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Part 1 con.
Dark Thoughts
Present...
"Ada!" Elladan's cry echoed down the Hall of Fire as he searched for the elder elf, his father. Elrohir was on his heals. The brothers' dark hair was in disarray, a sign of a battle fought. Elladan called out for his father again. "ADA!" Elrohir mirrored his twin's cry.
The elven lord came around the corner. He was in no hurried pace. He seemed lost in thought. When he saw his son's he seemed to shake out of the trance he had been in and hailed them. His heart went into his throat, however, when he saw the perspiration on their brows and grime and dark orc blood staining their faces. Something had obviously happened. He finally stated the question he dreaded an answer to, "what happened?"
Knowing his son's, it was anything but good news he would hear. They used to be the perfect 'rangers', then came the young and rash Estel. It wasn't that the human could not be good at scouting and fighting when he put his mind to it, it was just he rarely did put his mind to things. He was a mortal child. He was as of late, the human had the freest spirit the father had ever seen. The elven lord knew that would all change. Elrohir had been that way many years ago.
Elladan looked at the floor, searching for the right words. The odd thing was, he did not really know himself. It had all been so fast. Elrohir looked at his brother and then went on his own inner quest of explanation. Finally, Elladan reluctantly met the inquisitive gaze of Elrond. "We didn't mean to... The orcs...it was an accident!" A sob erupted from deep within the elf's chest. If only he had been there. If only he had been there. Maybe, just maybe, the nightmare that he was living would not have happened.
"What was an accident Elladan?" asked the elven lord, but there was a sharpness in the tone of his voice as fear for what he did not know came through. Elrohir looked up at his father slowly.
"We lost Estel," he choked the words out. Elladan shivered a tear rolled down his cheek. Elrohir turned his head away. Elrond stepped back in shock. What had they just said? He heard correctly? Estel was lost?
"What?...How?" Elladan looked away. Elrond went to stand in front of his son. "How Elladan?"
"I don't know Ada. The orcs came upon us out of no where. They were many and fierce." His shoulders shook as another sob came forth. "Legolas and Estel got separated from us in the battle." Elrohir nodded seemingly to himself. The pain of their brother's capture seemed too sincere for them to understand. It was so real, it was unthinkable. They were supposed to protect their younger brother, they had failed.
Elrond closed his eyes as memories of his beloved wife flooded back. How her son's had been forced to rescue her from the clutches of the orcs of the Misty Mountains. It hurt like a wound to his soul. He could not go through the loss of another family member to the horrible torment of orcs. He just could not relive the pain again. Especially one as lively as the human had been. Even though he was not the elven lord's son by birth, he was in his heart. Estel was the hope of the world. Maybe there was no more hope for the world. Maybe it was time for them to leave Middle Earth.
Suddenly a thought crossed Elrond's mind. Where was Legolas? The elf prince would never leave the ranger's side. Where Legolas was, they would find Aragorn. Unless...no...Legolas could not be dead.
"Elladan, where is Prince Legolas?" Asked the elven lord softly. Elladan finally broke into a full weeping state.
"Oh Ada...he's dead." Elrohir leaned against his brother and fell into lamentation as well. Elrond's eyes grew large and he passed a trembling hand across his brow. There was no more Hope. For Middle Earth or their family. The father came and put his arms about both of his shaking sons to try and comfort both them and himself. Everything seemed false and unrealistic. The Noldor elves felt a deep fissure in their hearts that seemed like it would never end.
Ignoring the grime and hideous stench of the orc blood, the high elf grasped his sons tightly in his embrace. Their tears fell like rain on his velvet robe and elegant clothing, mingling with orc blood and sweat off their brows. For the first time in many years, the twin's cried. How could they even begin to explain to Thranduil the loss of his only child? As they thought of their friend, their tears grew greater in number.
Elrond did not really cry but tears came down his cheeks in silent rolls. The twins were beside themselves with anger and sorrow. They were there when Arathorn was killed. They had seen the arrow pierce his eye. They had seen his pale face of death. They had not prevented it. Then they remembered their mother and how they had risked everything to save her, and still she had left them. Now it was their younger brother who was gone. The thing that hurt worse was, they had not been there to prevent it. Failure lay heavily on their hearts.
All the pain of years past was hurled on them and the family felt weary.
Suddenly Elladan straightened up and pulled away. He was not going to weep and do nothing. He would die before he would say the orcs had won. He would not submit himself to living through another failure. Estel would die at the hand of the goblins over his dead and mutilated body. Elrohir looked at his 'older' brother. "Dan it's over. Middle Earth is doomed."
"No. Not yet. We can go and try to save him."
