Chapter 12

Silence answered the young man, as those around him traded guilty glances. Aragorn attempted to pull himself up, finding that his own body seemed not to want to cooperate. Seeing his difficulty his twin brothers approached, carefully avoiding his gaze as they gently lifted him into a slightly seated position. Elladan placed a beaker at his mouth, and he gratefully allowed the cool liquid to trickle down his throat, no longer feeling as though he had swallowed fire.

After slaking his thirst, Aragorn looked at the assembled members of his immediate family once more.

"Where is my husband?" he asked.

Elrond sighed. "Estel, all will be explained, however I feel it is best if we were to wait for Lord Denethor, as it was he who expressed a wish to be the one to answer your questions."

Aragorn frowned, his frustration building as his family continued to deny him knowledge. In retaliation he blocked their presence from his thoughts, his gaze and attention shifting down to the small body at his side. His son gazed up at him, with eyes just liked his Ada's.

"Estel, we have sent for Denethor, but you must rest until he arrives," Elrond said quietly.

"Nay Ada, I cannot rest until Legolas is here," the young man returned.

"If you do not rest voluntarily, I can enforce it," the Lord of Rivendell pointed out.

"You forget Ada, I am Lord here not you," Aragorn returned fiercely, a moment later he was flushing in shame, as Elrond simply raised a finely sculpted eyebrow in response to the younger man's outburst. "Very well," he said sullenly. "I shall rest, but I shall not sleep," he added defiantly.

"That is all I ask of you," Elrond said gently, and watched in hidden amusement as his youngest son lost the battle to stay awake.

The Elven Lord gently moved over to the bed, plucking Elessarion from his papa's side, and handing him over to his other grandfather before carefully tucking the blankets around the still healing man.

"You were right Ada," Elrohir commented. "It did not need more than a drop of the sleeping potion in his drink."

Elrond graciously nodded his head in acknowledgement, forcing back the chuckle that strove to break free.

As the cart continued to rumble along in the nearing twilight, Legolas stumbled again. This time he fell hard onto his knees. He was not quick enough to make it to his feet, and as the slack was made taut by the still moving cart, the Elf Prince was dragged, a low moan escaping him as the harsh, arid ground, and sharp stone cut into him.

"Stop you fools," Gimli shouted out, incensed the treatment of the Elf.

An order was shouted by one of the guards, and the cart was quickly halted, however any thoughts Gimli had that the guards might be inspired to pity by their tired captives was soon wiped from his mind, as one of the more vicious guards raised his whip before striking Legolas across the back.

"Get up you lazy creature," he shouted.

The Dwarf wasted no time in rushing forward, using his own body to cover the Prince's as the whip was raised again. The guard snorted in disgust before gesturing towards two of his men, who rushed forward and forcibly pulled Gimli from the Prince.

"You wish to take his punishment?" the guard said, but it was not a question. "So be it. Strip him to the waist and tie him down," he ordered.

His men were quick to obey, and for all his natural strength and his wild struggles, the past days enforced march on little rations had weakened him, and it was not long before he was subdued. Another guard held back Legolas as he tried to get close to the Dwarf, but in the end he could only watch helplessly as the guard's whip was raised over and over, and Gimli's back became red, and fiery, small tears of blood sliding over broken skin where the whip had hit too hard.

Though Gimli has been strong in his resolve not to cry out, after a while his body could endure no more, and with a loud cry of rage and despair he allowed his body to give in to the encroaching darkness.

Legolas watched with relief as Gimli finally collapsed into unconsciousness. The guards, finding no entertainment in torturing the unconscious captive soon released Legolas, as they strode away to the large cooking fires that had been lit for the camp. He stumbled as he made his way forward, and quickly fell to his knees beside his stricken companion, nimble fingers quickly releasing the ties around the Dwarf's limbs.

Although every night since their capture they had been left alone near the edge of the camp, still manacled to the cart, Legolas still swiftly looked around to check the placement of the guards. Seeing that he was unobserved, the Elf blocked any sight of Gimli's body with his own, before he laid trembling hands against the broken skin of the Dwarf's back.

