To Walk In Night

by Nili

Just before Aragorn should travel back to Rivendell, a Mirkwood patrol is attacked and Legolas captured. When Aragorn finally finds him and his captors, both come to realise that a dark force is stirring in Rhûn that might destroy all they hold dear.

21. Incentives

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

It seems that I once again have to apologise for posting too late, but college has really caught up with me now. These two evil papers don't appear to go away when you ignore them as I had hoped, and I have quite a lot to do. I therefore have to announce that it's really going to be every seven days now - I'm very sorry, really. Trust me, I'd much rather write this highly entertaining, mad little story, but I guess my professors wouldn't be all that happy about it. *rueful grin* So until I've got a little more time (which should be about end of April *g*), there'll be an update each Friday. Once again, I'm sorry, but I really don't have time for more. *smiles apologetically*

Hmm, about the names: Quite a few people have found out the emissaries' names: First: They're all Quenya. Sangwa means "poison" and Halya means "to conceal, screen from sight". I simply added male endings, in both cases agentive ones, and that was it. Súliat's name was a little harder to figure out I'm afraid, since it's a compound. It's composed of Súli- + a + -t; Súli is the plural of Súlë, meaning "spirit, breath, wind" and -t is a dual ending, meaning "two" or "both". I admit that I put the "-a-" in there because it looked nicer. So, we have "Poisoner", "Concealer" and "He-who-is-of-two-spirits", which was the best for betrayer or traitor I could come up with that started with "S". *g* So, no clones for anyone, sorry. *g*


Now that that's cleared up, here's the next chapter - well, talk about stating the obvious... *g* Well, what do we have ... a bit more torture, a lot more angst, we meet Glamir, see Celylith, Glorfindel and the twins again and have a little cliffy. *evil grin* It's only a little one, promise.

Enjoy and review, please!

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Chapter 21


Legolas could not remember having ever been so furious in his entire life. There had been several times when he had been really, really angry before, but that had been nothing compared to this.

It wasn't as much that he was angry – well, that wasn't really true. He was angry, he was so angry that he would have killed the first person who came into his cell with his bare hands, bound or not. But more than anger he felt guilt, a guilt that stabbed through his heart and threatened to tear it apart every time he heard another of the screams.

As if on cue, another choked, hoarse cry rent the air, causing the elf to bow his head and, for the ten thousandth time, curse the keen hearing his people were blessed with. He couldn't take this anymore, he couldn't just sit here and listen to Aragorn's screams. Yet there was nothing he could do to change it, and that coupled with the knowledge that this was all his fault, that all this happened just because of him, was enough to drive him insane.

Had his hands been untied, he would have clamped them over his ears to block out the sounds of his friend's pain. It was his fault that Aragorn was in the hands of Teonvan, only his. It was his fault that the ranger was suffering, it was his fault that he was being tortured by the sickest being he had ever had the misfortune to meet.

The scream faded and finally died, and Legolas leaned back against the damp stone wall, fighting hard for composure and against the tears that wanted to escape his tightly closed eyes. The cries had started soon after they had taken Aragorn away, and even now, after at least two hours, they had not weakened in their intensity, or only marginally. The elf swallowed hard. He knew what that meant, and the guilt in his heart increased even more. He had promised Lord Elrond to look after Estel, he had promised to protect the young man with his life, and what was he doing? Allowing the ranger to be tortured by a man who had wanted nothing more for the past week. A fine friend he was, wasn't he?

He was still contemplating his own foolishness and furiously planning what he would do to Teonvan should he ever be able to get hands on him – and he would, he vowed to himself, he would make that man pay for what he was doing to his friend – when another sound reached his ears, a sound that he identified as footsteps after a moment. The sounds drew closer and finally stopped in front of his door, and another moment later he heard a key scrape in the lock until the door swung open with a loud, resounding click.

While Legolas was still blinking rapidly to adjust his eyes to the blinding light, two shadowy figures entered the small cell and grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet and out of the room before the elf had even fully realised what was going on. Outside waited three more men, and all thoughts of escape died in Legolas' mind. There was no way he could escape five men. He was angry enough to take on thrice as many, yes, but considering the way his chest hurt and he was once again having trouble breathing, he wouldn't even manage to fight three of them.

The men ignored his murderous looks that would have killed even the most thick-skinned troll, and while they were dragging him down the corridor Legolas decided that that must have something to do with serving the most insane man he could remember meeting in a while. How was it possible that the descendant of a decent, reasonable man was as insane as Eöl the Dark Elf? That thought served to bring a small smile to the elf's face and even made him forget about the men's hands that were gripping his arms and pushing him forward. Eöl had been cast over the cliffs of Caragdûr by the Gondolindrim, hadn't he?

The smile widened a little while he was amusing himself with the very attractive vision of throwing Girion off one of the towers, or, better yet, off the highest peak of the Ered Dhuir. Oh yes, he thought darkly. The very highest peak of the Ered Dhuir…

He was still imagining what it would feel like to throw Teonvan – and while he was at it, also Cendan – off that mountain as soon as his mad lord had hit the ground when he was pulled to a stop in front of a thick, well-made door that looked oddly out of place. It looked too … clean, somehow, too much like the front door of a wealthy business man's house, Legolas thought confused, but before he could further dwell on that subject the man who had been leading them with a torch in his hand took a step forward and knocked. Without waiting to be admitted the man opened the door and stepped to the side, making way for his companions who pushed their captive forward and into the brightly lit room.

Legolas didn't really know what he had been expecting to see, but this was most definitely not it, he decided after a split second. This room did not look like any dungeon he had ever seen, and neither did it look like an interrogation room – yet it did, somehow. Still, the first thing that came to the elven prince's mind when his eyes wandered over the small, but somehow airy space was … homely.

It was an association one did not expect in a dungeon, and even less in a torture chamber. Yet the room did appear homely, somehow. The walls were smooth and clean, and Legolas could even see a finely woven tapestry, depicting … a pastoral scene? The elf blinked perplexedly while he was pushed forward. He was getting the distinct feeling that he was missing something very important here. There was a massive wooden chest standing in the one corner, a long table right next to it. In front of the table stood a carved chair, and two very comfortable-looking armchairs were just to the right of the entrance, next to a merrily burning fire that was going in a small hearth.

Somehow he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was stepping into someone's living room – if that someone had rather bizarre taste. While the room appeared at first glance to be a cosy living room or study, there were more than enough indications that it wasn't so. Apart from the chains dangling from one of the walls there were dark spots on the wooden chest, a reddish discolouration that had been wiped off but was still visible for the keen eyes of an elf. No, Legolas thought as he was dragged into the room, but surprisingly into the direction of the armchairs and not into the direction of the chains. This was no-one's living room.

A few seconds later he was pulled to a stop next to the fireplace, and three of the guards turned around and left, locking the door as they exited the room. At the same time a dark figure stepped out of the shadows next to the exit that had been concealed by the open door until now, and when Legolas laid eyes on the man who stepped into the light of the torches and candles that lit the room, he decided that something was definitely not right here.

The man looked like … like a librarian, Legolas decided as the man came closer, a friendly smile on his face. He was middle-aged and rather small, at least a head and a half smaller than the elf who was standing next to an armchair, his surprise and confusion hidden under a mask of calmness. He had thinning grey hair and a round, friendly face, and his arms and legs were thin and appeared somewhat fragile. The man's attire fitted this impression as well; the clothing was dark and well-made, but without unnecessary adornments or embroidery. All in all, he looked like the prime example of an elderly councilman or a peaceful scholar – if not for his eyes. The eyes were brown and as ice cold as the Forest River in mid-winter. There was nothing but shrewd calculation in them, and Legolas had seen wargs in mid-jump who had appeared more friendly or merciful.

The man stopped in front of him and gave the fair haired elf a polite nod, a friendly expression on his face that never made it into his eyes.
"Good evening, Master Elf. I have been looking forward to meeting you."

Even the voice was cultivated and soft, Legolas decided startled, but it also told him one thing: The man was not from around here. The accent was different, and the way the other pronounced several syllables seemed strangely familiar. Legolas realised that the man was waiting for an answer and narrowed his eyes, not being in the mood for pleasantries.
"Where is my friend? What have you done to him?"

For a moment, the small man in front of him looked confused, but then understanding was beginning to dawn on his face.
"Ah, you mean the ranger?" he asked as he sat down in one of the armchairs. "But please, sit down first."

Legolas merely stared at the man, ignoring his offer completely.
"Where – is – my – friend?"

The man merely shook his head as if displeased with the other's lack of manners, but answered nonetheless, an expression of indifference on his face.
"He's my lord's present to Teonvan for successfully completing the mission. Frankly, I do not agree with Lord Girion's decision, but what can you do?"

The elf's eyes seemed to catch fire, and he struggled against his two guards who held him back with some trouble.
"What is he doing to him?"

"Several things, I'd imagine," the man shrugged. "And what will be done to him in the future all depends on only one thing: You." The elf made no move to answer, and so the man finally shrugged and added, "But where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Glamir."

"The master torturer, I assume," Legolas spat contemptuously.

Glamir sighed but smiled and nodded.
"I don't like that title, it has such a … negative ring to it; dreadful, really dreadful. But yes, I am Lord Girion's master torturer, and I am very good at what I do."

"I trust your word on that," Legolas retorted darkly. "Why don't you let the ranger go? He has nothing to do with this."

