Part Six cont.
Crossed Paths and True Friends

Present...

Glorfindel, Ancú and Rothinzil were along the edge of the orc camp. The Gondolin elf's face was pale from blood loss, but his eyes sparkled with a fell fire of vengeance. The elves were all crouched in the bushes, intently scrutinizing the camp in search of Elrohir. They had to rescue the Son of Elrond. Glorfindel had vowed to do this if nothing else.

The orcs seemed to be in a dull mood, they were getting bored. This was not a good sign for anyone caught within their world. Rothinzil unconsciously shuddered. He had never really experienced battles or orcs, except when he was in a tree, concealed and out of harms way. Ancu looked at the Mirkwood archer and then back to the camp. Glorfindel looked at both of the younger elves and then furrowed his brows as he gazed through the brush at the lazy creatures beyond.

Ancú looked down a Rothinzil, who was crouched lower, for he was even more afraid. "So your Rothinzil?"

Rothinzil swallowed hard. "Yes, now shhhhh." He did not wish to be caught and he couldn't imagine the pain of elves, like his prince, who had, first hand experience was not exactly what he was looking for. The thought of what those miserable, cursed creatures had done to his friend made his blood boil to a new high.

Ancú smiled wryly. "Its alright, they are too drunk and asleep to hear us if we whisper." Rothinzil relaxed slightly at this. He really just wished the other elf would shut up.

"Well that's comforting," said the wood elf cautiously. He was not sure whether that was a good thing and was still contemplating it when his thought was interrupted by the Rivendell elf near him.

Ancú looked back to the camp and said, "not really. It means they are more violent." Rothinzil rolled his eyes. He was not that stupid, he was not very knowledgeable about orcs, but he knew that drunkenness only made them slower and stupider. But, on the other hand, it did also make them bore easily and he felt a soft pang of alarm go through his heart when he thought of the captives that were in the evil being's possession. The Mirkwood elf shuddered slightly and Ancú smiled wryly. He well recalled the first time he had seen an orc up close. He had been frightened too, heck, he still was.

Glorfindel looked up over his shoulder at them both. They were going to drive him into madness. The Balrog-Slayer sighed and said to the pair, "I can't even hear myself think, now will you two be quiet?" Ancú and Rothinzil exchanged looks and rolled their eyes. To them, Glorfindel was annoying.

He was so stiff, and yet he was always somewhat cheerful in bleak situations. Years of experience had taught him how to se and keep in sight, a spark of hope so faint, most would never see it as worth holding onto. Yet, the Gondolin elf knew what it was really like to be without hope, so he knew its value, no matter how small. When he had been more or less burned alive by the Balrog, he had not seen a speck of hope in sight, at least for living through the experience. He was not afraid of death; he thought the life after death to be wonderful and considered it a privilege and a blessing. As he thought more about it, he had been with hope then too, hope of a better life on the other side.

However, the Balrog-Slayer had to admit dingily that the situation was pretty dark. After all, the only other well elves were the quarreling pair that were about as experienced in these kinds of things as a sapling is to winter storms. He doubted not that they were good fighters. He had seen at least Ancú in action and knew well how Legolas could fight and Rothinzil was a Mirkwood elf, with a touch of western blood in his veins, like Elladan and Elrohir. This was a little puzzling, but there was no time to ponder it now.

Ancú stiffened and said darkly, "Lord Glorfindel, we are going to have to get them out soon, it is getting to be more dangerous by the minute." The golden-haired elf nodded and sighed with irritation. Rothinzil stared intently into the camp of evil animals, or at least, that was how he saw them.

"Yes," answered the elf lord, "We will have to get them out now or never. But how?" He looked over his shoulder at the two elves that were now standing uncomfortably by. Rothinzil stood on one leg and Ancú was staring at the ground that had suddenly become quite interesting to him. Glorfindel rolled his eyes, "so it is up to me, as usual. With you two around, I am lucky to get even a touch of rational thought." The Gondolin immortal glared at the pair of uneasy elves that were grinning slightly with the guilt of the accusion.

Ancú said, "well you certainly cannot fight Glorfindel, I mean with your arm and all, you have lost lots of blood," voiced the Rivendell elf with much anxiety for the injured Gondolin elf. He did not wish to go back home and tell his lord that he had allowed Glorfindel to fight despite his wounds and get killed. No. That was the last message he wanted to deliver. Although, it wasn't like he had much power over the Balrog-Slayer anyway.