Gimli moaned in unconsciousness, but quickly settled as Legolas whispered soothingly in the tongue of his own people, his healing gift quickly finding the wounds and beginning the process of mending the damage.

Legolas was careful not to heal too much of the Dwarf's injuries, fearing that someone might start asking questions should Gimli arise in the morning fully healed, however what he had done would ensure that his companion suffered considerably less the following morning. It took some effort to pull his hands away from the Dwarf, and when he did, his efforts came crashing down on him all at once. He gave a strangled little moan as he was pulled into his own welcoming oblivion.

Aragorn awoke slowly, his vision taking a while to clear before he was able to focus on anything. Looking around he saw his brothers in one corner of the room, quietly involved in a game of strategy. Thranduil sat in front of the fire, Elessarion sleeping in his arms as the King of Mirkwood gazed thoughtfully into the dancing flames. Turning his head slightly, Aragorn was then able to see his own father who sat in a chair next to the bed, his gaze distant, as the Elf Lord walked in Elven dreams.

His attention shifted as the door to the room opened, and Lord Denethor, closely followed by Boromir and Lord Fenner entered. Elrond woke at the disturbance, his gaze automatically finding his son, and noticing the now wakeful man. He then turned to greet the newcomers, inclining his head gracefully.

Lord Denethor took note than Aragorn was now awake, and nervously approached the younger man. "Aragorn, I wish that it were not so, but I am afraid that I bear bad tidings."

The young man frowned. "What tidings do you bear uncle, and where is Legolas?"

"That is what I wish to tell you. Legolas is gone," the older Man said sadly.

"What do you mean gone? Where did he go? Why did he go?" Aragorn was growing increasingly confused.

Denethor sighed, realizing that he wasn't explaining himself very well. "Do you recall how you came to be injured?"

The young King paused. "There was an explosion on the wall, the dwarves, were there any other survivors?"

"Only one I'm afraid, Master Gimli, although he was not as severely injured as you. However he too has disappeared." Denethor held up a hand forestalling more questions. "After we recovered you both from the rubble you were bought to the healing wing and placed in the same room. Apparently Prince Legolas then ordered all of the healers to remove themselves. They did so under vehement protests, I must point out. I still do not understand why it was that Legolas would do such a thing," Denethor added bewildered. "Now there are rumours circulating that it was his wish to see you die from your injuries, and as severe as they were that was not beyond the realm of possibility, although I confess I have some trouble believing that."

Aragorn sighed, glancing quickly at his father. "Forgive me Uncle, I should have told you sooner, but we wanted as few people to know as possible. Legolas has recently discovered a gift for healing. He used it to heal Elessarion after someone attempted to poison our son."

Denethor gasped in shocked horror. "Why was I not informed of this immediately, why would someone wish to do something so heinous."

"Indeed Uncle, it has puzzled us greatly as well, but the effort of healing Elessarion left Legolas drained of strength. I fear that when he dismissed the healers he was going to attempt a healing upon me, if I was as severely injured as you say then the effort would have weakened him greatly leaving him vulnerable to attack," Aragorn explained.

"That still does not explain why Master Gimli is missing, although it does explain why the Prince had the foresight to have Celdarion take Elessarion from the palace to meet up with King Thranduil," the Steward mused.

"The disappearance of Gimli is extremely puzzling, but we can only assume that whoever has taken Legolas also took Gimli. However, we must keep all our suppositions to ourselves, nothing of this should leave this room. I do not know who to trust any longer, and fear that one of my own people may be attempting to kill my family." The young Man bowed his head.

"If that is as you say then Legolas could already be dead," Denethor said, musing aloud. The sharp intakes of air around him alerted him to his error. "Forgive me Aragorn, I should not have said that, and I am sure that Legolas is well, and will soon be returned to us," he said, hastily trying to reassure the stricken young man.

"Nay Uncle, although your guesses may be correct, I know in my heart that I would have felt Legolas' passing, there would be an empty space in my heart, yet I do not feel that, I simply feel the loss of his physical presence," Aragorn said, and more than one tense body relaxed slightly. "What moves have been made then to recover Legolas, and how many know that Elessarion is returned to once more?"

