Disclaimer: I own nothing.
***************Chapter 42*****************
That morning, Legolas awoke with a start. He had been dreaming…and it had not been a nightmare. He had dreamt that he was home, and that it was the summertime. It was his favorite time of year, for the sun's rays penetrated the deepest places of Mirkwood during that season, and the spiders and other dark creatures often went into hiding during the day.
He had dreamt that he was hunting with his father…which was quite odd because he hadn't done that since he was a child. It was a good dream, but he had been torn out of it when he felt a cold blast of wind on his face. It had woken him.
Legolas blinked and his eyes came into focus. His first thought was that more light was shining through his small window that what was usual in the morning. Then he noticed something on the stone windowsill. Snow.
Legolas grinned. Perhaps the Valar had blessed him! Shaking Eressa awake, he spoke to her excitedly.
"Eressa! Look!" He said to her as she came out of slumber.
"What, Legolas?" She replied, sounding rather grumpy, for she didn't like to be woken in this fashion.
"It snowed, Eressa!" Legolas beamed. "Eredor was right."
"Eredor was right about what?" His young lover asked, rubbing her eyes like a child.
"He said that if it snowed, the games that were to be held in the new arena when Lord Haveth arrived could very well be cancelled!" Legolas explained. "We won't have to risk fighting!"
Eressa finally grasped what Legolas was saying and smiled. "That's wonderful!"
She hurriedly got up off the bed and tried to look out of the small window above her head, but she was much too short. However, Legolas followed her and then grasped her around the waist and lifted her so she could see.
"Is there much of it?" He asked hopefully.
Eressa grinned and bounced in excitement when Legolas let her down. "Yes! There is at least half-a-foot out there! Deeper in some places!"
Legolas smiled. Finally, he had a stroke of luck! If the snow lasted, then Curdolin would have to cancel the "entertainment" when Haveth arrived!
And perhaps I will not have to go and train today either…Legolas thought. He desperately wanted more time to clarify and further develop his escape plan.
Sure enough, in a few minutes, the sounds of the guards coming down the halls were heard. But not the sound of dangling chains and shackles. Legolas found it quite hard not to smile at Eressa when she was led away.
As soon as Eressa had left with her present, Legolas had ripped out all the things he had hidden under his crude bed. His bow was finished and polished, ready to be used. Although it was small, it would provide enough force to drive an arrow through a man's flesh easily. Legolas mentally winced at the thought. His experience in the ring had automatically made him want to be sick to his stomach whenever he thought of killing anything, if it were not evil.
Legolas scowled. But some of the men out there were evil. Unfortunately, they were not the ones he could fight, but the ones he had to serve. Curdolin and Angarod. Legolas wouldn't mind putting and arrow through their hearts.
Sighing heavily, Legolas counted the number and types of weapons he had carved using the boards from his bed. He had fashioned four sharp stakes, a bow of course, and then in one of the planks he had carved a simple handle at one end and left the other end as it were…it could be used as a club. That though encouraged Legolas, knowing he could use it and not kill someone. Of course, the same was true with the other weapons. But Legolas was comforted nonetheless.
Shoving the weapons tightly under the bed again, he took out his writing stone, and made another mark for today. December the sixth. Legolas's breath suddenly caught in his throat.
Today was Ithilion's birthday.
Legolas blinked at the thought that had come to him at such a late—and bizarre time. He had totally forgotten that his elder brother would have turned…what was it? Legolas thought for a moment, then his memory returned. 2,921 Ithilion would have been today, if he had lived.
Valar…Legolas thought sadly. He silently recited a prayer to his brother, and then his thoughts took a different turn.
He felt guilty for not remembering this day, especially now that his brother was dead. This guilt quickly evolved into hate for himself for living.
Ithilion, why did it have to be you? Legolas asked in his mind. You were so strong…you were my brother, my friend…I had faith in you once.
Since the day his eyes had seen his brother's demise Legolas had secretly though in his heart that the Valar had made a mistake. It could have been him. Should have been. But it wasn't.
The writing stone in Legola's hands dropped from his grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud…which to Legolas sounded oddly like a heartbeat. The sound echoed again and again in his ears. He felt a tear begin to form in his eyes, but he quickly blinked it away.
I've already shed my tears for Ithilion. He told himself. I must focus on other things…Eressa and Eredor are counting on me.
Then, Legolas realized something he hadn't before. Eressa and Eredor looked up to him in very much the same way he had looked up to his brother. They depended on him, as Legolas had depended on Ithilion. Legolas's eyebrows knit. But unlike Ithilion, he would not let them down…he would not let their faith in him fail.
A thin smile formed on his lips. The wind blew through the bars of the small window above him and ran it's finger's through his long, blond hair.
He would not fail, he told himself again. Even if the whole of evil would set their will against it, he would not fail.
*************
The next three days passed as Legolas had hoped they would—he was not taken out of his cell, and the snow had fallen again and become deeper. Eressa had brought word that the "entertainment" for Lord Haveth's birthday wasn't cancelled, but it also wasn't to be traditionally fought to the death—instead it was to be fought rather like a tournament—and no lives would be risked at all!
This news had a surprising effect on Legolas. He was actually looking forward to it on the morning of the third day. Eressa had noticed his excitement.
"This tournament—you think you can win?" She asked him timidly as he held her in his arms. They had both just awoken.
"Well…yes." Legolas replied honestly. "I believe I can."
"You are the only elf." Eressa agreed. "I wonder if you win, what you will receive as payment for fighting well?"