Ancú had long ago decided that Glorfindel was uncontrollable and there was no way to stop him if he wished to do something. He had seen the golden-haired elf's dark looks before and wondered if he should pity the Balrog that had dared to cross the elf lord's path. At the moment, the question would have to wait until they were in the Hall of Fire and all was well.

Shuddering inwardly, Ancú thought of what would happen however, if their mission should fail. Though he hated to admit it, the immortal feared capture and torment more than anything else. He also was horrified by the thought of what he knew the orcs would do to the Gondolin elf if he was captured. They would be much more harsh on him, because of who he was. All of the evil spawn knew of the Gondolin elf whose wrath against the orcs of old during the Goblin and Elf wars was legendary.

Glorfindel spoke up against Anc's claim that he was too ill to fight. "I will be fine. Who killed the Balrog?" he asked with mock pride as he made an all too apparent point.

Ancú rolled his eyes for most likely the third time, though he was not keeping track. 'Sure, and who died with the Balrog?' he thought to himself dejectedly. Glorfindel seemed to sense the younger elf's thought and glared at the childlike elf blowing air upward in vexation. He decided that he was not even going to respond to the obviously immature elf. He turned all his thought to creating a 'master' plan.

The orcs were plainly drunk and a bit slow. If something occurred totally out of the ordinary, they might be confused long enough to allow a time gap for the escape of the captives. The elf lord doubted this however, for orcs, though cruel and not very quick mentally, were fast enough when it came to be suspicious.

Ancú looked at Rothinzil and said, "so you came for Legolas?" He was trying to find consolation in conversation. It wasn't much, but it was something to distract him from the disheartening situation they were locked in. As much as he hated to admit it, the Mirkwood elf did not seem as bad as he thought the other elf could be.

Rothinzil nodded, "yes. Why did you come?"

"My lord sensed trouble and sent me to discover it and if possible put an end to it, though with the plight we are in now, it looks like that is next to impossible," he stated wearily and as brief as possible.

Rothinzil looked sadly at the other immortal and said, "Really? Who is your lord? I must agree the situation looks bleak and is filled with despair. I have never seen such hopelessness and pain in my life."

Ancú looked completely shocked. This elf had not heard of Lord Elrond? He had never seen such hopelessness and pain in his life? What whole was he hiding in all his immortal life? How old was he? "I serve the Lord Elrond, but this is not as bleak as some things are. Where have you been? Valinor?" asked Ancú with a small smirk that was unstoppable, it was just too odd to hear this from an elf of Mirkwood.

Rothinzil blushed slightly and said sheepishly, "no. In Greenwood, we don't get many visitors and so we rarely have news from the outside world, save from the lake men and that is no more than rumors at best," responded the elf in a far away voice, thinking of his homeland. He missed it dearly.

Ancú knew what the Mirkwood archer meant and he felt sorry for this elf he had never seen before. He put a consoling hand on the wood elf's shoulder with a hollow grin of encouragement. "Don't worry, Glorfindel isn't overly smart," the speaking elf kept a sharp eye on the Gondolin elf. "But he comes in handy when it comes to these kind of things, experience in the Goblin and Elf wars," stated the Rivendell immortal with a dark, and perfectly arched brow as he cast a glance at Glorfindel to see if the golden-haired elf was listening.

It took Glorfindel a minute to come out of his deep thought and register what had been said. He pitched a sharp glare at the pair and growled, "funny, very funny." Ancú just grinned from ear to ear. Glorfindel rolled his eyes and uttered, "you think you're so smart don't you? How can you joke at a time like this?" he asked diversely, with a pale blue glitter in his eyes.

Unexpectedly, a cry broke their little teasing session, causing the very air to presumably shiver with the pain of the scream. They had not caught it fast enough and knew not if it was elven or orcish, however, the immortals each felt a sickening knot forming in their stomachs, for they knew they were about to find out. Glorfindel's cobalt eyes widened then he furrowed his brow with concern and regret. "Time is passing and so is our chances of success. If we are going to do something, it is now or never." Ancú and Roth instantly dropped there teasing and became dead serious. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Camp had been made hours ago, although, to Prince Legolas it seemed like ages were slowly going by and he was forever falling. His long blond hair hung in his azure orbs in long, sweaty strands. The immortal's face was the color of dingy frost and glistened with an icy perspiration that showed he was in more pain than he would readily let on to anyone, even his father. Whom was he kidding, especially his Ada! His bottom lip was swelling and the right corner was turning a discomforting purple. A lovely result of Frinican's fists connecting with his mouth when he had said something 'completely uncalled for'. The elf could taste blood running from his distended lip into his mouth and thought the taste rather revolting and bitter.