"Dan, they have gone to deep into the mountains. We can't. Do you know what they would do to us if they caught us?" Elrohir was not willing to go back to the horror he had seen in the caves and tunnels of the mountains again. Elrond looked at his children and backed away to observe the debate that would follow.
Elladan continued with his desperate plea. "Ada, if the world is doomed, what have we got to lose? Elrohir, I can't live through another family member dying like this. I would rather die trying to save our brother. Push fear out and let's go." If they failed to save the human, Elladan thought death would be more merciful anyway.
Elrond looked into the flames that danced on the hearth. Fire, he saw it, hot and consuming, filled with death as it swept over Middle Earth, draping it in ash and shadow, pain and fear. He could see Sauron's defeat of the world. He did not speak. He felt in a trance. His heart felt weary of lingering here, under the dying trees, destroyed by the growing evil, like a suffocating blanket, soon to cover all in shadow. A voice pounded in the back of his mind /Ada...Ada...Ada.../ He suddenly became aware f his dark haired elder son screaming at him. "ADA!"
Elrohir stood between them, staring in worry at his quiet father. "Elladan..." the elven lord sighed. "Middle Earth is doomed. We cannot prevent this. It is a sad loss but what is there we can do?" He looked at the flames as he spoke. His voice suddenly choked. "I will not lose you and your brother as well."
"Ada, I would rather die. Death would be more merciful than living in constant regret of knowing what I could have done may have prevented all my pain." The raven-haired elf sounded strangely serene and it gave a creepy seriousness to his speech. Elladan looked into the gray eyes of his father. Elrond looked back and the twin saw tears in the elder elf's eyes.
"Would you put me through the pain of losing all of my sons?" Elladan seemed at a loss for words. He did not know how to respond. Elrohir finally seemed to grasp his brother's perspective and will.
If his brother was going to die trying, so was he. "Ada, we would not happily put you through that pain. But we would be dead if we could not get Estel back, get Hope back. Without Hope, what is there left to hold onto?" It was a double message that the 'younger' Noldo gave. Elrond thought for a moment. Elrohir continued. "My lord, I would be honored to die for our brother and for Middle Earth. We cannot just leave it."
Elrond sighed with heavy grief. "Your cause is just but in my heart, I fear for it." His eyes flicked. "You may leave and attempt your mission, I dread what will happen if you should fail." In his heart of hearts, deep in his soul, Elrond knew his sons were right. He just wished there was another way.
Glorfindel came into the room and stopped short when he saw the mournful scene unfold before him. What had happened? His blue eyes went from one face to another, looking them over thoughtfully. He felt his heart sink when he did not see Estel or Legolas among them. "It's the prince and Estel...isn't it?" He did not want an answer, but he could not help but ask the question. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were fine. Maybe, just maybe there was something else that was wrong. He would accept a siege of orcs to Rivendell, if only his presumption was wrong and he read the signs amiss.
The Noldor family looked to the ground and a tear came down Elrond's cheek. It was then Glrofindel knew it. He knew Estel was gone. Where was he? The Gondolin elf felt his own face paling at the news. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he turned away.
Rivendell seemed less bright now. It seemed all of Middle Earth grieved. Everyone in some way or other, was mourning over the loss. They all felt the heavy hammer of doom hovering above them, ready to fall. One question weighed on all the elves' minds, was it over here? Should they leave and go to eternal peace in the West?
Aragorn lay on the cold ground. His head was still throbbing. The campfires of the orcs smoldered. Next to him, silhouetted against the moonlight, was the hideous form of his guard. Near him, so close that he could feel their breath and heat upon his face, were the sleeping figures of other orcs. Giving the guard a side long look, the human waited for a sharp response. Nothing. He began to sit up. Then, he stopped and waited for a blow or a screech. Still, not a single noise escaped the creature. It was asleep. Sitting up the rest of the way, he wriggled carefully between two sleeping monsters. He froze with alarm as one of the them stirred. /stay asleep/
He began to twist his fetters around, trying to loosen the extremely tight bonds. It was a futile attempt. The orcs had put the cords on well. Sighing, he looked around to make sure he was still undiscovered. So far so good-too good. Something was amiss. They would not sleep so well. Even his brothers did not sleep this deep and orcs were nervous and impulsive by nature. This was unreal.
He would use it while it lasted. What had he to lose anyway? One less beating to deal with? He did not care if he got bunches of them consecutively; he was going to go down trying to be free.
Cautiously, he began to stand up. Nothing came. He felt no cold hands reaching out to grab him nor fists pounding into him. The coast was clear. Staggering forward a few unbalanced steps, the human found that the beasts really were dead asleep. He was free. The woods nearby offered a small hopefulness to his situation. He began to walk slowly towards them, hoping against hope to be able to hide from those cruel captors.