"I fear Elessarion's return may be common knowledge for there was a public... meeting between King Thranduil and myself when he arrived here." Denethor cast a sharp look at the Mirkwood King, who met his gaze squarely, offering no apologies for his actions, and it was the Steward who was forced to look away. "As for Prince Legolas, we have sent out our best trackers, but no sign has been found of his passing thus far, I am afraid that we are at a loss, unless someone should contact us with news."

Aragorn turned to his father. "Would the Lady Galadriel aid us? I know that she offered her assistance when Legolas was abducted previously, might she provide the same aid now?"

"I will ask her Estel, but I can make no guarantees on her behalf, neither would she make any guarantees that she might be successful in locating Legolas should the attempt be made," the Elven Lord said gently.

Aragorn nodded in response. "Then that leaves us with tracking down the traitors. Someone knew I would be on the wall, for the trap was well prepared, we must find out how these people are getting their information." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Exactly how long has Legolas been gone?" he asked.

Again, only silence and furtive glances were his answer.

The following morning, Gimli was surprised not to arise in agony, instead feeling only a sharp twinge where healing skin was pulled too tightly. He laughingly put it down to his strong Dwarfish constitution, with Legolas dragging up a weak smile for his companion.

The guards were less amused however, and as night fell again they wasted no time in setting upon the Dwarf. It became a regular occurrence over the next few days. As camp was made, after meals had been digested some of the guards would come over to the captives, spending the next few hours beating Gimli, enjoying the distress caused to the Elf as he was forced to watch, their rage with the Dwarf growing, as each morning Gimli arose in very little pain, his wounds seeming to have almost healed on their own.

Gimli, although pleased with his body's ability to withstand the abuse doled out by these men, he felt worry eat at him as his Elven companion seemed to fade a little more each day. He was amazed that in only a few short days the Elf seemed to have lost so much weight, weight that that Dwarf thought the Elf had not to spare in the first place. Dark circles were present under the Prince's eyes, and his ever increasingly prominent cheekbones gave him an almost skeletal look in the wrong light. He thought that if the Elf continued to worsen there would be little chance of them making their escape, for the Dwarf refused to think about abandoning the Prince.

One morning they awoke to an atmosphere amongst their captors that felt distinctly different. As both Elf and Dwarf were roused from their sleep they noticed as the camp seemed to stand about in apprehension. Nobody was carrying out their usual tasks, instead they appeared to be waiting for something. They did not have to wait long.

Shortly after the captives had been woken, Grotahn strode from his tent, making his way with his usual strong gait, towards his captives, whose own apprehension was rising. When he reached them, he gestured to one of his guards who approached Gimli. Both were stunned when the guard quickly pulled the robe from the Dwarfs back, exposing his still fiery looking skin. Grotahn watched closely, examining the marks from the whips, and the already fading bruises from brutal hands and feet. Both Legolas and Gimli were further confused as Grotahn turned his back to them, gesturing for one of his men to approach. Without warning he pulled his long knife from his belt, before plunging it into the shoulder of his guard.

The man jerked visibly, his mouth working soundlessly as the knife was removed. Grotahn turned to face his captives once more. This time, his gaze resting solely on the Elf, and Legolas felt fear take hold of him as the Hrotaki Chieftain stared at him calmly, his eyes seeming to project his hidden knowledge. With a small jerk of his head, Grotahn bid two of his men grab hold of the Elf before dragging him forward to the wounded Man, who now lay still on the ground, face white and skin clammy, as red blood stained the earth.

Legolas was forced to his knees next to the stricken guard, and was startled anew as Grotahn joined him. The Chieftain grabbed hold of the Elf's hands bringing them forcefully to the wound in the guard's shoulder. The Prince strained to pull away, but could not fight the superior strength of the Hrotaki man. He stiffened as his fingers made contact with bloody flesh, his gift immediately pulling energy from his own body and pouring it into the wounded man below. Gasps could be heard all around, and those close enough witnessed the wound beginning to close itself. Legolas turned to look at Grotahn, and found the Chieftain not looking at the wound, but at his captive instead, as though already knowing what effect the Elf would have on the wounded guard.