Legolas wiped some of the sweat off his cold brow by rubbing his forehead on one of his bound arms that were hefted above him and bound at the wrists. The prince then placed his head back against the pole he was lashed securely to, with his back to the rough wood. He had long ago given up trying to feel his feet. They were bound at the bottom with a tight cord so he could not kick at Frinican as the human proceeded to antagonize him.

The man, however was getting fed up with this elf that he could not get more than a moan or two from. He paced before the prince and Legolas just watched with wary and alert eyes that flashed with an annoyingly defiant fire, Frinican decided darkly. However, the man could see fear flickering not too distantly behind the presumably lethal flame. If only he could find out what it was the elf feared so much. He had decided not too long ago it nothing to do with the elf, but something the elf dreaded all the same.

The thought that nothing was really puncturing this elven brat enough to make him even give out a short lived cry grated heavily upon the human's short nerves. He cast an evil glare in the direction of the elf that he had ordered bound to the post, watching the prince's eyes. Legolas shot an equally sinister glare back.

That elf was the most irritating thing he had seen in a long time. If Lord Cracire weren't in charge and it was all up to him, he would rip the elf apart and strangle what was left of him, dictated Frinican resentfully. With an angry inward growl, he knew with growing wrath that he was not in charge here.

Legolas watched with vigilant orbs as Frinican came to stand directly before him. The human placed a finger under the prince's pale chin, feeling the prince's throat swallow hard as the elf held the pain in check and the man said thickly, "this can go on as long as you like elf, after all you are immortal." Legolas found it highly bothersome that the human said this so serenely, even though the masked anger was quite evident to the elf, who, like all of his race, were sensitive with emotions, even hidden ones.

Legolas said in a tone that plainly said 'you-are-wrong', "yes, I will live forever, you, on the other hand will die, and then I will be rid of you." Frinican hit the prince across the face harshly with his closed fist, hoping to get at least a cry from, what he thought, the unexpected blow. Legolas did nothing but hiss slightly. Frinican had had enough.

"Elf, you are in way over your head. I would stop now if I were you," snarled the human.

Legolas said, "pray what must I stop master edain? As far as I know I have not yet begun anything, or is that the problem?" asked the prince bitterly.

Frinican held in check the growing urge to strangle the Silvan elf. Instead, he placed a finger, already covered in the prince's blood, on the welt Legolas had received at the cruel hands of the orcs. He traced the wound none too lightly and watched happily as pain danced across Legolas's fair features. This elf may be strong, but he wasn't as strong as he would like to let on. "Oh but you will break sooner or later elf, one way or another." Legolas stiffened inwardly as the man pushed his finger harder on the laceration that streaked across the prince's gray-like face. "I feel it is only evenhanded that you know all you are in for."

Legolas snapped back haughtily, "oh, really, so now you have decided to inform me of what is left of my life?"

Frinican ignored the remark that was meant to annoy. "You aren't going to die, unless of course you are too troublesome and we are forced to kill you." Legolas thought dimly to himself, 'oh, how...comforting.' The man pressed on, trying to scare his victim before he proceeded to work on him more. "You are our slave elf, and until you are broken it is my job to make your life and the lives of your friends Hell on earth."

Legolas responded with alarm at this statement, "what?"

"Do I need to repeat myself? Which part do you not understand?" growled the human with a good dose of false dignity.

"You mean you are going to torment the innocent to get through to me?" gasped the Silvan prince with shock, even though, he knew full well that he should have expected this, it wasn't new to him.

"Their blood will be on your hands my blonde little friend and everything you do will have consequences for all of you that will be less than enjoyable, I can assure you," he retorted with an almost venomous hiss of anger. However, the look on the elf's face was simply thrilling as far as the man was concerned, absolutely priceless and he would not miss it for anything. The flicker of fear was growing into a kindling fire.

"That is so low," growled the fair-haired immortal lethally. How men could be so cruel, the elf would never amply comprehend and he was not sure he wanted to anyway.

Frinican smiled with a look of such icy joy, it could have frozen the sun and the hot fires of Mount Doom altogether. Legolas felt a shiver of some awoken fear race up his spine in a horrifyingly icy frigidity that bit at him and caused him to shudder slightly. Frinican caught the shiver and said with a purr of pleasure, "That is such a harsh statement, wouldn't you agree?"

