Disclaimer: All facts and Characters related to Tolkien's works are his.

These Burdens We Carry

Chapter III - Burdens

Legolas moaned softly in Aragorn's grasp but he did not waken. Worry for his friend weighed heavily on the ranger's heart and he unconsciously spurred his mount on. Rivendell was but a few hours away and he was anxious for his adar to have a look at the elf. Legolas had been half frozen when Aragorn had found him and the ranger had had a hard time raising the elf's body temperature. There had also been that rather frightening moment when the prince of mirkwood had stopped breathing…

Now, his head lolled limply on his bandaged chest and he whimpered slightly as the pain of his wounds reached him even in unconsciousness. Aragorn murmured soothing words and pulled his friend closer, his brow furrowed with anxiety.

~*~

The orc wrapped its fist in an iron chain and spread its lips in a sadistic smile. Jeers and taunts rang through the air.

The helpless body of an elf lay quivering on the ground. His body shook with the pain of his being. His glazed eyes darted around the clearing searching in vain for some form of distraction; his gaze fell on his other two comrades. They lay limply on the ground, blood oozing from the torture the orcs had inflicted. Their bodies seemed like a hacked mess, the elf watching them was sure they were dead already. Their eyes were disconcertingly closed.

A cry of agony was torn from his lips as the metal clad fist connected with his ribs. He panted heavily and clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails tore through the skin of his palms. His limbs twitched with the aftermath of the pain.

Bruises over bruises, welts over welts. The repeated abuse was causing immerse damage. All he wished was for death to arrive quicker. He had long given up all hope of rescue.

~*~

Legolas' head tossed slightly against the white pillow. Tears trickled down his cheeks. His eyes flew open and his face contorted into a look of horror. A gentle hand pressed him down before he could sit up.

"Peace Legolas… you are safe now."

His wild gaze met the comforting faces of Elrond and his foster son.

"How…?"

"It is a long story … you should get some rest." Nodding tiredly, Legolas let his fatigue overcome him once again.

Aragorn made to sit down in one of the comfortable chairs in the room but at a stern look from his adar, reluctantly left his friend to refresh himself with rest and some food. The prince of mirkwood was in no danger now. Elrond closed the door softly after them.

It was only in their absence that the elf gave in to the overwhelming grief in his heart. His shoulders shook and he cried quietly, weeping unabashedly for his lost comrades.

~*

2 weeks later…

Aragorn headed down the corridor for Legolas' room. The elf's wounds were almost completely healed and Aragorn was going to ask him if he was up for a hunting trip.

The  room was empty. Aragorn cursed inwardly. He half wished his adar had not granted the elf permission to be up and about… it made it so much harder to track his friend down and Legolas was an expert at remaining hidden when he chose to.

There was only one place a wood elf would be at this time of the morning… Aragorn sighed heavily and exited the room, heading for the woods.

~*

Legolas' back rested against the smooth trunk of a tree. He had one leg stretched out before him and his whole posture suggested that he was at peace in this place. Only his eyes betrayed the turmoil he was feeling.

Guilt, sorrow, regret… the burden of his comrades death weighed heavily upon his heart.

The heavy foot falls of a man alerted him to the presence of another. He did not move and seemed to blend in with the trees around him even more. The foot steps neared and then moved away. He heard the person voice an annoyed curse and felt a little bad about not revealing himself. Aragorn only meant well after all. However, he knew he couldn't trust himself to face anyone.

Every time he looked into the face of another. His mind twisted their images into horribly tortured bodies much like the ones he had seen. These creations of his imagination were just as bad as the mutilated bodies of his friends and they plagued him so that he couldn't bear to look into the face of anyone and had taken to avoiding people.

He could hardly rest without those memories being awakened. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw… It was worst in his elven dreams. There, he found he could not escape the vivid images, much as he tried, they held him fast. Shadows were beginning to form around his eyes and his hands trembled faintly with exhaustion. He refused to allow himself to sleep. His tired appearance gave him even more reason to avoid others.

He had only let himself be seen briefly in the past week. Just enough glimpses by others so that they knew he was still around but not more then was absolutely necessary.

In his heart, he knew he couldn't keep this up. He knew he would have to face up to his grief soon, let the heavy burden of the dead go, but some burdens are not so easy to put down…

TBC…

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