As soon as his hands were free, he would find Legolas. He would not leave his best friend to be warg meat. He felt in his heart, that the prince was still alive. It was just an inner feeling that he could not push away. It was if the prince was there calling to him, 'I'm alive... I'm alive...'
This thought only served to spur the ranger on in his desperate quest for freedom.
He wished that Legolas was not suffering as he knew he was. Stupid elf! Why did he never look out for himself? As the ranger entered the woods, he heard a screech in camp, his absence had been discovered. The man knew that it would not go unpunished. He went deeper into the forest. He could hear the stomping of heavy boots and curses all around the camp. They were coming for him.
Past...
Aragorn ran along one of the many trails that twisted through the Misty Mountains. Perspiration dripped from his brow and stuck to his hair. His breath came fast from the exertion he was putting his body through. Legolas had been captured. He feared greatly for his friend. Goblins were harsh to elves more than any other prisoner.
They hated the fair beings. They hated their beauty, grace and speed. They hated the freedom of the elves, which were enslaved to no cruel master, like they were. Aragorn well remembered the stories that Elladan and Elrohir had told him of their mother.
He stopped his smooth pace abruptly. A dark substance was on the ground, it seemed to be crimson in color. Going over to investigate the matter, he panted to catch his breath. It was blood. His heart went down to his toes when he saw the silvery tint that only elves had in it. Legolas, what had they done to the prince?
Heavy tracks led further away. The elf's booted feet left no impression in the mud. Suddenly, the ranger's eyes caught the imprint of a even more weighted down creature. This elf had been carried this far, or at least that's how the man read it. He prayed to the Valar that they had not given too much grievous hurt to his friend. If Legolas would be unable to walk, he did not think he would have the strength to carry him. If the ranger had not the strength to carry him, they could not escape. What ever the outcome, Aragorn made a solemn vow, he would not leave his friend's side once he found him. He would not let them hurt the prince more while he drew breath. He began wearily to run on. He would be able to catch up with the orcs by nightfall.
Legolas felt his mind screaming at the pitch blackness that gnawed at his soul. A hard boot flashed by his face, as it kicked his side. It slammed into one of the welts were the lash of the orcs had curled about his middle. Stifling a cry, the elf looked fearfully up at his tormentor.
The orc smirked down. "We have a surprise for you my sweet." The creature cackled. "A new friend for you to meet." The tone of the monster caused the elf to shiver from more than the chill of the cave. The orc reached down and grasped a fistful of the prince's golden hair. Using his grip as a handle, he pulled the elf up to his feet. Legolas winced as the creature ran its thick, clawed fingers over his black and blue marks. He dug his nail into a fresher one that bled still. A new fire sprang up in the wound and Legolas hissed. The orc laughed even more. "You have yet to know real misery elf slug. We have so much more to teach you." Legolas stared at the goblin with blue fearful eyes, large and dull with pain.
The orc pushed the elf forward to get him moving. Legolas stumbled on the rough, rocky ground. He bit his lip as the orc liberally applied the whip to his back. He could feel himself beginning to shake. His breath came in deep gasps.
This was a time when the prince would gaze up at the stars for strength. In this deep orc pit, there were none. He had to face his black future with no hope. His future of slavery. Slavery in the sunless hole of monsters.
He entered a room with low torches burning. Blinking, he felt to be lighter of spirit seeing light of any kind again. He was suddenly shoved fiercely to the ground. As his knees hit the stony ground, the prince's leggings tore at the knees. He felt blood seep into his clothes as his scraped knees bled freely. Legolas caught himself from falling further by catching his weight on his bound hands. He bowed his head and his blonde hair fell around his face, hiding the bruises and paleness that erased the fairness it had once held.
Before the elf sat a great goblin. He was the biggest the prince had ever seen. In his brutish hand, he held a large whip. Hitting it against the palm of his opposite hand, he circled the slave. "What is this scum?" he growled, placing the tip of the lash under Legolas's chin and forcing him to look up into the scornful black eyes. Legolas's chin quivered.
"A filthy elf your liege." He nudged the prince with his foot, purposefully rubbing one of the black-blue bruises. Legolas hissed and twitched aside to avoid the contact with his damaged ribs. The head goblin chuckled coldly.
He kept the prince's face looking up into his merciless gaze. "What is your name elf snaga?"
Legolas kept his jaw clenched shut. He gazed defiantly into the eyes of the beast.