Legolas just scowled darkly and voiced serenely, "it all depends on how you look at it master human."

Frinican flipped aside the flaps of Legolas's, tunic which he had long ago 'unbuttoned' for easier access to the soft flesh. Bruises littered the exposed torso of the prince in dark blotches outlined in a dingy yellow, where bruises were on top of bruises. He could not help but smile brightly when he saw the silvery beads of moisture that sheened on the chest of the fair being. A product of intensely withheld agony from the man's little discussion with the elf earlier. "And how do you see it Legolas? For that is your name, is it not?" He watched delightedly as the immortal's chest and abdomen heaved with deep, angered and or painful breaths.

"I see it as a valid and perfectly justified assertion," snapped the prince angrily. He was more than willing to kill this human if ever the chance happened by.

Frinican frowned and said sullenly, "I must say I am not sorry to hear that elf, it means we still have so much more time for these fun little heart to heart talks." He watched the blonde elf's face as he talked to the immortal, "you know I thought a lot about having a little discussion with your dark-haired friend before I took you on." Legolas forced his face to go expressionless and it took all his strength to keep it that way. The man looked into Legolas's cobalt eyes and finished regretfully, "but I thought you would be so much more fun. Now I am really beginning to wonder if I was possibly wrong, and I hate being wrong," he stated bitterly to Legolas. The Silvan elf merely shifted uneasily. Frinican was planing something.

Legolas may not have had much experience with the corsair, but he knew evil men generally started the annoying little 'talks' to their captives once they could stand withholding their plans any longer. Legolas did not want to think of the horrible possibilities that lied ahead. He knew that whatever it was, it was going to be far less than pleasant in any case. He thought that the man was horribly mad. Who took joy in the needless torment of captives? Only a person totally insane. That was exactly how the prince saw the crazed human before him, and it would take an extreme and long lasting change, nay, a permanent change, to convince him otherwise.

The pirate looked at Legolas with a scrutinizing eye, trying to spot a wavering twinkle of fear and the cause. Regretfully (in his opinion) the corsair saw none. Almost bored-like, the man socked the prince in the stomach. Legolas felt the thrills of dull pain strike his abdomen and nausea spreading through out his weary body as the bruises throbbed again. The fair being doubled forward against the bonds on his wrists and ankles. He did not care that his wrists were already raw, all he wanted to do now was curl into himself, but he knew that was far from possible. The Silvan elf felt his face go a new hue of pallid shade and he let his hair fall over to hide the pain that was lighting up his eyes. His inhalation hitched and he coughed sickeningly.

Legolas tried to twist away when he felt the pirate reach a hand under his face and lift his head up, brushing away long, wet strands of red tainted blonde hair to see his cruel performance's accomplishment. Legolas hated this more than anything. Frinican smiled as he felt the prince's warm and yet chilling, clammy sweat wet his hand and beads of the moisture drip from the long fair locks. Some how, it was rather satisfying, to see his devise going so well, for the prince was coated with a thin layer of perspiration. Legolas twisted his head out of the man's hand and let it fall against his chest again. He arched a fair brow to look up without raising his head, at the human before him.

Frinican let it go. Then, with a twinge, he realized that the elf would get dehydrated if he did not get more water into his body soon, for it was draining away in these frequent cold sweats. He did not really care if the prince got ill, or even died, but he knew Lord Cracire would and he was in no position to deal with the man who could order his sudden execution in a split second.

He knew that the elf would scream soon now, even though he was certain the fair being had no clue. Prisoners, slaves he had dealt with before usually broke down rather quickly after the sweats, yet this elf had gone through several and still had not broken forth more than a few moans. This disturbed him and he felt desperation tugging at him. It was becoming a matter of pride, he was acutely frantic to break this elf, and he would have done. Wiping his hand on his trousers, the man said to the elf, "I think you are longing for a playmate. Shall I bring you one elfy?"

Legolas knew what the man meant and thought, no. Anything but this. The human's threat earlier was about to start. Thankfully, the prince felt unconsciousness pulling him under. Unfortunately, he knew if he submitted to it for roughly the fifth time, there was a good chance he may never come out of it.

"I will back elf, with a friend for you." Legolas twisted in his bonds and rubbed his head on his arm again, wiping off the coat of sweat that Frinican had been so pleased about and that Legolas knew was so dangerous. He could feel his throat drying as he longed for water, simple water. However, he was not about to ask for it, fearing that Frinican might find some cruel use of his seemingly greatest want right then.

