*sighs* I have just spent the last four days baby-sitting my two baby cousins. Four days of diapers and drool and screaming. And I swear, if I see the Wiggles one more time I will scream. But the worst part was, no computer. No internet, not Microsoft word. I had to write my story out on this weird flat stuff called paper. It was horrible.

And just for anyone who was still wondering, that leather thing with the ball from chapter 10 was a gag. And it wasn't my invention sadly. I'd love to take credit for it, but I read about said instrument in a book. I don't remember the title.

'Leaves of Glass'

Chapter 12 - Murderer

Legolas paced restlessly across his tent as far as the chains would allow. The men were packing. Torlin had come to retrieve Strider. They would be leaving soon.

His body shook with emotion as he walked back and forth, back and forth, his mind tumbling over a thousand thoughts. There had to be a way. Any way. He could not do this.

He stopped pacing and held perfectly still. He breathed deeply, his eyes sliding shut. He sunk down into himself; became aware of his fae, his spirit. Like a bright light it shone with the radiance of the Firstborn, of his immortality. He tried to extinguish the light.

He let out a primal scream when it failed once again. He could hear far off laughter, echoing through his mind.

He sank to his knees, his hands wrapping around his head, pulling at his tangled hair. He rocked back and forth on the ground, deep, ragged breaths pulling through his lungs. He could not do this. He had to stop him.

'You are weak.' The voice whispered through his head. He had not heard the hated whispering in many weeks. Not since he had learned of his fate. But now, when he was vulnerable, breaking, it returned to chip at his tortured mind.

"I am not weak." Legolas sneered, the lie sounding false even to him. "You cannot hurt me."

'You are weak.' It said again. 'You are death.'

"No."

'You will kill them.'

"I will not."

'You will make them beg as you have. You will make them crawl as you have.'

"Stop it."

'They deserve to die.'

"Stop it!"

'They should have come for you. But they didn't, and now you will make them pay."

"Leave me alone!"

'Murderer.'

"NO!"

*

"This cannot happen!" Strider seethed, barely keeping his voice under control as he stuffed Torlin's belongings into boxes and bags. "We must do something!"

Torlin carefully folded the bed sheets and laid them in a box. "The only thing you can do is to release him from the poison."

"I don't know how! Damn it, Torlin, tell me what to do!"

Torlin pushed a thin pillow into the box. "I do not know."

Strider whirled around, his eyes narrowed in anger, his chest heaving with his breath. "Who are you?" He demanded, moving so that he was a scant few inches from Torlin's weather-lined face. "Why are you here? Why are you so important to the Arandant?"

Torlin stared back at him with milky eyes. "You know why I am here."

"They can find another potion maker. Why you?" The old man moved to stand from his stool but Strider blocked him, forcing him to sit, to look at him. "Why you?"

For a moment the old man said nothing. Then, "Because of who I was."

"What do you mean?" The Ranger took a small step back, some of his anger disappearing to be replaced with curiosity. This old man was just as much of a mystery to him as the elf was.

"I... The king keeps me in this... prison, making his potions, forcing me to enslave these innocents... in mockery of who I was." He stood, firmly pushing Strider away, crossing to the other side of the small tent. "I was the... advisor, to the king."

Strider turned, following his movements with sharp eyes. "The king of the Arandant?"

Torlin turned back to him but his eyes looked past him, to some distant thing. "No." He said softly. One wrinkled hand reached out for a chair and he sat slowly. Strider thought for the first time that he looked old. Truly, old. Not under pretense.

"No." The potion maker continued, his murky eyes finally coming up to meet Striders. "I was advisor to the king of Gondor. Your father."

*

Legolas' lungs burned. He had not moved this much in weeks. He forced himself to still his breathing as he watched the cloaked men from the shadow of a wagon. Lifeless slaves passed him, carrying bags, loading horses and carts, tearing down tents.

He spared them no glances, but they lingered at the back of his mind, the thought of their plight burning like salt in a wound. He thought of Strider.

But even his life meant less, far less, than that of his people. He would sacrifice the Ranger, and the slaves, if it meant his people would go free. He would sacrifice his own life. And so, when the men had removed his chains so that they could bring him to the king, he had run. For the first time since being brought to this wretched camp he had tried to escape. And failed miserably. For even a warrior of the Eldar cannot out fight an entire army.

His arm burned where he had been sliced by a knife and is left knee ached with the lingering feel of a swift, powerful kick that had tried to unbalance him. They were not trying to kill him. Because to kill him would be to kill their king. But he had hoped, for he knew that he would not escape, that he would take one of them by surprise. That someone would make a mistake.

But they were too well trained, or too fearful of the wrath of their leaders, to make a mistake. An attempt at throwing himself on the blade of one man hand ended only with the cut on his arm. And now he was exactly where they wanted him to be, where they had chased him; at the wrong end of the camp. He was on the opposite end from the forest. He would never escape now.