Glamir shook his head again, looking hurt and a tiny bit angry.
"Please, Master Elf, you insult my intelligence. I am not a sick, uncontrolled man like Teonvan who isn't intelligent enough to outwit even the stupidest goblin." He noticed the surprise on the elf's face and smiled thinly. "No, Master Elf, I do not like Teonvan, and it does you credit that you obviously don't either. Teonvan is stupid, greedy and egotistic, and a thousand things in between. But I find him … useful from time to time."

"You are no better than him," the elf protested, eyes hard and dark in his bruised face. "You use a human child to get to me! You are a coward!"

"No," the man shook his head, obviously unperturbed. "I am a professional. More than that, I am an artist. I know exactly how much a body can take, and, more importantly, how much a spirit can take before it is damaged beyond repair. I do not do this because I gain any mentionable enjoyment out of it, I do this because I am good at it. And, more than that, I am also not stupid. The ranger has everything to do with this, and both you and I know that."

"Why?" Legolas asked, but knowing deep in his heart that it was futile to argue with this little, frighteningly controlled man. He was right, he was not stupid. "He does not know what your lord wants to hear!"

"No, he most likely does not," Glamir shook his head in agreement and stood up from his chair, motioning the guards to bring the elven prisoner over to the chains hanging from the wall. "But you do, and that is all that matters. He is the reason why you and I will spend a lot of time together, speaking about all the things my lord wants to know."

"I won't tell you anything," Legolas shook his head and stared at the man angrily while the guards were forcing his now unbound, but stiff and thoroughly useless hands into the metal manacles. A second later the cuffs closed around his wrists, binding them uselessly to the wall at the height of his shoulders. "You are all wasting your time."

"No, we are not, and you know it, once again," Glamir shook his head and nodded at the guards who withdrew and took up positions next to the closed door. "Teonvan has the opportunity to enjoy himself a little, and in addition to that we also get another thing: A demonstration." He took a step closer, his cold brown eyes boring into Legolas' angry blue ones. "Only very heartless or indifferent people can watch their friends suffer and remain silent even though they have the power to stop it. How much longer are you going to listen to your friend's screams before you break and tell me everything I want to know? Not long, I think. You know, I wouldn't have the slightest problem with it. You, however, are different, I think."

"Yes," Legolas hissed at the man, the truth in the other's words only serving to make him angrier. "You are right, I am different! But I will not tell you anything, no matter what you do. I would dishonour him and myself with it, and he would wish me to remain silent."

Glamir shook his head, an amused sparkle appearing in his eyes.
"He may have thought so, yes," he agreed. "Back in that cell of yours he may have told you not to reveal anything, may even have pleaded with you to hold your silence. But," he stopped shortly, looking calculatingly at the shackled elf, "how much longer do you think he'll be of that opinion, if he even is of it now? Teonvan may be an idiot and overeager, but he is effective, even if he has preferences I do not share."

The elf's eyes darkened so far that it was hard to distinguish between pupils and the surrounding irises, and he leaned forward as far as his chains would permit him.
"If Strider has suffered any lasting damage, I will kill you. You, Teonvan, and every single man in this castle."

Glamir stepped back and walked over to his desk, nodding his head in friendly agreement.
"Yes, Master Elf, I believe you would do that – if you had the chance." He righted a long, blank roll of parchment and reached for a quill, scrutinised its tip and reached for a small knife sitting on the desktop next to the inkwell to trim it into the correct form. "But things being as they are, you are chained to the wall and I am in the position to ask you a lot of questions."

"You may ask," Legolas said acidly, "But you will not receive any answers."

Glamir finished his work and carefully placed the quill on top of the parchment, once again resembling an aging schoolmaster more than anything else. The man turned back to the elf, an expression of deep disapproval on his round face.
"It appears you aren't grasping the one very important thing, Master Elf," he told his prisoner. "You will tell me everything my lord wants to know. Everything. We can do this the pleasant way, or we can do this the hard way. Remember what you heard earlier from your friend – it can be him listening to your screams, if he is still capable of hearing you, that is."

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, for the determined, contemptuous expression on Legolas' face only hardened.
"Do what you will. I will not betray my king to you or that madman you call lord."

"As I expected," Glamir nodded to himself and began to walk back to his table, sitting down on the carved wooden chair when he reached it. "As I expected, but still slightly disappointing. As I said, I am a professional, and I had been hoping we could settle this like reasonable people."

He once again nodded into the guards' direction, who abandoned their posts and began to walk over to where Legolas was chained to the wall, a gleeful expression of anticipation on their faces that the elf did not like at all.

"Let's consider this a test," the small man told the elven prince as the two men stopped in front of him, cracking their knuckles and looking extraordinarily like two trolls that had just found a victim they could pummel for a while. "A simple test to see just how determined you are. Believe it or not, there are many men who break down after the first hour. Or rather, there were. Past tense."

Glamir leaned back against the back of his chair, and in the moment the first man drew back to hit him, Legolas decided that this man was even worse than Teonvan, in a sense at least. This little, scholarly man was making him sick, from his apparently friendly smile to his educated voice and ordinary appearance. He was lying when he said that he didn't enjoy what he was doing, when he pretended that he merely saw it as his work. Glamir enjoyed this and the power it brought with it at least as much as Teonvan, who at least didn't pretend he didn't.

The elf's train of thought was rudely interrupted when one of the guards' fists connected with stomach, driving all air from his lungs. Before he even had the chance to curl himself up like his body urgently advised him in order to protect himself, the second man's balled fist hit him in the right side, smashing his back against the stone wall.

Legolas soon lost count of how many times he was hit or how long it took, and he soon sunk into a dreamlike state that was only interrupted when the men hit the stab wound in his side. Most of the other cuts Teonvan had placed so painstakingly in his chest had already closed, but Legolas was sure that a good percentage had opened again now, and every time a fist connected with his breast fiery pain shot through him.

Far worse than the injuries to his chest and shoulders was the side wound, however, and every time one of the guards' fists made contact with it, Legolas was hard-pressed not to scream aloud. Even despite the pain that was beginning to overwhelm him, the blond elf tried to keep his left side as protected as possible – he really did not want to find out what Aragorn would say if he saw that his stitches had been torn open. Members of Lord Elrond's family seemed to take such things personally, Legolas thought dreamily as the air was once again driven from his lungs by a vicious blow to his stomach. He would rather face the fire-breathing dragon that would surely show itself some time soon than have to admit to the Lord of Imladris – or one of his sons, human or not – that he had torn his stitches…

When the blows finally stopped, he could honestly not say how much time had passed. Over the roaring in his ears he heard the guards make some gleeful comments to each other, and a few moments later he even managed to raise his head on his own, something that filled him with a lot of satisfaction and a profound sense of achievement. The scene that greeted his eyes was almost unchanged: The guards were still standing in front of him (even though they were looking more as if they were massaging their knuckles this time) and Glamir was still sitting in his chair, looking half-pleased and half-annoyed.

"Well?" Glamir merely asked and looked at him expectantly.

Legolas did not answer but simply looked at the grey haired human, his white, bruised face calm and an eyebrow arched in a way that distinctly said "What do you think?" After a moment Glamir averted his eyes, pursed his lips and nodded at the guards who once again returned to their posts at the door. One of them took position next to the exit while the other produced a key, unlocked the door and quietly disappeared out of the room.

The elf's attention was transferred from the now closed door to the small man who had stood to his feet and had walked over to him, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. Glamir reached out and meticulously unbuttoned the elf's now bloodstained shirt, ignoring the way the prisoner stared at him in utter contempt. The fabric parted, and the man shook his head when he saw the reopened, bleeding cuts that were visible where the bandages had come loose.

"Teonvan, hmm?" he asked softly, looking up into the elf's face, annoyance on his features. "He will never learn to control himself, I fear."

Legolas merely snorted and suppressed a chuckle, knowing full well that his ribs wouldn't agree with such a foolish action. He hadn't made his mind up about whether they were broken or bruised, but he was sure they wouldn't be pleased about something as reckless as laughing.
"What would you know about control, human?"

For a moment, real, passionate anger flared in the man's eyes, and Legolas' satisfaction at having managed to break through Glamir's calm façade intermingled with a small stab of fear. He did not like that look, not at all.

"A lot, Master Elf," Glamir retorted and let the open shirt fall back into place. "Otherwise you would already be hanging from your chains by your wrists, begging me for mercy."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, aye," the man nodded darkly, a look of such conviction on his face that it made Legolas' blood run cold. "Aye, you would. But, contrary to Teonvan, I am a man who heeds his orders. I could have you broken at my feet by now, but if you break someone that quickly, you always damage the mind beyond repair. And that would be of no advantage to any of us, would it? Besides," he added, once again walking back to the table and leaning against it in a deliberately casual gesture, "my Lord Girion has impressed upon me the importance of this interrogation. I was ordered to extract the wanted information, as quickly as possible, but I am to make sure it is accurate. You would not believe how jumbled a man's memory and perception can become once he has been put through a certain amount of pain. This of course leaves me with a problem."

The nonchalant, conversational tone of voice Glamir used was even more shocking to the elf than what he actually said. How could anyone talk like this about hurting, about torturing someone? And not even just "someone"; he must have done this to dozens, to hundreds of men, and he still sounded as if they were no more than figures in a book.