Legolas looked up when he heard the man returning, a struggling ranger in tow. Two men followed behind he corsair. Frinican placed Aragorn before the prince, the ranger looked at Legolas and smiled wryly. "Hello mellon nin," he murmured softly. Legolas's blue eyes went spacious and he felt his breath catch and hold. They were going to torment the mortal that was his friend before him. He knew now how the ranger must have felt when he had been tortured before his eyes. The emotion was ripping him apart and he longed for death and yet didn't wish for it.

Legolas nearly wept, but held his composure, "oh, Strider," he whispered sadly and felt the tears he had tried so desperately to prevent starting to slide down his ashen cheeks, mingling with his sweat. He was losing control over his emotions.

Aragorn looked at the froth-like sweat glistening on top of Legolas's lean body and said, "oh Legolas what did he do to you?" Legolas refused to meet the ranger's soft gaze. He did not want the human to know he was afraid. It wasn't that he didn't trust the ranger, but Aragorn was human after all, and Legolas did not have very fond memories of men. Aragorn knew this and feared for his friend. "Legolas, no matter what happens to me, I want you to be strong, alright?" Legolas nodded curtly, though he knew he would break.

Aragorn already knew that Legolas was frightened. For the elves did not sweat really, it took a lot to make them perspire, especially this much.

Frinican came and lifted the prince's head, placing a hand underneath his chin, halfway on the immortal's neck so he could hold the prince's head in place, making sure he wouldn't miss the demonstration before him. He nodded to the men and they dragged the ranger before the fair-haired being, gripping him by his upper arm and holding him securely in place. Legolas tried to squirm away, but Frinican tightened his hold, constricting Legolas's already parched throat. "You would hate to miss the show elf," he advised brutally.

Legolas wanted to close his eyes, but he found he couldn't take them off his best friend. "Now," said Frinican coldly, but with a gleam of hope for himself and his ambitions, "if you want this to stop, let us hear a high note from that lovely throat of yours, hm? A scream or two perchance?"

He felt Legolas swallow hard before saying poisonously, "you are utterly despicable." Frinican shrugged.

"You had your opportunity." He looked at the other corsairs supporting the ranger between them. They smiled and Legolas watched in trepidation as they drove their fists into Aragorn's defenseless stomach with a force that if the ranger was lucky, would only cause eternal bleeding. One went at the human with a wooden club, smashing it into the man's shoulder blade, electing a small cry that Legolas could tell was greatly suppressed. The cruel men had probably broken the bone or at least given it a hairline crack.

Legolas watched as the ranger doubled over in pain and force of the blows falling like rain, he had just gotten over being ill for the love of Elbereth! Valar! He needed to scream, but the elf could not bring himself to break every rule he had ever been taught. Frinican felt the immortal fighting himself. "Are you going to scream?" he asked tauntingly of the fair being.

Legolas said nothing and Frinican twisted the prince's face to see his. "Well?" He loved the pain filled look that reflected back at him from the big blue eyes. It was a deep pain, emotional. But, it ran deeper than the man would ever know, or at least, the prince hoped he would never know.

Legolas said sourly, "no."

"All it takes is one scream and I will stop, you can rest," tempted the man. Legolas heard a muffled moan escape the ranger and against his own will turned his face to see his best friend and Frinican allowed it, it was just what he wanted after all. Blood ran from the ranger's nose and mouth. He was doubled over as far as the men would allow with his pain and his face had turned a disturbing shade of white, touched with the flush of fever returning.

"No!" resisted the Silvan elf, he was not going to scream His keen ears picked up the sound of another blow dealt to the ranger.

"Come on," urged Frinican. "One little scream, that's all it takes."

"Nooo!" Legolas did not even realized he had screamed until it was too late and his cry rang out clear and pain filled. Frinican felt the sweat slick throat vibrate with the noise that was music to his ears and smiled. Just as he had predicted to himself, the elf had cried out in due time. Legolas continued to utter, "no, no," over and over. Aragorn's blood and pain was on his head, staining his hands. The corsair released his grip on the waxen throat. Legolas let his head fall limply forward onto his chest as he uttered and cried his regret.

Frinican growled, "free the ranger, I will cut the elf loose." He drew out his rough edged knife and slid it beneath the bonds, slicing them free of the elf's raw wrists and ankles. Legolas slumped to the ground tiredly. Aragorn looked to his friend the minute he had been dropped.