The orc backhanded him and when the prince turned his face back, blood ran from his nose and mouth. He growled in a low tone, "my name is Morband." The orc glanced around at his comrades. A laugh rumbled from deep in his chest.
"Welcome to the mountains Morband. We will make your stay worth while elf whelp." He eyed the elf over and his eyes fell on the muscles, stronger than that of men and most orcs when the elf was well. This elf could handle heavy amounts of work. Legolas put his eyes to the ground as he felt the calculating eyes flow over him. He hated the creature even more than ever for this emotional torment. He felt so exposed and weak under those evil eyes. He frowned when he tried to lift the elf's face up to meet his and the prince jerked his face away obstinately. Whacking Legolas across the face with the whip handle, he snapped, "take this elf to the darkest pit! Never let him see the light again! Make him hull stone and mine the silver, don't be afraid to let him feel the sting of the lash!"
Legolas's heart sank as low as it could go. It seemed to go past his feet and spill out onto the floor. A foot connected with the small of his back, lurching him forward. He cried out in pain as he struck the ground. The orcs were deaf to his cry and struck him with their whips. Rolling the slave onto his back, they wrenched him up by his bonds. Casting him forward they smiled cruelly. This was going to be fun.
Legolas was pushed and prodded down a steep incline with the orcs at his heels. A suffocating stench arose as he went deeper into the pit of the orcs. Darkness began to fill his mind. Closing and opening his eyes made no difference. He coughed as he inhaled the stale air. To an elf, this foul air alone was a form of torment. Suddenly he stumbled and caught himself on a wall of the tunnel he was descending. His hand felt something sticky and he yanked it away with a cry. He would recognize that feeling anywhere. Spider filth. He had never known there were spiders down in the Misty Mountains. With a shudder, he supposed that was because anybody who came deep enough to find out ever came out alive. He heard the monsters laugh. "Spiders there was long ago. They left and now their abandoned webs trap those who are unwary." The orc struck a torch alight the light exposed the tangled remains of orcs, trolls and dwarves.
Grabbing the prince by his shoulder, they shoved him deeper into the darkness. The air became so stale it was almost too thick to breath. Legolas panicked as he felt the heavy weariness of the dark. He stopped moving and dug his heels in, refusing to go farther. " I will not go any farther. You cannot make me," he choked as he tried to breath. The air was becoming hot and steamy and his tender immortal soul ached.
A hand struck him across the face and a fist slammed him in the stomach. Doubling over, Legolas groaned in agony. A thick paw snarled in his hair and jerked his head back to stare into the rough out line of an orcs face. The breath added to the nasty air suffocated him. "If you know what's good for ye, you'll not cause any trouble, see?" He smashed his fist into the already cringing elf's stomach.
Legolas could not stop himself and vomit came up. It was nothing but bile, for he had not eaten in two days since his capture. It was not because the orcs did not feed him. Legolas did not care for the things they gave. He did not trust the meat. He feared eating the flesh of men or some unclean beast. This was chiefly what he was given and he would rather starve.
The warm liquid spilled down the front of his neck and he gagged some more before regaining control over his stomach. His breath was coming in shallow puffs now. Perspiration glistened on his brow. It mixed with the blood of his nose and mouth wounds. The orc shoved him and the prince rolled into the dark. Suddenly he felt himself falling. Was he falling off the edge of an underground precipice? Fear gripped him.
He hit the ground with a solid thud. At first, he was afraid to move. Then he realized he felt no new pain form broken limbs or other bones. The orcs followed no further than the edge. One drew an ugly knife and grasped the prince's hands. Legolas waited for them to give him some painful gash but instead the creature sawed his fetters free. Legolas moaned as he felt feeling come back into his hands. The orcs set a torch in a holder on the wall. Then, they stomped out, slamming the cage-like door shut with a loud clang.
Legolas waited until he was sure they were gone, before standing up and placing his hands on the bars, he gripped them. He began to pace in his cell. The heat down in the dungeon was suffocatingly hot. The elf saw a pool of water in a sinking corner and was desperately thirsty. Yet, the elf knew this was more or less toxic. He tired in vain once again to pull his memories back, but everything was blank.
His own name he did not really know nor anything about himself or who his friends were.
As Legolas went to a darker corner, he saw a skeleton. Blonde hair still clung to the skull. It was the remains of an elf that had died in the chamber. Legolas backed up until he felt the cool of iron against his shoulders and knew he could go no farther. He slid against them in despair. He wanted to will himself away from here but he had no memories to pull to the front of his mind to cancel out his pain. He was alone in the dark world. These were his memories now, this was his life.
TBC...This was short too, I know and am sorry. Next week I will post again and it will be longer! Don't forget to review people! Thank you!