While Legolas was still staring somewhat disbelievingly at the small, ordinary-looking human who was leaning against the table standing no more than ten feet away from him, he heard footsteps that were beginning to draw closer, nearing this room. There were at least three men coming closer, the elf decided quickly, concentrating hard in order to block out the pain that throbbed through his body with every heartbeat. There was, however, a sound he could not identify, a somewhat shuffling sound, as if someone was dragging his feet behind…

Realisation dawned on the elf in the exact moment that the door was thrown open and Teonvan sauntered in, his face practically glowing in a way that made Legolas sick to his stomach. The brown haired man began to grin when he saw the pale, bruised elf and he said something, but Legolas' attention was captured by two things so that he didn't even realise the man had been speaking to him.

The first thing the elven prince noticed with shocked fear was that there was blood on the captain's tunic and shirt, and there was a lot of it. There were large and small splashes all over the man's torso and arms, and Legolas realised with calm, detached clarity whose blood it had to be.
More than that, however, shocked him the second thing his eyes saw, namely the body the two other men, one of them the guard who had left, dragged in now, therefore also explaining the shuffling noise.

Legolas forgot everything around him as his eyes widened and his heart constricted in his chest.
"Strider!" he gasped, a sudden, horrible cold washing over him. "Estel! Estel!!"

Teonvan grinned broadly and said something, but Legolas wasn't paying him the slightest attention, all this thoughts concentrated on his human friend who was hanging between the two other men like a flour sack.

For a moment, Legolas couldn't see any wounds on Aragorn's body, but a split second later he realised that that was because almost every single square inch of the young ranger's upper body was covered with dried and drying blood, giving him an almost clothed appearance. The wounds themselves were of a darker red colour and a lot of them still bled freely, adding to the severe blood loss the man must already have suffered.

Legolas blinked slowly as his eyes wandered over the ranger's body. There were … holes in him, for a lack of better term. Holes of about an inch in diameter were all over his upper arms, shoulders and torso, and a few seemed to be also on his hips and legs. They were oddly symmetrical, as if the person responsible for them – as if Teonvan, the elf thought in mounting fury – had taken special care to place them on the same spots on either side of Aragorn's body.

The elf's mind wondered for a moment what could cause such wounds, but shied away from the thought half a second later like a hand from a red-hot surface. He didn't know, and he didn't care, all he wanted was to break these chains and strangle that sickening, infuriating grin from Teonvan's face.

"Strider!" Legolas called again. "Answer me! Strider!!"

The elf wasn't sure if Aragorn even heard his pleading voice, for he showed no signs that he even realised where he was. The young ranger's eyes were half-lidded and what was visible of the grey orbs was glazed and filled with such pain that Legolas would have wanted to weep. O the Valar, this was all his fault, his fault and no other's…

Glamir studied the young ranger with the same critical eyes with which a schoolmaster would have studied a writing exercise one of his pupils had handed in, and a moment later he turned back to Teonvan, a slightly disapproving frown on his face.
"You overdid it a little there, didn't you, Captain?"

Teonvan's grin faded immediately and he looked at the smaller, elderly man with an expression akin to fear.
"There were only certain limitations, Master Glamir," he defended himself hastily. "And he is still alive! That is the most important thing, is it not?"

"Perhaps," Glamir nodded reluctantly. "Yes, perhaps indeed." He fell silent for a second, his cold eyes resting calculatingly on the blond elf who was staring desperately at his semiconscious friend. "Very well," he finally added, turning back to Teonvan, "You can have the boy. Do with him as you please, he is of no concern to me."

It was hard to say who was more shocked by this announcement, the elf or the brown haired man, but it was clear who was more appalled by the prospect.
"What?!" Legolas exclaimed, his head whipping around to look at the even-faced Glamir. "He's barely alive as it is! He will kill him!"

"So?" the small man retorted indifferently. "You are apparently not moved by his fate, so why should I be?" He nodded at the two guards who were holding the dark haired man upright, who was apparently regaining some of his senses now. "Take him back."

The two men turned and began to drag their prisoner into the direction of the door, garnering a small, pain-filled moan from the ranger which he couldn't suppress now that he was returning more and more to awareness, when the elven prince's voice halted them in their tracks.

"Stop!" he commanded in a voice that held all the fury that filled his heart. The two guards did indeed stop and turned back around, and Legolas stared at Glamir's face, searching for a hint of compassion or mercy and finding none. "Please, you cannot do this! He is barely more than a child!"

The small man cocked his head slightly to the side and stepped closer, an unreadable sparkle in his eyes.

"You want to protect him, Master Elf? Then tell me what my lord wants to know." The elf simply stared at him, and he stepped even closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "If you care for your friend at all, you will tell me, because otherwise I will give him to Teonvan, without the slightest hesitation. You know what the dear captain wants to do, don't you?" The elf's eyes narrowed which Glamir answered with a small, cold smile. "Yes, I see that you do. He's realistic, you know? He knows what he can't and can have. You fall under the first category, but the ranger under the second. I have seen what such things do to a man, especially when he's still as young as your friend. Tell me what I want to know," he repeated, "or the ranger will end his life in a dungeon with Teonvan and his lieutenants. Even if he were to survive this evening, you wouldn't recognise him anymore should you see him again, trust me."

Legolas stared at the grey haired man, but before he could answer, a soft, almost inaudible voice interrupted him, causing both his and Glamir's head to turn into the direction of the men at the door.
"Don't … do it." Aragorn did not raise his head that was lolling to the side, but his voice was amazingly clear. "Do … not … tell…"

Teonvan's fist connected with the young man's head and cut off the words, and the ranger's head fell forward, leaving Legolas to pray that he had finally lost consciousness. The elf shot the brown haired man an acid look that should have burned a hole through his middle and turned his eyes back to Glamir.
"If I tell you what you want to know, what will happen to my friend?"

"Nothing," Glamir shrugged. "Teonvan will take him back to your cell."

"And I am supposed to believe that?" Legolas asked scornfully.

"You don't have any other choice, I'm afraid," the man smiled triumphantly. "You will have to trust me."

"Trust you?!" the elf exclaimed, looking as if the man had asked him to hop around the room and imitate a chicken. Glamir stared back at him while Teonvan looked as if he had received an unexpected gift only to be deprived of it again, and finally Legolas nodded slowly. "Alright," he bowed his head slightly. "Alright. I will tell you what you want to know, but I want your word that the ranger is taken back to the cell and left alone."

"You have it," Glamir agreed without hesitation. "As I said, he is none of my concern."

"But, sir!" Teonvan exclaimed. "I…"

"You will follow orders, Captain," Glamir interrupted him, his voice sharp as steel. "Take the prisoner back to the cell. Now."

"Yes, sir," Teonvan ground out after a moment, a fearful expression flickering over his face at the other's warning words.

Legolas gave the brown haired man only a fleeting glance before he looked back at Glamir, eyes hard and cold.
"If you break your word and my friend is harmed in any way, I will never tell you all you want to know, no matter what you do. I will die rather than give you all the information, that I swear by the Valar and Ilúvatar himself."

The small man merely nodded at the fair haired elf, an unreadable expression on his face, and Teonvan gave both of them a murderous look and spun on his heel, striding into the direction of the door that stood slightly ajar.
"Come!" he barked at the two guards who exchanged a quick look and followed the man out of the door, dragging the unresponsive ranger after them.

The remaining guard closed the door and reassumed his post next to the wooden door, and Glamir walked calmly back to the long table and sat down again, taking up the freshly sharpened quill and righting the inkwell until it stood perfectly aligned with the roll of parchment.
"Alright, Master Elf. Let's start, shall we?"

Legolas tore his eyes away from the closed door and slowly redirected his gaze to the small man sitting on his wooden chair, looking so content and pleased that it made him feel sick. He briefly closed his eyes and sent a fervent prayer to Eru Ilúvatar that Glamir would keep his word and that Aragorn would not be harmed further.

After a moment he opened his eyes again, a calm, emotionless expression in their silver-blue depths, and began to speak.

That did it, Elrohir thought in mounting fury. He had been patient until now, hadn't he? He had been patient, he had been reasonable, he had been controlled, he had been sympathetic, he had been kind, and how was he being repaid?

The younger twin whirled around and let the brush he had been using to groom his horse fall to the ground, indignation and real anger warring on his face.
"Celylith!" he spat, grey eyes nearly boring a hole into the silver haired elf's back. "Either you stop it or I will!"

The younger elf raised his head and turned around, clearly confused, his own brush freezing in mid-air.
"Pardon me?"

"Stop it!" Elrohir repeated darkly, giving him a very convincing rendition of his father's look. "Now, before I lose what is left of my composure!"

Celylith carefully raised both his hands in front of him, trying to decide whether or not Elrohir was finally losing his mind. Come to think about it, he wouldn't be surprised in the slightest.
"Stop what, mellon nín? I am not doing anything!"

"Not you," Elrohir shook his head curtly, his eyes wandering over to the white horse the silver haired elf was currently brushing. "That … that thing! I will kill it if it doesn't stop it, I swear by all the Valar that I will!"

The other elf was about to ask what Rashwe had done now, but the words died on his lips when he looked at the horse's face on which a puzzling mix of satisfaction and innocence could be seen. For a moment, Celylith thought he was imagining things, but then the moon broke through the clouds and he saw that he had been correct: There was a small piece of cloth hanging out of the horse's mouth. His eyes wandered over to Elrohir and the rather large hole in the back of the twin's tunic, and when the pieces fell into place his eyes grew wide and the corners of his mouth began to twitch slightly.