The Elf Prince closed his eyes helplessly as he felt his strength quickly leaving him, deep within his womb he felt the new life within him, although so very new, becoming distressed. His struggles to pull free weakened, and with a brief sigh he gave into unconsciousness.

"I refuse to stay in this bed any longer," the young man said, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest, his gaze boldly meeting that of the healer, who also happened to be his foster father.

"Very well, then we can move you to your own bed, I am sure you will feel more comfortable there," the Elven Lord pointed out with a small smile.

"No, absolutely not, I refuse to stay in any bed. I am well enough to be moving around, and there are things to be done," Aragorn said harshly.

Elrond's smile faded, and he sighed. "I understand that Estel, yet however well you feel you are not completely healed. You almost died my son, Legolas' healing was the only thing that saved you, and that merely reduced the injuries from being life threatening to being very painful and inconvenient. I have been encouraging your body to heal, and although most of the bones are mended, and the bruising reduced you are still very fragile. Tiring yourself unnecessarily will not aid you in making a complete recovery."

"My husband is missing, I must aid in the search for him, I would hardly call that unnecessary," the young man responded hotly.

"Do you forget the vow that you made at your coronation? Your duty is first and foremost to the welfare of your people. You can coordinate a search from the palace, but it is not for you to abandon your duties in order to pursue your own personal agenda." Elrond raised a hand to forestall Aragorn's protest. "I know that to you Legolas is important, as he is to this nation, but you still cannot be the one to search for him."

"It is so hard Ada, I need to do something. What if he is hurt, or scared, how can I protect him from this bed?" Aragorn asked, despair lacing his voice.

Elrond could say nothing to comfort his son.

Consciousness returned much more slowly than he was used to, and it took a while for Legolas to realize that he was moving, yet not doing so under the power of his own body. He opened his eyelids a fraction, cautiously allowing light to penetrate, and with it came a small amount of recognition. He was lying in the cart that he was accustomed to following, his wrists still Manacled and chained. He moved his head gently, fearing that any sudden movements would aggravate the nausea he usually awoke to. Moving slowly and cautiously, Legolas managed to turn himself so that he could see the Dwarf marching behind the cart, his head downcast.

"Gimli," Legolas called out, his voice sounding scratchy and dry.

"Lad, you're awake," Gimli said, his head lifting at the sound of the Elf's voice, relief colouring his tone.

"What happened?" Legolas queried, his mind feeling unnaturally slow.

"You collapsed laddie. That filthy excuse for orc swine forced you to do something to the soldier he stabbed. I thought he'd pushed you too far though, you turned grey right before you passed out," the Dwarf explained.

Memory slowly returned to the Elf, and with a gasp of fear he sat up. He moaned as his head swam, courtesy of the sudden movement, his stomach churning in distress, but after a moment it settled. He glanced around quickly, and noticed a few of the guards staring at him, a mix of both awe and fear in their gazes, but none made a move toward him, and Legolas was left feeling confused. He shuffled forwards aiming to jump off the wagon and return to his place marching at Gimli's side, but halted as he sensed movement to his right.

One of Grotahn's personal guards sat on his horse, as he rode alongside. He gazed impassively at the Elf before speaking. "You are to remain here Elf until given permission to do anything else." Then he rode off quickly, taking his place at the head of the caravan with his Chieftain.

Legolas frowned, but found himself still feeling weak and was grateful for the reprieve, whatever the reason behind it. He gingerly lay back and allowed himself to soak up the warm rays of the sun, feeling it rejuvenate him a little. Much to his surprise he was kept confined to the wagon for the rest of the day's travel.