Eru Legolas! What on earth did they do to you? Aragorn was not sure what they had done to the prince, but what ever it had been, it had obviously been terrible to behold. Aragorn was sure it had to be worse than what the cruel men had done to him. When he looked at his friend, his pain seemed to escape on the breeze and Legolas's took its place.

Legolas's sharp elven ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps on the ground as he lay with his ear pressed to the earth, and yet they were not so heavy. Frinican said over head in a welcoming voice, "Captain Draciar! Sir, I taught him respect as best as I could sir." Legolas swirled his cobalt orbs upward to see the captain and what he was doing here. Draciar's caught his and the human bore a strangle look of short-lived sorrow.

"What have you done!" hissed the captain. "You fool! They may die!" snapped Draciar angrily. Frinican shrugged uncaringly.

"If he would have only screamed, he might have not had it so rough," justified the interrogator with an air of innocence on his part. "'Tis his own wretched fault." Though inside the corsair had no remorse, he was willing to put on a show.

Draciar knelt by the ill prince and took his pulse gently before Legolas could dispute with him. It was rapid and yet fading. The captain looked at the sweat that drenched the elf's body like a covering of rainwater upon the grass and at the cracked lips, swollen and one corner turning black and blue. The blonde elf was dying of dehydration, if he didn't get some water soon, they were going to lose him. Draciar knew this, yet what could he do? A tremor ran through the immortal as he shuddered with a rare cold depress caused by the perspiration that offered no protection against the frigid breeze. "You went too far!" he snarled in a deadly growl at Frinican.

The captain then went to Aragorn. The ranger glared defiantly. Draciar looked at the human and thought sadly, 'you don't recognize me my friend, but I know you and am so very sorry.' The ranger did not seem so bad, blood ran from one lip and his nose, but other than that and an ill stomach, he was not half as bad as the prince. The man was lucky that he had not gotten far worse, if Legolas had not screamed... the captain hated to think of what could have happened. Then the captain recognized a sign of prior illness, a lingering fever hovered over the young man's brow. Draciar frowned and said up to the tormentor, "I don't know what got into your head, but it must stop for tonight."

Frinican rolled his eyes. Like he was going to let this upstart captain tell him what to do. Just then all looked up as shouts rang through the camp of, "Lord Cracire! Lord Cracire!" The master was coming.

The lord reached the captain, then looked up at Frinican who was smirking at Draciar, "stopping early tonight, are you not?"

Draciar looked at the lord and said, "early?" His dark brows arched into a look of surprise.

"The elf broke sir, screamed he did," replied Frinican to Cracire brusquely, "anyway, I have one more elf to go." His voiced excuse sounded impatient, as though he wanted to get on with his next victim. He recalled well that the dark-haired elf was. He had saved the best for last and now he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Lord Cracire said, "go Captain Draciar and put these urchins away and get them settled then bring us the inky-haired brat that gave us trouble on the road today."

Draciar stammered, "haven't we done enough for one night? Wouldn't they be more resilient tomorrow and make the show a little more...interesting?" he asked hopefully. Inside he slapped himself, for that was just the kind of talk that would blow his so far unascertained cover. If he was found out the elves, the ranger and himself could all very well die.

Lord Cracire smiled coldly and with twisted amusement, then said, "you are young yet Captain, but you must come to understand, mercy is a sign of weakness and we are strong. Our slaves are ours and we do what we will with them for what ever we feel we need them for." He furrowed his brows and said, "now get me the elf, or else I may have to come up with consequences you would not like." Inside, Draciar felt horrible, he felt like a traitor. He hoped what he would have to do next would fall short of murder, for he did not wish to see the ebony-haired elf fall victim to death and to the torment of Frinican because he brought him there.

Past...

To Legolas it seemed as though he was holding his last breath. He felt his knees buckling and the world began to dim. Yet, he felt a sort of odd victory, he would not have to swallow the meat, he would not go to Mordor. He, Legolas Greenleaf Thranduillion, had won, even if it was an eccentric victory that came through death.

Aragorn watched in trepidation as the elf sagged to the ground (or as near to it as his bonds allowed). The man would be damned if he would let them suffocate his best friend right before him like this. The ranger got up and slammed his body into one of the men, Unario. The human did not fall, but veered off to the side, releasing his hold over the prince's nose and chin. Aragorn tripped the feet from beneath another, but by then, his short lived recovery from the illness was gone and he sank to the ground.