"Don't," Elrohir advised him darkly, dividing his look between the horse and his friend now. "Laugh and you'll regret it."

"I would never, my lord!" Celylith exclaimed, doing his best not to start chuckling. "This is a very grave situation indeed."

Elrohir scowled a last time at the other elf before he gave his horse a small pat and sent it off to look for some patches of grass that had survived the frost. The twin's horse disappeared quickly, apparently more than happy to escape Rashwe's presence.
"I have done nothing to it, and yet it hates me!" he complained. "Why??"

"Well," his twin's voice remarked from behind him, "That might be because you proposed to leave it to the goblins back in Legolas' cursed tunnel system, what was its name again?"

"Nogrodrim," Celylith supplied helpfully.

"Yes, Nogrodrim," Elladan nodded, stepping next to his brother and giving the horse a weary glance. "And perhaps you should stop calling Rashwe 'it'."

"It's an 'it'. If there was ever a horse that was an 'it', it is Rashwe," Elrohir protested darkly and gathered his bags he had put next to a snow-covered boulder when they had unloaded the horses. "Don't try to appease it, brother. It hates you too. It also hates Celylith, but I think it's afraid of Glorfindel."

"Nonsense," Elladan and Celylith said simultaneously.

"I do not think Rashwe is afraid of anything," Celylith added and gave the white horse a careful pat, quickly withdrawing his hand when the animal turned its head and gave him a dark look. "Even though I have to admit that he very likely really hates me." Just like he hated Rashwe, he added inwardly as he stepped back and returned the brush to the saddlebags. That was, however, something he would never openly admit in front of aforementioned horse. He was neither stupid nor suicidal, after all.

With a last contemptuous look at the three young elves the horse in question all but threw back its head and slowly and majestically stalked off, doubtlessly in search of something or someone else it could torment. Elrohir watched Rashwe disappear through the five trees that were the only shelter they had been able to find, shaking his head darkly.

"This horse," he finally said when the animal was safely out of ear-shot, "is insane. I honestly do not know what Legolas sees in it."

"Neither do I," Celylith shook his head. "But if the prince loves it, who am I to disagree?"

"Every sane person would disagree," Elladan shook his head as well as they walked the few yards over to where Glorfindel had lit a small campfire. "If it were given the chance, it would kill us, I'm sure about it."

"With the greatest of pleasure," Elrohir agreed. "And it ripped my shirt! That demon really tried to eat me – again!"

"It's your own fault," Glorfindel shook his head as the three young ones sat down heavily next to the merrily burning fire. "Stop antagonising it and it will leave you alone."

Elrohir merely snorted.
"Since when do demons leave you alone when you are polite to them?"

Glorfindel did not answer and merely looked at the two brothers and their Silvan friend, worry and anxiety warring in his chest. The three of them looked horrible, and if they were still in this condition when he brought them back home, Elrond would indeed kill him. All of them had dark rings under their eyes that were nearly as black as the twins' hair, and Glorfindel was sure that it was only fear and nervousness that kept them going. Both Elrond's sons and young Celylith wouldn't stop until they had found Aragorn and Legolas, alive or dead. If the latter was the case, they wouldn't stop until they had killed their murderers.

They had been travelling for eight days now, and it had been four days since they had found the camp and the clue Aragorn had left them. They had made very good time, and if they continued at this pace and direction, they would reach the Sea of Rhûn in about two days.

The golden haired elf lord shook his head darkly. Yes, they had made good progress until now, but the thing that was beginning to drive even him to insanity was that they didn't know for sure if they were even going into the right direction. The conviction that they had interpreted the small rune Estel had carved into the tree correctly faded with every step their horses took and that didn't bring them closer to another piece of proof that the young ranger and the elven prince had been in this part of Arda. Glorfindel sighed softly. They might just as well be in Ithilien, for they had found no sign of the humans who had taken them captive.

The blond elf had completely forgotten about his three companions, and so he was rather startled when a hand touched his forearm and he looked up into a pair of grey eyes that looked so much like Elrond's that he really thought his friend to be here for a moment.
"I have never known you to lose hope, my friend," Elrohir said softly, his eyes large and pleading in the firelight. "Please tell me my eyes deceive me."

Glorfindel raised his head and smiled at the younger twin, trying to banish these dark thoughts from his mind. He knew that his companions were adults and centuries, no, millennia past their respective majorities, but he also knew that they looked to him for guidance now, and be it only out of habit. He was not only the Seneschal and Captain of Imladris' forces, he had also been the twins' teacher for the better part of their lives.

"They do deceive you, Elrohir," he told the younger elf. "I have not lost hope, and do not intend to either. Yet my mind is troubled, I will not lie to you about that."

"All our minds are troubled," Elladan said softly. "I had hoped to find something that might prove our suspicions true, that would show us that we are not following an imaginary trail, but…"

"There is nothing," Celylith finished the older twin's sentence quietly. "No trace, no sign, no witnesses – no hope."

"Wrong," Glorfindel shook his head firmly. "There is hope, there is always hope. Until we have found their bodies they are still alive, remember that, young one. I think our best chance is to continue south-east until we reach that city the villagers told us about, the one close to the Ered Dhuir. What was its name again – Baredlen?"

The others nodded slowly. Yesterday evening they had more or less stumbled over a small settlement that had been nearly invisible in the falling darkness because the snow had piled up so high that the buildings had nearly disappeared under the white substance. There had been no more than five families living in the village, and all of them had been so afraid of them that it had been a miracle any of them had even spoken a coherent sentence.

Amazingly enough, Celylith mused, he hadn't had the feeling that the villagers had been afraid of them specifically, even though it had been clear that the humans had expected them to turn all of them into toads or something like that. The elf shook his head darkly. There were a lot of men who believed the rumours that all elves possessed and practised dark magic, and these had apparently been no exceptions.

But it hadn't seemed to him as if they had been afraid of them because they were elves, but rather as if they were used to being afraid of anyone who came into their village. It might have been his imagination, but he thought that the fear on the humans' faces had even grown when they had told them the name of their lord's residence, and before they had been able to learn the name of their liege himself the man whom they had been speaking to had closed the door in their faces.

"Do you think they spoke the truth, my lord?" the silver haired elf finally asked softly, looking at Glorfindel. "They were afraid."

"No," the elf lord shook his head. "They were not afraid. They were terrified. And not of us."

"Well, they don't exactly live in the safest of places," Elladan interjected. "It is only understandable that they mistrust any who come into their village."

"That may be true," Celylith nodded. "But can we trust them?"

"Why should they lie about something like that?" Elladan retorted. "They merely told us the name of their lord's city and where to find it, that is all."

"I agree," Glorfindel said quietly. "They might have been afraid or even terrified, but they had no reason to lie to us. Perhaps the Lord of Baredlen can help us find our friends."

"And if he cannot?" Elrohir asked softly.

"If he cannot," the older elf shrugged, "We will keep looking until we find them."

The three younger elves nodded silently and stared into the flames, and Glorfindel bowed his head slightly and took a deep breath.
"Eat something and take some rest. We all need some sleep or we won't be of any use to us or to Estel and the prince in the next few days. I will take first watch."

"And will conveniently forget to wake any of us for the next watch," Elrohir shook his head with a small smile. "You have used this trick too many times in the past, my friend. We are no longer elflings you need to protect and shelter at all cost, my Lord Glorfindel. I will take first watch."

"I do not think you to be elflings, Elrohir," the golden haired elf shook his head. "You are warriors, and good ones at that. Yet you and your brother are also my best friend's sons and have been my friends for many years. Allow an old elf to be a little over-protective."

"And let's not forget that that's a trait two elves who shall remain nameless are also more than familiar with," Celylith interjected slyly. "I am sure that I've heard Estel complain about your over-protectiveness once or twice."

"Did you now?" Elladan arched a dark eyebrow. "I really think we need to have a discussion with that reckless brother of ours. A very long, very serious discussion."

"I agree," Elrohir nodded. "And after that discussion, we will have another one with Legolas. And after that, we will drag them to Lórien to grandmother and ask her to put them on top of one of the giant mellyrn and take away the ropes and ladders."

"Are you mad?" Celylith asked, almost choking on a piece of lembas. "They would fall off and break every bone in their bodies."

"Hmm," the younger twin made thoughtfully. "What about the dungeons back in Mirkwood?"

"No," Elladan shook his head. "There might be a cave-in – not that the palace is a cave, of course," he added quickly when he saw the wood-elf's murderous look. "What about their rooms in Imladris?"

"Nay," Glorfindel grinned. "They would try to escape over the balconies, lose their balance, fall into the Bruinen and drown."

"Wood-elves do not 'lose their balance'," Celylith informed the three other elves icily.

"Of course not," Glorfindel nodded with a small sparkle in his deep blue eyes. "You have to remind me to tell you about that time long before either of you were born when King Oropher and his son visited. The dear Lord Thranduil did far more than 'lose his balance', trust me."

"The king?" Celylith asked, eyes round and unbelieving.

"Oh yes," Glorfindel nodded, but before he could begin to elaborate he remembered the role he himself had played that evening – and the look on the High King Gil-galad's face – and closed his mouth with a snap. Some things weren't meant for a broader public. "But that will have to wait for another time. Elrohir, you have the first watch."