But he would not give up. Another troop of men raced past his hiding place and then he quickly ran towards the edge of the camp. If he breached the camp and made the fields behind, would they become desperate enough to use arrows?

He heard a shout go up and cursed. He increased his speed, his knee screaming beneath him as his legs pounded towards the green meadows. He dodged slaves and horses and wagons as quickly as he could. He jumped over a burning fire, the orange flames licking at his boots.

Around a bend a man stepped out from behind a wagon, his hands reaching for him. Legolas spun away and tried to dodge between two horses but the man lunged for him, wrapping his strong arms around the elf's legs, bringing him to the ground.

Legolas landed with a thud, the air rushing from his body as the man landed on top of him. His vision swam for a moment; he gasped breath back into his lungs. And then he struggled, kicking out with his legs. His heel came into contact with the man's shin. The man grunted and loosened his hold and Legolas tried to dive away from him but another man came down on him, crushing him to the ground.

The prince felt the rough scrape of rope on his hands and jerked away from the man. He kicked out again, his foot colliding with an unseen target. He screamed when powerful fingers wrapped around his wounded knee and twisted. He heard the clinking of chains.

'Murderer.'

Legolas screamed again, a piercing cry of rage and desperation and used all his strength to twist in the men's strong holds. Free to see his targets his hands shot out and collided with two startled faces. The men fell back, hands clutching at their faces, blood pouring from broken flesh.

Legolas leaped into the air, landing on his feet, his knee shaking, nearly sending him to the ground. But he kept moving, kept running for his goal. Another group of men raced into his path and he dove to the side, rolling under a wagon and speeding on. He could barely hear the ruckus of the camp over the roaring in his ears, barely tell what was happening around him anymore.

He hurdled another campfire, felt hands reach for him as he sailed through the air. He landed in a spin and kicked first one, then another attacker away. He heard the hiss of flesh meeting fire but ignored it as he sent an elbow into the gut of another man. Another went down with a bone shattering punch.

More hands grabbed at him; he lunged forward, away from them, and climbed the side of a wagon. He leaped from the top and landed on the other side; pain shot up his leg from his knee.

He had made it. There was nothing but green fields spread out in front of him.

And as time seemed to slow down at his victory he heard, over the pounding of his heart, over the sound of the air racing past his ears, over the shouts of the men in the camp...

"Stop."

Calm, composed, almost lazy, the voice of the king reached his ears. And he obeyed.

His limbs stopped moving in an instant. He felt his body teeter, his breath slow. Then, as if he were watching himself in a dream, he saw the king ride up beside him on a gray warhorse. The dark man leaned down, casually, coolly, and pulled his unresponsive body into the saddle, a protective arm around his waist.

"You cannot leave yet, my prince." The dark man said, soft laughter floating past the prince's ears. "I still have plans for you."

'Murderer.' The voice whispered as Legolas was ridden back to the center of the camp.

*

"You knew my father?" Strider whispered, suddenly finding it difficult to stand, see, think. He grasped blindly behind him for the stool and sat down quickly.

"Yes." Torlin said, his gaze falling to the floor again. "I was with him when he died."

Strider shook his head slowly. "How... I... tell me. Tell me everything."

Torlin sighed and closed his eyes, taking a moment to catch his bearings. "He was a good man, your father." He said fervently. "You are a lot like him in many ways. Your loyalty, for instance. He was leading the orcs that killed him away from a camp of wounded men. He knew it was he that they had come for. A great company of the Dunedain had just fought against a larger company of the foul creatures and many had been hurt. Your father, along with myself and several others were leading them away when we were surrounded. They killed your father and two others, and took the rest of us to be sold. The king of the Arandant recognized me, for we had had dealings with them about their invasions into passive territory. He bought me for my knowledge, but mostly out of spite."

"That is why I recognize your accent." Strider said softly, almost to himself. "It is from Gondor, like my father."

Torlin nodded. "This is why I believe in you, Aragorn."

The Ranger shuddered at his true name. He stood from the stool and began to pace. "I wish nothing of that life." He hissed, shaking his head earnestly. "I do not want to be king."

Torlin stood and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Whether you wish for the throne or not is not the point. Not yet, not here. You are still your father's child and that is why I know you can do this. In you runs the blood of kings, Aragorn."

"Yes." Strider hissed, pulling away from the old man's hold. "And their weakness as well."

"Would you let your friend die because you fear what you had no control over?"

Strider said nothing. A horn blew somewhere in the camp. "We must leave." He whispered. Then he picked up a box and walked out of the tent.

*

Legolas watched the trees as he rode through the forest on the back of a dappled mare. His bound hands were concealed by a soft elven cloak and a command of silence from the king kept his mouth tightly closed. The king, sitting atop the warhorse, rode on his left; a captain dressed in fine clothes was on his right.