Legolas drew in a deep breath then turned his head away and spewed the meat from his mouth. He could not help but cough and wheeze as his lungs filled with air again and his sick stomach reeled. He then looked at the ranger that lay on the ground, panting from the over exertion he had put his newly 'healed' body through. Unario grabbed the prince's chin and said gruffly, "lets try this again." Legolas clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes. No, no, not again.

The man picked up a second piece of the raw meat, he pressed it against Legolas's lips to try and force it into his mouth and the elf jerked his head away angrily. Unario was getting annoyed. This elf was going to resist him to the death and he knew it. Unless he found another way to get through to the fair being, he would never force a single strip of meat down that elf's wretched throat before he lost it and strangled the immortal. He knew the elf was scared of him, that much he saw in those deep cobalt eyes.

The evil man's eyes locked on the ranger. The elf seemed to be friends with this man, perhaps this was the weakness he had been looking for. Legolas opened his blue eyes and saw the man before him looking at the ranger with an expression of near amusement. Unario turned back and saw Legolas's horrified face. Oh, yes, he knew how he was going to get this elf to eat. It was cruel, but who cared? He threw the piece of meat into the bushes then went and grabbed Aragorn by his shoulder.

Legolas bucked against his bonds. "Nooo!" Leave him be!" They were going to do something to his friend and he was powerless to prevent it, which, he decided obscurely, was not a very pleasant feeling for one to be in possession of. Then, he knew that really he wasn't, and that was even worse. His blue eyes flashed and he said, "why can't you just leave him out of it!"

Unario dragged the young man over to the prince. He raised his brows and said matter-of-factly, "here is the deal elf, you eat and he will be spared what I have planned. If you refuse, since we are not allowed to beat you up very much, we will beat up your ranger friend here instead, got it?"

Legolas was going to answer, but he came to the conclusion that that was a rhetorical question. Instead his glare deepened to his most darkening, when- get-free-I-am-going-to-kill-you look. To the evil man before him, that look was a sign of weakness. One of the other men came up and placed a piece of the meat before Legolas's mouth. Unario growled, "one last chance elf."

Legolas wanted to save his friend, but he could not bring himself to touch that repulsive 'food'. He closed his eyes and shuddered as he imagined it sliding down his throat. Utterly rejecting the raw flesh, the elf swallowed hard.

Aragorn knew what Legolas was going through and blamed him not. He trusted Legolas. If the elf was refusing the meat, he had a good reason, for he would never let the ranger get beat up otherwise. The young mortal knew Legolas would get burned alive for him (he thanked the Valar that it had not come to that and prayed it never would, for he did not think he would be alright with it). Aragorn watched as Legolas's lashes about his eyes began to wet. The elf was getting ready to weep, for he did not want to see his friend go through anything. Legolas hated being there, where his weakness showed through and he was ready to bawl like a baby.

He felt like a heavy weight had been placed on his soul. The elf could feel shackles unseen binding him and biting him. They were about his heart and mind. He was shrouded in darkness, stumbling along on a road he knew was wrong and yet he was unsure. He knew his pride was getting the best of him. In the darkness, he felt a hand reaching in to pull him out. He was sure it was the Valar, offering him peace. He felt it offering him an escape route, after all, when elves tire of the world, they are permitted to leave it. But Legolas would not leave. Aragorn was here and if he could not leave so Legolas would stay as well.

Lanotin watched the whole thing with a growing derisive grin. He was loving every minute of it. The elf and ranger were catching it hot and for once it was not him. However, one thing disappointed the slave, the elf utterly refused to scream. He had been hoping to hear how 'musical' legends said elves could be and it looked like that was not going to happen.

Legolas knew that the human was adoring every second of his pain, emotional and physical. It burned him that men could be so cruel. The prince flinched when he heard Aragorn give a muffled moan. Opening his eyes, he saw the ranger on the ground, curling into himself. Aragorn had been savagely kicked by Unario. Legolas surged against his bonds. The human gave the down elf-friend another brutal kick, striking the young man in the torso. Then, dragging up, the man punched Aragorn so hard in the side of his head that the ranger fell back to the ground from the sheer force. Stars pranced before his eyes and to Strider, it seemed that the world was going dark.

Legolas opened his mouth to beg the slaver to stop, but he felt a cool piece of meat slide into his mouth and then hands clamp his jaws shut. Legolas knew what they wanted in order for them to stop hurting his dearest friend, yet he could not do it. One man began to massage the elf's throat, trying to relax it enough that it would swallow of its own accord. Legolas tried to keep his muscles in his neck taut, but it wasn't working, they were loosening all of their own free will. His throat was beginning to swallow the disgusting raw animal flesh. Legolas strove against it, but the meat slid halfway down and then-he swallowed.