Before either of the three could say anything, the elf lord had disappeared in the darkness, no doubt looking for his pack he had left with Asfaloth. Elladan looked at his brother and friend and slowly shook his head, looking like a person who had, for the umpteenth time, come close to a goal only to have it snatched back time and again.
"He always does that."

"Sometimes I think that the whole balrog-business has addled his mind," Elrohir nodded darkly.

"Well, yours are addled anyway," Celylith snorted softly and stood up. Brushing off the snow that clung to his clothing, he took up his blanket and eyed the large tree next to the fire. A moment later, he was sitting on a sturdy branch, grinning down at the two Noldor beneath him. "Wake me in a few hours, will you? And don't let Rashwe bite you!"

The silver haired head disappeared in the darkness of the shadows the branches cast and was accompanied by a small snicker, and the twins looked at each other, the same outrage and annoyance on their identical faces.
"Remind me again why you insisted that we take that wood-elf with us," the older twin demanded to know.

"I?" Elrohir asked appalled. "I? It was you who got … tangled up with him!"

"But you invited him!" Elladan retorted, getting to his feet as well. He quickly began to climb the tree, but climbed higher than aforementioned wood-elf when a low, unwilling growl could be heard from Celylith's branch. He finally found a suitable spot and grinned at his younger brother. "You didn't think I would stay on the ground while that demon-horse is on the loose, did you?"

"But you leave me here alone?!"

"Aye," Elladan shrugged and leaned back against the tree. "You can look after yourself."

Another snicker could be heard from Celylith, and a second later silence settled over the camp that was only interrupted by Elrohir's low mumbling. After the younger twin had told the fire what exactly he would do to his brother and friend once they stooped to coming down from their stupid tree, he fell silent as well, his thoughts quickly straying to his brother and friend.

He was going out of his mind with worry for both of them, but the greater part of his anxious musings was fixed on his younger brother. They knew that the men had wanted Legolas alive, after all, for whatever reason. Aragorn, however, was merely an addition, and these humans might not need – or want – his brother alive. What if they killed him, what if they killed both of them before they could reach them? What if Elladan and he were once again too late?

Elrohir shook his head quickly. They would not be too late. They would not return to Mirkwood with Legolas' body, or home with Estel's. It would not happen. They had Glorfindel with them, the warrior who had slain a balrog and had faced the Witch-king of Angmar, and Celylith wasn't to be trifled with when angry either. They would not fail, they must not fail. They would find that city, and there would be someone who could tell them something of interest.

Because otherwise his father would strangle them, Lord Thranduil would strangle them, and he would be stuck here with his companions and that demon-horse. Elrohir shuddered. No, that would not do at all.

It was already past midnight when the door leading to the small, dark cell was thrown open and Legolas was shoved inside, stumbling forward until he hit the frail wooden construction of the cot opposite the door. The elf didn't move until the door had swung shut again and the darkness once again filled the small space.

Legolas shook his head to clear it of the last shreds of the grey clouds that threatened to overcome his senses while he waited for his eyes to get used to the darkness. Those past few hours had been the longest of his life, he was entirely sure about that. Even despite what he had told Glamir, he had of course not told the small man the truth about Mirkwood's defences – or at least not the full truth. He had needed to divulge some small things to cover the greater lies and had tried to stay as close to the truth as possible, lest he got confused and tangled up in his own lies.

All in all, it had been like dancing with a drunken mountain troll – you mustn't let your guard down even once or you could end up as a wet patch on the floor. There had been several times when Glamir hadn't believed him and had let the guards "refresh" his memory, and even more times when he had, at least for a second, forgotten what he had just told the man. Legolas inwardly shook his head. He was no councilman or something similar after all, and he wasn't exceptionally skilled at spinning tales.

Still, Legolas knew that he had only bought them some time – and not much at that. Glamir was apparently not a military man and knew little to nothing about tactics, defences and strategies, but anyone who had served longer than two months in any army Legolas could think of would not need long to realise that what he had told the small man was nonsense. No, he thought despairingly. He gave them till about dawn today before they would realise that he had lied to them, and then…

At this point, his eyes adjusted enough for him to see the outlines of his cell, and all these thoughts faded from his mind when his eyes came to rest on a crumpled figure in one of the corners no more than five feet to his left.
"Strider!" he breathed and began to crawl over to the body of his friend, inwardly praising the Valar that the men had bound his hands in front of him this time. He finally reached the human's side and, after a second's hesitation, reached out with his hands to turn him over.

Even though he was prepared for what he would see, he was still shocked at the sight in front of him. Now that he was up close, he realised that the wounds that covered his friend's body were indeed holes; nearly perfectly round, not so little holes. That … man must have used a spike or something like that, he thought horrified while he placed his fingers against the young man's throat. He let out a sigh of relief when his trembling hands found a pulse, a pulse that was far too fast and weak in his opinion.

An all-encompassing helplessness washed over him as he examined the man further. Aragorn's skin was clammy and cold to the touch, and his breathing sounded laboured and not normal at all. The elf swallowed hard. A Elbereth, how much he wished a healer to be here right now! He would even take Hithrawyn right now, or even Lord Elrond who would surely kill him for allowing his youngest son to get hurt like this – he would take anyone or anything that would be able to help Aragorn. He was no healer, and he simply did not know what to do. The young ranger had lost too much blood, that much he could see himself, but what could he do for him in a small, damp cell without herbs or even water?

Legolas shook his head in annoyance after a second and forced himself to concentrate. What he did not need to do now was to panic, that was clear. The fair haired elf shortly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to think of where he was and what would happen to Aragorn if he could not help him. Maybe, a small, dark voice in his head spoke up, it was even better this way. Maybe it was better if Estel died before Girion found out that he had been deceived, before Teonvan came back and continued where he had left off…

With an almost violent shake of his head Legolas returned to reality and began to rip strips out of his own shirt, burning with shame at his own thought. No, it would not be better, and there was still the chance that they escaped, somehow – though he truly could not see how. Still, he would not just let the ranger die just like that, he thought fiercely. If Aragorn wanted to leave him so soon, he would have to fight him every step of the way, because he would not allow that stubborn human to leave him just like that!

There wasn't much of his shirt left to rip to pieces anyway, and so he had soon a small pile of ragged, makeshift bandages next to him. For a moment, Legolas didn't know where to start, but then he decided with a small, trembling smile that might have developed into panic had he allowed it to that it didn't matter. He didn't have any water anyway, so cleaning the cuts was out of the question. Yesterday they had received water in the morning, so that meant he had several more hours before he could even think about really doing something.

With another heavy sigh he folded a piece of cloth and pressed it against one of the wounds that had started bleeding again when he had moved the man. Aragorn did not stir, something that Legolas greeted with a short prayer of thanks. The last thing he needed now was to cause his friend any additional pain. The elf quickly worked on, but he ran out of bandages long before he had even tended half the injuries. All he could do was bandage the worst of the wounds and pray that those he couldn't bind wouldn't open again, because he really didn't know what he would do then.

Far too quickly he applied the last bandage and sat back on his haunches, deciding with some trepidation that, if anything, Aragorn looked even worse than before. The few bloodstained bandages only served to emphasise the rest of his injuries, and he somehow looked even paler than he had looked in the beginning – and that could simply not be good.
He decided that lying on the damp stone floor was another thing that could not be good for a human after losing so much blood, and so Legolas gathered the man in his arms and pulled him backwards until his back touched the wall. He winced when his bare skin touched the damp stones, but the cold also numbed his bruises and abrasions, something for which he was rather thankful. Glamir had indeed got rather impatient during the end.

The elf sighed softly and brushed a strand of dark hair away from his friend's face. This was it. He didn't know what to do, he simply didn't know a way out of this prison. If they had had the chance to escape earlier, it had faded completely now. Aragorn wasn't in the condition to go anywhere, let alone fight if necessary, and he couldn't leave the ranger behind.

"Oh Estel," he whispered softly to his friend in the Old Tongue. "How do we do it? Our fathers are right, aren't they? As soon as we leave the palace or your father's house, something terrible befalls us. I swear by Elbereth's stars that I will never again insist on going anywhere alone if we get out of this. You were right, I should have taken an escort with me; I shouldn't have gone alone…"

For a long time the elven prince merely continued speaking softly to his human friend, talking about various mishaps they had already survived and about anything that came to his mind, when, about three hours after he had been brought back to the cell, he lost his patience. What would he do if Aragorn could not be roused, he asked himself panicky, what if the ranger slipped into an unnatural sleep? From what he had heard from the twins such things happened far more frequently to humans than to elves, and if that was the case here, Aragorn would most certainly die. He felt the man's forehead once more, frowning in concern when he felt an unnatural heat there, a heat he could not explain to himself.

"Estel!" he spoke sharply. "Will you listen to me now?! You have to return to me, I am getting … bored, yes that is it! Do you want me to stay the rest of the night here alone, in the dark? Please, wake up, my friend. I could use some company now! Strider! Awake!"

He did not really expect the man to react, for he had been trying for hours to get him to wake up, and so he was quite startled when he first heard a small moan and then felt how the still body in his arms began to stir as his friend's mind struggled to return to consciousness. Legolas shifted slightly to the side to be able to look into the man's face, just in time to see his friend's eyes open slowly.

