped through the bandages and was running down his arms once more, staining the bed and his tunic. But no tears left his proud eyes. That oath too, he would not break.

"Enjoy your night, my prince. For soon you have plans to fulfill."

Legolas finally passed into unconsciousness as he left the tent.

To Be Continued...

Well, that was an interesting twist. I didn't see that one coming. You know, this is really starting to frustrate me. Not knowing what's going on in my own story. For some reason this stupid story is coming to me one chapter at a time, and only one chapter at a time. I have no idea where this is headed. I don't even know what's going to happen in the next chapter. *sighs* I'm not liking this. Not at all.

Until next time!

Adrienne

silvertoekee - That is an interesting point, but the answer is no. The poison was put into their blood after the 'bad' Numenoreans left the 'good' Numenoreans. So Aragorn would be infected as any other Man. Perhaps I should explain that in the story somewhere. I'll have to figure out how. Maybe another history lesson.

Twinlakeshglr - I have no clue. And no, alas I do not. I have no more written than what you see now. Normally I try to stay at least 2 chapters ahead of what I'm posting, but that has not happened with this story so far. Grr.

Cosmic Castaway - Well, the whole 'golden cage' thing was really just a metaphor. And he's not leaving for several reasons. One, fear. Two, he's injured and cannot fight. Three, he has no weapons. And four, he's guarded as you now see.

Nikki1 - It has actually been my intention from the start to write a separate story about Legolas' past. It will be the next one I post.