"It is an interesting kingdom you have, my prince." The king said, his eyes wandering through the dark trees. "So dark, yet so beautiful." Legolas turned his head away, glaring into the shadows. "It will make a strong hold for my armies. We are near the middle of the forest now. The Anduin and the Misty Mountains lay to the West, Rohan is much farther south." Legolas sneered, a snort of contempt showing his offense at being told where in his own kingdom he lay.

"My men are going around the North end and will enter the forest through the head once you have established your kingdom." The king continued, ignoring the prince. A wave of cold dread washed through the elf.

'Murderer.' The voice whispered again. And Legolas prayed for death.

*

"My lord, please, you must leave." Avarilas pleaded, his eyes imploring, begging the king to listen to him.

"No." Thranduil said, glaring at the guard. "My son is in danger. I will not abandon him."

"My lord, the message said that it was you, not Legolas that was in peril. Please."

Thranduil shook his head forcefully, his long braids swinging. "And who else but Legolas could have told the trees of the danger?"

"Anyone who knows how to speak Sindarin." The king's oldest son said from the windowsill he sat in. "Avarilas speaks wisdom father. Perhaps we should listen to him."

Thranduil stopped at his desk and slammed his palms on the hard surface sending a stack of papers fluttering to the floor. "I will not leave your brother!" He shouted, then he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "I cannot loose him again, Lindelen. Not again." He looked up from the desk, his icy blue eyes meeting with the identical pair of his son's.

"You go." He said softly. The statement was a command from his king, not a request from his father. "I will not loose you either. But I must stay."

Lindelen nodded briskly. He stood from his perch and crossed the room, kissing hid father before leaving the study, dragging Avarilas with him.

"You cannot-"

"I'm not." Lindelen hissed into his friend's ear. "My father told me to go. But he did not say where."

Avarilas gave the prince a suspicious look before following him down the hall. 'This is not going to turn out well.' He thought.

To Be Continued...

I thought I'd give you a long chapter for once. It probably won't happen again. :) And how did everyone like the little gollum-schizo argument?

Until next time!

Adrienne

To my dearly loved reviewers -

Kimaree - I don't mind you using my e-mail. That's what it's there for. And just FYI, you were actually my 200th review, just, not according to ff.net. *hands you a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies* Thanks!

WakingDream - You were my 200th review (according to ff.net)! *hands you a plate of home made chocolate chip cookies* Thank you! And you were quite right. I live approximately 2 hours give or take from the Pacific Ocean. And I would have had you beta this chapter (cuz it would be cool to have my very own beta), but as I said in the author's note, no internet! Ach! I'll try really really hard to get this one done BEFORE Sunday so that you can beta it for me.

Bec - You dear sweet flatterer. The best? Are you sure? I doubt it. Top 5 maybe, but not the best.

Autore Kozoma - A paper-cut? Hmmm... lol. Uh, no. And yes, there have been many before you (203 to be exact *grins*), but I'm always glad to receive another review. Thanks!

Templa Otmena - Yes, skim reading kinda takes all the fun out of it. I do that to books when I really really want to know if someone is going to live or something like that, then I'm always disappointed cuz I didn't get the whole effect. And thank you for your crossed fingers, my internet, while not completely fixed, is at least letting me on for long periods of time again.

MG87 - In response to your question from your review for chapter 10, you know darn well when the sequel is coming. It's coming after the prequel which is coming after this one is ended which is going to be who knows when. And no worries, I will always update somehow.

Estel Elven Enchantress - You were number... *counts reviews before you* 205. And yes, nothing to worry about. *leaves to continue panicking* :)

tmelange - Thank you!

silvertoekee - My you ask a lot of questions. Sadly, I cannot answer them. Well, I suppose I could if I really wanted to but...

Gwyn - Me too. :)

Twinlakeshgrl - Yes, yes, short, I get it. Was this one better?

Jopru - Well, your wait may cease. Or, I suppose now it has to start all over again huh?

cherryfaerie - Ah, therein lies the problem. You're very observant.

Deana - I know. Aren't I mean?

MelayneBaggins - I love to be cruel though so it's okay. *grins*

Viresse0 - Well now, I can't kill him. He still has a quest to go on. And a lot more stories to be in. But yes, I will continue to torture him, thank you.

Elven Kitten - Thank you very much for you review!

Cosmic Castaway - Hey, I was torturing myself while writing that! Ah, such a lovely mental picture. *grins* And yes, much with the torture. And yes, dominatrix. That sounds nice. *grabs leather suit and whip* I think I can find a use for this. And do you see this? *points at legal looking document* This is a restraining order issues by the government of Mirkwood. Prince Legolas says you have to stay away from me.

AllThatJaZZ1 - Your favorite? You flatterer. And yes, we always hurt the ones we love. Though, most people just prefer to stay with the emotional. I like the physical better. ;)

Allyrien Chantel de Montreve - lol. Your name is longer that your review. That's funny.

Kit Cloudkicker - Ah yes, my cliffhangers. How I do love them.

Elenillor - I don't care when I get them, just as long as I do. *grins* And yeah, I'm all into the drama.