Aragorn didn't move or even blink for a long time, even though he stiffened instantly when he felt the proximity of another person. His grey eyes were frighteningly vacant and emotionless, but an expression of alarm and fear was quickly beginning to spread on his face.
"Estel?" Legolas asked quickly, looking at his friend worriedly. "Telcontar?"

The softly spoken Quenya word seemed to calm the man slightly, but his head did not turn into the direction of the elf's voice and his eyes continued to wander over the dark room.
"Laiqualassë?" he whispered, his voice so soft that Legolas could hardly understand him. Even despite the pain that clouded his mind, he remembered that it had seemed important to speak Quenya, even though he truly couldn't remember why. "Narelyë … sinomë?"

The elf tightened his hold on his friend and nodded quickly, resting his chin on the top of Aragorn's head, hoping that to be a spot that didn't hurt the man.
"Nányë aselyë, meldonya," he told the ranger in his most soothing voice. Noticing the way the man's eyes darted through the dark room, he added quickly, "Avániës, áva rucë."

Aragorn's body seemed to relax instantly, only to stiffen again when the pain made itself known. A second later full recollection of what had happened set in and he tried to turn around in the elf's grasp, freezing in mid-motion when his body let him know what exactly it thought of such folly.
"You … you didn't, did you?" he demanded to know, using all his strength to turn his head and look Legolas in the face. "You did not … tell them?"

The elf smiled slightly, a faintly mischievous sparkle in his eyes the man couldn't see in the darkness that filled the room.
"I did." A frown flittered over the man's face, and so he quickly added, "I told them what they wanted to hear; I did not tell them the truth."

"They will know," Aragorn muttered, trying to suppress a shiver. "They will know."

"Nay, my friend," Legolas lied to the man. "I made it convincing enough. I merely … confused a few things. How many warriors we have, where the guard posts are, how to get into the palace – things like that." He grinned slightly, hoping to put his friend at ease. "If they plan to attack Mirkwood with this information, they will all march straight to the Enchanted River and fall in – if they're not eaten by spiders first, that is. I think I forgot to mention that they have quite a few nests in that area."

The man tried to grin as well, but another shiver raced through him, wiping all traces of mirth off his face in an instant. Legolas pulled the man even closer and plucked up all the courage he had to ask his friend the one question he had been dreading ever since he had found him.
"Estel," he began softly, "Teonvan, he…" He trailed off, took a deep breath and tried again. "Did he … did he touch you?"

For a few moments, it was silent, and Legolas even thought that Aragorn had lost consciousness again, but then the man moved his head in a minute headshake.
"No," he retorted quietly. "I lost consciousness for a few minutes in the strange room with that small man, and came to when they threw me in here. After that everything gets a little bit … fuzzy." The man fell silent for a second, and Legolas rested his head against the wall and said a prayer of thanks, about the fifth or sixth this evening. "He was very much looking forward to it though," the young ranger added faintly. "He has a rather … detailed imagination, I'll grant him that."

"Not for long," Legolas ground out. "I will kill him."

"Get in line," Aragorn muttered weakly and closed his eyes. "I have a certain aversion to him myself."

The elf saw the ranger's eyes close and was about to shake him gently when he remembered the other's injuries, and so he merely tapped him on the head with his bound hands.
"Don't go to sleep, Estel. You are running a fever, I don't know why either."

"It must be that liquid Teonvan is so fond of," the dark haired man answered without opening his eyes. "A rather … horrid brew – burnt quite a lot every time."

It took Legolas a few seconds to fully comprehend what Aragorn had just said, but when he did he had to consciously unclench his jaw to stop himself from grinding his teeth into dust. That … that man had first put holes into his friend and had then… The elf stopped himself just there. There was no reason to follow that train of thought further; it would help neither Aragorn nor himself if he lost his temper now.

"I am so sorry," he whispered, resting his chin once again on the other's dark hair. "I should have told them sooner. I am so very sorry, Estel."

"They wouldn't have believed you," Aragorn retorted practically. "Had you told them right away, they wouldn't have believed a single word."

Legolas frowned darkly, glad that the darkness hid his features and the man was facing away from him. He wasn't so sure about that – besides, they would still not believe him. Girion might be a madman, but he was no fool. The elf was sure that the dark haired lord's subjects were too afraid to wake him in the night, but tomorrow morning he would read Glamir's report and then…

The elf realised a few moments later that Aragorn had fallen silent and tapped him on the head again.
"Strider! Are you awake?"

The man didn't answer but merely moved his head, having neither the strength nor the inclination to move more muscles than he had to. Apart from the fact that most of them were slightly … perforated … at the moment, he thought with a small inward chuckle, he was much too cold to move away from Legolas whose body emitted a rather comforting warmth.

"Then why are your eyes closed?" Legolas prodded him gently.

Under any other circumstances, the man would have made a witty, sarcastic comment, but now he was too cold and in too much pain to come up with one.
"Because then I can pretend that it's not dark. I … I don't like small, dark spaces. Not since … Eskadol."

The elf smiled ruefully. That was something they had in common.
"I know you don't. I am not overly fond of them either." The man did not answer and Legolas felt another shiver race through his cold frame, which, in addition to the building heat that emanated from his forehead, was enough to multiply his worry tenfold. "Rest, Estel. You will need your strength. Just lean against me and keep your eyes closed. I will not leave you."

Legolas felt a small vibration against his chest, and it took him a moment to realise that Aragorn was laughing soundlessly.
"And where would you go?" the young man muttered exhaustedly. "There's still …the fire-breathing dragon…"

Despite everything, the fair haired elf smiled and gently touched the other's closed eyes.
"Yes, of course. The fire-breathing dragon. Rest, reckless human. I will keep watch."

Aragorn moved his head again and silence fell over the small cell, and Legolas leaned once again back against the damp stone wall, his thoughts in turmoil. Aragorn was far too weak to withstand another "meeting" with Teonvan – and that "meeting" would come, there was nothing he could do to prevent that. He had bought them some time, yes, but he had no way to use it in any way, which was perhaps the most frustrating thing of all.

Some time later, Aragorn fell asleep again, and Legolas saw no reason to try and keep him awake. It appeared that the ranger hadn't suffered a serious head injury, and so he didn't see why he should deprive him of his rest and force him to stare at the dark walls of their prison. Besides, it was better if he slept than be aware and endure such kind of pain.

When he was imagining for the thirty-seventh time what he would do to Teonvan if he ever got his hands on him, he heard something very peculiar: The sounds of someone nearing their cell. It were definitely human footsteps, but they were quite a lot softer than the guards'. The man seemed to walk past their door, only to return a few seconds later and stop in front of it, and the next thing the elf heard was the rattling of what had to be a bunch of keys.

Legolas unconsciously pulled his sleeping friend closer to him, trying to push himself in front of him to shield him from view. Whoever was unlocking the door right now couldn't be a friend, and he did not intend to let these people hurt Aragorn further. If they wanted to get to the man, they would have to go through him – which they probably would, but that was entirely beside the point.

A second later a key clicked in the lock and the door swung open, revealing a sight Legolas had not reckoned with at all.

TBC...

mellon nín (S.) - my friend
mellyrn (pl. of mallorn) (S.) - the large golden-leaved trees of Lothlórien
Narelyë sinomë (Q.) - Are you here?
Nányë aselyë, meldonya (Q.) - I am with you, my friend
Avániës, áva rucë (Q.) - He is gone, don`t be afraid




See? It's only a little cliffy, nothing too bad. And it's only a week till the next post, isn't that great? *ducks a shower of sharp, potentially lethal objects* Tsk, tsk, tsk, you guys need a lot more self-restraint... *g* So, the next chapter will be here in a week, in which we see who is visiting our dear heroes and a lot more! Reviews, as always, make me exceedingly happy! So: Review? Please!

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Additional A/N:

Isadora2 - Hmm, ja, die meisten sind aufgetaucht, aber ein paar sind auch verschwunden, never to be seen again. *g* Man muss ff.net doch einfach lieben, nech? Einen Versuch war das ganze auf jeden Fall wert, auch wenn's nicht so ganz geklappt hat... Du hast "The Passion of Christ" gesehen? Das ist ein Film, in den du mich noch nicht mal gefesselt mit zehn Pferden 'reinbekommen wuerdest! Was fuer eine Branche ist denn das? Und wie komme ich da 'rein? Ich liebe Filme und ich liebe London, das waere ja richtig was fuer mich! *g*
Deana - You cringed? Well, I have done _something_ right then, haven't I? *evil grin* And I am very glad to hear that my decriptions are very descriptive - they're suppposed to be that, so... *g* I'm afraid Legolas won't meet our friends the spikes, at least not in the next few chapters. Sorry about that. *g*
Aratfeniel - LOL, you're right! It's all about the past - they all need to get themselves a good psychiatrist! And how did you know that the healers would have a hard time? You're psychic! *g*
Ellyrianna - Uhm, what am I doing to you? I don't really know, but you really shouldn't huggle Aragorn too hard. I don't think he's up to it. I really hope that I didn't kill you, I assure you it was not my intention. And I really can't tell you why you love Legolas so much. That's between you and him, I think. *g* But I can happily admit that I like stubble as well! *g* It's nice to hear that you're enjoying the torture. There a little more to come, too!
Snow-Glory - Nope, elves don't like the dark too much, do they? Absolutely undestandable, too if you ask me. The city isn't very nice either, you're right. *g* But you really don't have to worry: They will live to tell the twins about their latest foolishness - although I am not making any promises as to in what shape they'll be...
Sadie Elfgirl - Uhm, it's not a compliment? Well, you could have fooled me... And Aragorn never did anything to me - except being so adorably stupid, that is. it's his own fault, you see? Glad you understand, though, I hate brown myself. I truly can't see why the Wood-elves like it so much. *shakes head* You don't like Glamir? Well, I like him, in an evil, twisted kind of way... *g* LOL, Girion is indded rather modest, isn't he? I mean, he could have wanted Mirkwood as well... I'll see what I can do about his horrible fate though! And I COULD give Teonvan to you guys in the end! But I guess that would be cruel and unusual punishment...
CrazyLOTRfan - *g* I'd have been happy if we'd spent English class with playing ping-pong. But no, we had to study grammar and read Shakespeare and things like that... *g* Uhm, I have to admit that I don't really know what the muddy brown liquid is. Something like really salty iodine, I guess - minus the disinfecting properties... *evil grin* And I agree: The twins and Co. won't be overly happy to see them - then again, you assume that THEY are in a shape to fret over the two of them... *evil grin* Don't worry: Legolas will be quite mad about Aragorn's wounds. Quite mad indeed. *g*
TrinityTheSheDevil - Sorry, I really think it didn't show up. And may I tell you something? You are really, REALLY scary. That grin looked quite evil. *nods* It really did. And the cofetti did nothing to change that impression, either... So you saw Hildalgo? I don't think I'll see it. I don't like horses or Cowboy-movies overly much, to be honest, and I usually don't watch movies only because of a specific actor. Not even because of Viggo Mortensen. *g*
Gwyn - Uhm, I really hate to say that, but we've had lots of elf torture already? You know, chapter 15 and all that? I don't think Legolas or Aragorn will have another big torture scene in this story, sorry... But I really can't write more of them. I don't like writing them at all, and sooner or later I'd run out of ideas... *g*
Firnsarnien - Yeah, I kinda figured that already. You ARE slightly obsessed with Legolas after all... *g* I agree, it would be only fair if Teonvan died like that, but I don't think I'd be able to come up with something much worse. No, I WOULD be able to, but I don't think I'd be able to put it into this story. It IS PG-13 after all... And yes, you have to wait at least till chapter 25 for the reunion, sorry. There's no way I can make it any sooner... And I know what you mean, I got about 120 review alerts for the 45 or something reviews there really were. It was very, very annoying. *g*
Teddybear888 - Well, thank you! It's very nice to know that you like this little story so far! Hmm, about the torture... Well, I don't really know. Some just ... comes to me, I guess. Some is something I've read in some history books (you wouldn't believe what people are willing to do to each other), and some aren't really my ideas, but my friend's or my sister's. They are quite evil, too. Thank you a lot for the review!
Sirithiliel - *g* Great it all become a little clearer. And believe me, I am not about to complain about a late review since I am contantly late myself! *g*
Tychen - Well, to be honest, he is ASKING for it. I don't know why, perhaps he's stupid, or masochistic or something, but he's so adorable! He's clearly asking for it, isn't he? I'm sure the hints were very subtle, but when you write the story and have known for ages how everythings's going to be, you find it hard to believe that everyone else DOESN'T know what is going to happen. Well, I find it hard anyway. *g* I think I've read a chapter or two of that fic, but I found it too Legolas-centric. I don't like unfairness. *g* And I am sorry to say that this was the last real torture in this fic, at least for Aragorn or Legolas. Sorry. *g*
Someone Reading - I know what you mean. It's hard to find someone who can speak Sindarin. *g* It's also very nice to hear that you liked the chapter - and the torture, of course. And I indeed had to hurt him, because my alter ego made me. She's really evil, I'm telling you... Hmm, about that little sentence... I hate to say it, but I think it wasn't correct. You mixed up Quenya and Sindarin. "Linte" is Quenya, "lint" is the plural of the adjective "linta", meaning "swift". You need an adverb though. So, in Quenya the whole thing would be something like "Á tecë lintav" or "Teca lintav", depending on which form of the imperative you wish to use. In Sindarin it would be something like "Teitho lagor" or even "Teitho lint", even though I have no idea where the movie-people got that one from. Derived it from Queya, most likely. There's a little problem though, namely that it's, strictly speaking, an adjective, not an adverb. The safest bet would probably be "Teitho lim", since that's definitely an adverb. And all that's only correct if, essentially, you wanted to say "Write quickly". If it was supposed to be a comparative, not an adverb, I'll have to do the whole think again.*g* Huge lecture again, sorry. *sheepish smile*
Elvendancer - LOL, I think you're right. Girion and Teonvan are most likely very happy right about now... Aragorn and Legolas wouldn't really agree, I think, but what do THEY know, eh? *g*
Strider's Girl - Oh, don't worry, we're all becoming a little like Gollum, I think. Perhaps LOTR causes schizophrenia? *shudders* Scary thought... I thought you'd like the ranger torture though. I would have been quite suprised if you hadn't, actually. *g* LOL, I like that idea! That would serve Teonvan right! And I imagine that too, btw: Aragorn screaming like a girl and running away from us. I don't know why he'd do that, but still. *g*
Aromene - Well, to be honest, Legolas isn't really in the position to do something stupid, being in that cell and all. But I bet he'd LOVE to do something stupid... *g* I'm sorry I didn't post sooner, and hope the wait wasn't too horrible. *g*
Narina Nightfall - *g* You're not horrible. I think of such things all the time - wait a minute, that could mean that we're both horrible! *g* And I know: The Evil Dudes always wait for the wounds to heal before they go and inflict new ones. *shakes head* They're evil, so what can one expect. *blinks* Oookay, I see. His hair colour surpasses every other colour. Riiiiight. You're sure you didn't forget to take your pills or something? *g* Glad to hear you liked the torture. I'm sometimes afraid to overdo it. Too much torture can destroy a story. LOL, the only reason why my lecture get to the point is that I don't have enough time or space to answer properly here. Otherwise I'd drone on for hours! And I'm sorry, I'm quite sure you weren't right, even though I'm prepared to admit that the Sindarin word for Súlë means wind as well. But since that wasn't the meaning I was looking for... *trails off sadly* Sorry.
Lina - Uhm, I like your new outfit? Really, it's ...subtle. And ... green. Very ... camouflagy. *g* And I'm sure Aragorn appreciated the torch. Now that he has the Energizer batteries, what can go wrong? *winces* Oh, that was probably a really stupid thing to say, huh? *arches eyebrow* You're a fan of assymmetry? Well, I could have known, actually - but is it true? The thing with the scar, I mean? And ... *pats Éomer's back* I don't think the Rohirrim's entrance is boring! I think it's great! Don't worry, Éomer, you're doing a wonderful job! *huggles depressed Rohir*
Zam - *tries to imagine Zam with fairy wings* *fails miserably* Alriiiiight.... LOL, so Éomer joined the Empire, huh? Really, if we meet Luke and Han I'm leaving... *snickers* Uhm, to defend Aragorn, I don't think he forgot what species he is. It's just one of these I-grew-up-with-the-elves-thing, you know? Silly ranger. *shakes head* I'm very happy to see that Girion decided to leave Erebor alone. Conquering it just might have been a mistake... *g* Oh, the remote can do that? I didn't know that... *walks off looking for the 'Make Looks Kill Button' on her remote*
Karone Evertree - Indeed, indeed, what is the world coming to? O tempora, o mores... *evil grin* And I agree: In the end the evil guys must all die. I'm already working on it, trust me...
Stacee Phelps - Excuse me? That was barely any? I think that was plenty! You know, for me that was lots! I really, really hate writing torture and it takes me ages to write a bit, so I am very sorry, but there won't be much more in the future, at least not in this story and not for Aragorn or Legolas. Sorry, but it would take me too long. *g* And I'm rather surprised that you liked AEFAE so much; if I read it now I am constantly cringing! Literally...
Marbienl - Well, as you saw last chapter Girion wasn't too displeased about Reran's demise, which once again proves that he's an idiot. About the languages: I guess the twins' first language is indeed Sindarin, or rather Noldorin, which is a kind of dialect. Elrond's mother tongue would be Quenya, I guess, since his ancestors were mostly Noldorin and I guess they wouldn't have been too quick to start using Sindarin. But generally Sindarin was the Elvish language still spoken in the Third Age, at least in ME; Quenya was reserved for formal occasions. Hmmm, I'm sorry, but Estel won't really have time to lose it completely. Besides, a mental breakdown would just be a little but too inconvenient... *g* I have no idea what that liquid is though, I'm not a doctor. And no, my alter ego wouldn't be that evil. *g*