The minute the blonde haired immortal felt the raw meat hit his stomach, he felt too sick to stand, and his knees gave. Leaving him sagging loosely against his fetters, and scoring him with horror. Aragorn looked up with blood running from his mouth and could have sworn he saw a green tint to the prince's face. "Legolas..." another blow, this time from a sword hitting him broad side, left a welt on his back and slammed him against the earth.

The slaver raised the scimitar and struck the down ranger with the pummel, creating a huge bruise as it hit the human's ribs. Aragorn felt something beginning to crack. The haft of the sword struck him again and Aragorn gave a split cry as he felt a rib break. His very breath seemed stolen away and his head throbbed.

The men put another small strip of meat before the prince and grinned as they asked silently, 'well are you going to eat it or must we do more?' Legolas opened his mouth and was about to accept it, when he felt a wave of nausea wash over him and he shut his mouth with a snap. No, no more. He could not stomach it again. He would be sick. His breath hitched as he tried to force himself to swallow for the ranger's sake.

Unario shrugged and raised the sword's hilt above the human again. When it fell this time, it struck the man's shoulder blade, sending caustic pain all along his back. Aragorn prayed that the bone wasn't cracked.

Legolas finally gave in, but felt faint as they set another piece in his mouth. He started to wallow, but it just wasn't working. The men rubbed his throat again and Legolas swallowed again. He wanted to die, but he could not leave Aragorn. However, now the elf was feeling completely indisposed. His stomach pleaded for him to vomit and yet he knew if he did so, that Aragorn would only get it harder. The men cut down the sick elf at a nod from Unario.

Legolas fell forward onto his knees and crawled to the ranger's side. He saw the blood and heard the raspy breath. He had done this, he had promoted the injury of his closest friend in the world and his only friend right now. Carefully, the elf went and cradled the ranger in his arms. Tears fell from his face. "I am so sorry Strider, so sorry. It was an accident...I didn't...mean to... I am so horrible," sobbed the immortal.

Aragorn looked up at Legolas and said, "Legolas, what you did was understandable."

The prince's glittering cobalt orbs stated that he plainly saw it from a different perspective. "No, it is my fault. I want to die."

Aragorn rolled his eyes, "that feeling is certainly shared," he mumbled under his breath. His back hurt and his rib was screaming. His head was in a world of pain all to itself. "But don't die Legolas, agreed?" asked the human in a soft voice.

The elf prince hesitated a moment before saying, "agreed." However, he felt differently. He had hurt his best friend, and in his book, that was unacceptable.

Aragorn raised a brow and looked up at the prince. "Oh, one more thing, don't say you're sorry again. I believe you." Legolas could not help but crack a small, if barely recognizable smile.

TBC...Muahahahahaha! Now that the cat is out of action (but soon to return), the Doberman is filling in! Yes, Celeb has a bunch of odd and creepy pets, including a Doberman pincher, whose favorite past time is wrecking the house, but she likes to make elves and rangers miserable too.

WHERE ARE OUR ASTERISKS AND WAVY THINGIES! Aghhhhh! Now review responses look all freaky! Oh well, its not the end of the world, we guess.

Review Responses: (we love you all so much) ((((())))) :)

blondelady -- We know, and we try to be accurate, but you have to remember, it is AU after all, and it is doubtful this kind of stuff really happened anyway, but we like to believe it could have happened. But, you are correct and don't hesitate to tell us of an error you may find.

Deana Yuck is right! Very ew! We really feel sorry for the elf now! But at least he isn't starving to death. Be optimistic here! Thanks for clearing up about ' phantom chapter nine' as we call it. Hehehehe. But now you have that chappie up and that's cool. Leggy angst, hehehehe, the best.

Strider's Girl You killed him! Aghhhhhh!

Elerrina Amanya Well considering Strider's Girl kidnapped the cat and shot him dead...you will have to ask her for his body. Yes, the other 'broken and bleeding' elves are somewhere east of the MM. Hehehe. Sorry if there was confusion here, we just assumed that was what everybody thought. g Bad mistake! grins

Shadowed Flames Of course everybody is betting beat up now! Did you count on less of us? ;g We are nuts!

Veritas and Aequitas We promise, no happy, sappy twists, at least not for a long time.