"I already have all that I want." Legolas replied honestly—again. But then his eyes became uncertain. "Except freedom." He clarified.
Eressa nodded, but said nothing more. "Just don't become injured. I don't want to have to sew you up again."
"I doubt it would come to that." Legolas said.
Just then, a sharp bang on the door made the both of them jolt. Eressa quickly pulled away from Legolas and stood up. The door swung open, and the guards entered, but they were not alone.
Angarod strode in, dressed more richly than Legolas would have dared to dress even in his own realm, a sinister smile spread across his disfigured face.
"Ready for the games, elf?" He asked. Legolas didn't answer. Angarod cocked his head and looked at Eressa…and in such a way that Legolas practically had to hold himself down to keep himself from attacking the man.
Eressa herself couldn't help but back a single step away from the man's stare. She quickly bowed and rushed past him to the guards, Malkor among them, who led her away. Angarod and Legolas were left alone.
"Well, I asked ye a question!" Angarod said, knowing exactly how to get on this creature's nerves. No doubt, he was succeeding, for the elf was giving him the most hellish glare.
"Well, come on then. Don't make me whip it out of you." He continued, placing his hand on his belt, on which carried a heavy whip.
Angarod delighted in watching the elf as his eyes went down to the whip and then back up towards him. Still he said nothing.
Angarod shrugged. Turning his back on the elf, Legolas felt his instincts scream at him to attack the man.
No! This is not the time! He screamed back at then in his mind.
"Hey! Fetch some irons!" Angarod leaned out of the open door and then turned back to the elf, this time his eyes resting on the wall, scrawled with some sort of writing.
"Been at work down here, have ya?" He asked with another smile. "Writing little prayers in your heathen language, no doubt. Stand up."
This Legolas obeyed, but not without silently cursing the man. Did he not know that if it were not for the elves, middle earth might as well not exist?
A guard suddenly rushed in, shackles in his hands. He quickly clapped them around Legolas's ankles and wrists, and then Angarod ushered them out into the hallway. Legolas couldn't help but wonder where they were taking them. Certainly they couldn't be leading him to any one of the arenas! They must still be covered in snow!
But Legolas's hopes dwindled as Angarod led them on. He recognized this route, it was the way to the new arena.
But no! The arena must be covered in snow! They surely will not make us fight in that! He thought.
His hopes were killed when they reached the staircase, and Angarod led then out onto the floor of the new, finished arena. The sandy floor…completely free of snow!
Legolas's eyes widened. There could be no way! He searched for a reason, and soon found one—high above him, he saw a work of architecture he would not have thought possible.
The arena had a roof! Or some sort of one…high above where the crowds were seated, there were many long, thick wooden beams…whole tree trunks no doubt, and between every other two beams there was a wide strip of heavy cloth suspended between then. The cloth acted as a roof and kept the snow out, except for a small hole in the center where the beams did not reach…where Legolas saw that there was a little snow. But certainly not enough to stop a the games.
Another thing that greatly surprised the elf was the size of the crowd in the stands. He could not see an empty seat anywhere—and it was winter. Would the spectators not become cold? What Legolas did not know was that great fires had been lit under the stands to keep the crowds warm.
He felt a jerk on his chains, and Legolas followed Angarod to another staircase, where the man led him down into a long room carved of stone and brick. There, he saw many of his fellow slaves…some he didn't know and other's he did…surrounded by weapons of many sorts and sizes.
There were also guards…each brightly decorated with sheets of armor across their chests and a headdress made of red-dyed feathers. Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Angarod smiling at him.
"Today's a special day for your kind, elf." He said. Legolas blinked, and he continued. "The slaves, you idiot, not your elvish friends."
"Today's the day where you get to choose your own weapon." Angarod continued. "Choose wisely."
With that and another ugly grin, the proud trainer left. Immediately Legolas scanned the room filled with slaves for Eredor. He saw him at the far end and made his way there.
"Eredor!" He called. "The snow! It's gone!"
Eredor turned to him with surprise. "Yes, I noticed that too. It seems that our hope has failed again."
Legolas's eyes became bright as a fire in that moment. "It hasn't failed. This is just a tournament. No one will die…or so I heard."
"I know. I've been in this kind of tournament before." His voice was grim and dark. "Eressa told you?"
"Yes." Legolas said. "What's the matter then?"
"It's…it's the outcome." Eredor answered incompletely.
"What outcome? What is it?" The elf asked eagerly.
"We have this kind of a tournament once a year." Eredor began explaining. "Usually it's in the spring, but I suppose Curdolin decided to have it early this year."
"What is it that you are trying to tell me, Eredor?" Legolas asked flatly.
Eredor blinked and asked his own question. "Legolas, do you think you could win this?"
Legolas was startled at the question, even though he had been asked it before. "Why…yes."
"Eressa didn't tell you what reward you would get if you did." Eredor realized on his own.
"She didn't know." Legolas told him. "Please, Eredor…what is it?"
Eredor looked at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope, fear, and uncertainty. He moistened his dry lips with his tongue and then opened his mouth, and spoke a few words Legolas had never dreamt of hearing.
"Legolas…the man that wins this tournament wins his freedom."
*****************Personal thingy*************
I know I promised this chapter would be longer, but I really liked the ending here! I'm sorry! *feels bad*
Also, I didn't have the time to write replies to you guys this week—There were too many choir rehearsals (our concert was this week), and I'm sorry! I'll have them back up next week, I promise! *feels really bad*