Suzi - Wow! Huge review! Thank you! *huggles* But speak no more! *holds up hand* I know how evil BT can be. They're just ... evil? *stupid grin* I know, I know, I need a larger vocabulary. I envy you, btw. Nothing new there, but I've always wanted to visit Runnymede. I've heard a lot about the college there. *wide eyes* Double chocolate chip chocolate sauce cookies and cream? Well, that does sound VERY interesting! We don't have these kinds of cookies here, and I am constantly missing them! And you're right, it was Saruman of course, but the Evil Dude doesn't know that. For him he's just from the South. LOL, Henry VIII. chopped off a lot of heads, didn't he? LOL, I like the "Plot Bunny Extermination Squad". It would be very useful, too. *g* And yes, of course I enjoy playing with you. I'm evil, remember? LOL, so Aragorn has RRS and RSD? That's bad, really - it's a miracle he's still alive! And yes, of course Aragorn has a point in this story! I mean, doesn't he always? Who would write a pointless story? *thinks of Mary-Sues* On second thought, ignore that question... And you're right, there just might be a little bit Glorfindel-Glamir interaction. No, there WILL be some. There will also be other interaction, but I'm not telling! I dont't think that the dragon is Drákon, btw, but I'll go and check just to be sure. *huggles again* Thanks for the huge review, and I'm looking forward to the pics!
Cosmic Castaway - *ducks knife* What do you mean, 'so called TBC'? They ARE TBC's! I mean, here's the next bit, see? Didn't you like the cliffy then? *innocently* But I admit that I'm evil and coldhearted. *sadly* It's the truth. I hope I didn't really kill you! *huggles*
Elenillor - *g* He would be indeed. Sarcasm is what makes life interesting, that's what I always say! *frowns* I didn't make you excited for the next chapter? I am clearly doing something wrong then - what about this one? Excited? I hope so, otherwise I really have to try harder... *evil grin*
Crystal-Rose15 - Ah, you managed to free yourself! Well done! *shakes hand* Congrats! And yes, you are definitely obsessed, but that's okay. There are far too few people obsessed with the twins and far too many with Legolas. Time to even the odds a little, hm? *g* LOL, yes indeed, Aragorn listened to the voice of reason for once. He may have one or two brain cells after all. And "Ow" about covers it, I think. *thinks about it* Yes, it does.
Nerfenherder - *g* It took me quite a long time to come up with that, btw. I needed quite some time till I'd thought of a reason for the bad guy not to kill Aragorn on the spot - glad you approve! *blushes* Well, thank you! It's great to hear that you liked the other stories as well - and who hasn't a crush on Estel? I mean, I would have one too of he existed - that's always the problem, isn't it? *sighs* Real life is so unfair... Anyway, I'm glad you like it. Thanks a lot for reviewing!
Nikara - Uhm, yes, I guess you could say that. I woudl imagine that hurt. *g* Yes, the twins are in here, and I am beginning to see that I'll have to put them in more often. People seem to like them. *evil grin* I can't imagine why, though.
Bailey - Yes, it will continue a little this chapter. Not so much though, since I really don't enjoy writing torture. I hate it, actually. And there won't be much for Legolas, sorry, but we had elf torture already. I have to be fair, right? But you're right, Girion most certainly needs a psychiatrist. Or two, what about that? *g*
Crippled Raven - You want the recipe to use it on your big brother? Well, I don't think that would be such a good idea... *backs away slowly* But really, it sounds as if your brother is just ... male? Just give him some time, he might mature a little - in a few years. God knows mine didn't. And if it makes you feel any better: I never was any good at it either. I couldn't calculate a vector if my life depended on it. I liked languages and history, but not Maths. *shudders* I hated it. Oh, and don't worry: Lots of people here call torture scenes nice or get fuzzy feelings while reading them. *shrugs* We're all insane here, after all. And I think you can safely say that Teonvan is more twisted than you. WAY more twisted, to be precise. I don't like him myself. Thanks a lot for the long review! *huggles*
Jazmin3 Firewing - Uhm ... well ... I'm sorry? I happen to like cliffies... I am also sorry that I didn't update sooner, I am just so busy at the moment. The thing is that I'm just not interested in the two papers, and I just don't want to do any research. But I have to! *wails* I don't wanna! Oh, and don't worry, I found another hiding spot. Inside our washing machine. It's a little bit cramped, but rather safe unless someone turns it on. *g*
Iverson - Yes, we are? You can admit it, you know. It's nothing to worry about. *g* And once again: Who says that the twins and Co. will rescue our intrepid duo? I mean, I said they'd arrive there, but I don't think I said anything about a rescue... *evil grin* And if course you can start a Not Insane Club if you want to. I mean, you wouldn't find many candidates for it here, but still... But denial is good. I love denial. Denial is my friend. If you needed proof that I am, in fact, insane, it's just presented itself. *g*
Jenihenpen - Hmm... with all their bits attached - I can do that I think. Minds not completely caved in - that could be difficult... *evil grin* But I'll see what I can do, don't worry. *blinks* I have been called evil, mean, sadistic, insane, mad, three fries short of a Happy Meal and many other things, but I don't think I've ever been called a Blue Meanie. I'll endeavour to take it as a compliment though! *g*
Elenora1 - *wide-eyed* I had YOU squirming? Well, that means quite a lot, methinks... *g* I can't stop you from squirming and holding your breath of course, but I can tell you that the evil lord won't find out who Legolas is for a while. Let's say, not till ... hmm, I think ch. 24. So, don't worry overly much yet, okay? And Glorfindel and Co. will arrive in ch. 23. Do you see a connection there? *evil grin* So, I hope you're a little calmer now... *imagines Real Life as a bear* Uhm, interesting comparison.... *g* Thanks a lot for reviewing, I really missed you! But I understand - Real LIfe can be a b****, right?
TrustingFriendship - Yes, to be honest I haven't quite figured out yet what to do with the Easterlings. I mean, I have, but I haven't figured out HOW to do it yet... *shrugs* We'll see. And "Poor Aragorn" about sums it up, I think, even though "Poor Legolas" is also appropriate. *evil grin*
ManuKu - Manu! *knuddelt* Na, das ist doch mal 'ne schoene Ueberraschung! Ist giut zu wissen, dass du noch dabei bist und noch nicht aufgegeben hast... Was ich jedoch verstehen wuerde. *zuckt Schultern* Ich bin halt verrueckt. LOL, du hast recht, wieder mal der typische Fall vom *schon so gut wie toten* Boesewicht. Die lernen auch nicht, ne? *g* Natuerlich bin ich boese! Mhahahahah! *hustet* Wie dem auch sei. Danke fuer die Review, ich hatte dich schon vermisst!
Starlight - Junge, Junge, Klausuren UND Intenet Probleme? Das ist ja richtig happig! Ich habe auch schon Angst, wir stellen naemlich demnaechst auf Arcor um. Doppelt so schnelles DSL, aber dafuer: Wer weiss schon, ob das alles klappt? Bei meinem Glueck geht das alles in die Hose... Ist doch schoen zu hoeren, dass du die Ranger Folter dann auch wenigstens geniesst. War mir aber eigentlich schon klar. *g* In diesem Kapitel kommt wirklich Legolas' Reaktion, keine Angst! Und der Keks war eigentlich zum Essen da, aber ich bin sicher er macht sich auch gut als Trophaee! *g*
Celebdil-galad/Tinlaure - LOL, it pleases you greatly? Well, it pleases me too, and lots of people as well, even though I have the feeling that Legolas himself wouldn't agree. *shrugs* Spoilsport. Thanks for the review!
Jera - Ack, I forgot to clarify that, huh? I meant it just the way it sounds, namely that Aragorn thinks that the Dwarves and Men are strange races. You know, one of these having-grown-up-in-Rivendell-things. I wanted to clarify it a little, but must have forgotten. Sorry. And you were right with Quenya - I have to admit that I don't speak Korean. English, German, Greek, Latin, a little Italian, a bit Sindarin and Quenya, but that's it, I'm afraid. But I'm starting with Spanish this year and want to learn Portuguese (I have an aunt living in Portugal). You can never speak too many languages, right? *g* LOL, I wouldn't advise you to follow Teonvan's example and throw your boss down a cliff! I just might get you into a little bit of trouble... *g* And I agree, they will _never_ learn when to be silent. They're too stupid for that. *shakes head* Hmm, Girion won't figure out who Legolas is till ch. 24, so don't worry. *blinks* You're beginning to like Teonvan? Really? I mean, I see why you like Sangwar, but not even I like Teonvan and I created him! Nah, I didn't like Lurtz. Three arrows, THREE, that's all I'm saying. And I did some research and found out that the English stole the blond/blonde from the French, which explains the gender change. You studied linguistics? Really? *slowly backs out of the room* I've got to go... *g* I am thinking about doing that too - Ancient Greek is not exactly something you can use in later life, right? About Legolas' age: No-one knows really. I don't accept the movie-people's age which they simply made up if you ask me. So, _I_ made one up too. *g* I'd say he's about 2600 or 2650 years old, slightly younger than the twins, closer to Arwen's age. I'd always thought he'd be younger than them, but hey, that's just me. *g*
Sabercrazy - *dryly* I knew you would. I shouldn't have given it to you. *shakes head* My mistake. And the "Returning Wind" isn't even all that silly! I mean, "at-" as a prefix means "again" or "re-" as far as I can remember right now, and súlë can mean wind after all. So I guess you'd deserve half a clone. A Mini-clone! Like in Austin Powers! *g* It's good to hear that you liked the ranger ... angst. *blinks* You're serious? You can't be serious. You are? You are really _dreaming_ about this? I don't do that! I have never dreamt about my fics! Even though I have to admit that I did have this one dream in which I and Legolas, Aragorn and a few others tried to find a subway station, which was inexplicably closed after 10 pm. on Saturdays. And then we found it and it looked like the London Underground - very strange... *shakes head* Okay, just ignore that, will you? Great you like it so much though!

Once again sorry for posting so late! I hope you'll forgive me! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!