However when evening came, his surprise quickly transmuted into apprehension as his chains were released from the back of the wagon and he was escorted away from a protesting Gimli. He was taken to the centre of the camp, to the large tent of the Chieftain, and upon seeing his destination Legolas' struggled fiercely against his captors. His struggles proved futile and he was forcibly escorted into Grotahn's tent. Legolas was dragged to the centre of the tent where a central pole helped keep the large piece of canvas erect. His chains were attached to the pole, and the Prince watched silently as the guards left, leaving him apparently alone.

The Prince had difficulty in judging the amount of time that elapsed before there was movement at the entrance. Grotahn pushed aside the tent flaps before striding into the canvas room, ignoring the Elf that sat against the central pole. He moved over to a large chest, pulling off his voluminous outer robe, followed by his tunic and breeches, until he stood clad only in his loincloth, apparently unconcerned by his near nakedness. Legolas watched his actions warily, past experiences colouring his judgment towards this man, but his apprehension lessened slightly as the Hrotaki man still ignored him, it lessened further as Grotahn pulled on a long thin gown that fell to mid calf.

"Are you hungry?" the Man said suddenly, startling the Prince, for the man was still facing away from him, unsure whether or not to answer, Legolas remained silent.

The Chieftain turned then, facing and acknowledging his captive for the first time. "I asked if you were hungry," he said.

Legolas initially thought to reject any offering this man made, as a matter of principle, but he reminded himself that his unborn child's life depended upon the strength offered by his own body, and so he hesitantly nodded his head.

Grotahn nodded, almost absent-mindedly and strode to the doorway, calling out something to one of his men. A short while later the silence was interrupted as one of Grotahn's servants bought in two steaming bowls. One of the bowls was placed in front of Legolas accompanied by a wooden spoon. The Elf looked hesitantly at the food, his stomach clenching in anticipation as the delicious odours rose to meet his nose. The Hrotaki paused in his own enjoyment of the food as he noticed the Prince had not touched his bowl.

"Why do you not eat?" he asked abruptly, startling Legolas a little. Frowning, he noticed the suspicious look cast at the food by the Elf. "It is not altered," he said.

Legolas cast another look between Grotahn and the food before hesitantly picking up his spoon and ladling a small amount to his mouth. Blowing gently to cool the hot broth, he allowed it to trickle over his tongue. The flavours hit him all at once, almost overpowering after days of the bland rations he had previously been given, and it was all he could do to stop himself from picking up the bowl and swallowing the rest greedily. Instead he forced himself to eat slowly, to avoid upsetting his stomach, and to allow himself full satisfaction from the food.

When he had finished, Legolas cast one mournful look at the empty bowl before turning his attention back to Grotahn. Once more the man was ignoring him, instead perusing some parchment as he ate his own broth. He continued to read long after finishing his meal, and gradually Legolas felt his eyes begin to lose their focus, as sleep tried to claim him. He was badly startled when Grotahn stood abruptly, moving over to douse some of the lamps.

"It is time for bed," the man said in his gruff manner, and Legolas felt his heart begin to race.

Was this why he had been brought to the man's tent? Yet, in an effort not to break his pattern for the evening, Grotahn surprised Legolas again. The man climbed onto his own pile of furs, turning away from the Elf, and seeming to fall quickly into slumber.

The Prince fought slumber for some time, not trusting the man's intentions, yet eventually his need to rest, and with a thought as to the welfare of his fellow captive the Elf fell into reverie.

Legolas yelped as his eyes cleared, and he found himself peering into the forthright gaze of the Hrotaki Chieftain.

"Good, you are awake, I thought had become defective," Grotahn commented as he climbed to his feet. "We are leaving soon, you will ride in the wagon again."

"What about Gimli?" Legolas asked.

Grotahn frowned. "The Dwarf? He marches as before, he is none of your concern now."

"He is my friend, his welfare is my concern," Legolas replied.

"You should more concerned with your own, Elf," the Hrotaki said harshly.

"Why can I not march at Gimli's side then?" Legolas asked.

"Because you have risen in value, and I would prefer you to be well rested so that I can make use of your... unique skills at any time," Grotahn said, a cold smile crossing his features.

A cold dread seized the young Prince, but he attempted to mask his fear behind a facade of bravado. "Why then can I not rest with Gimli?"

"Enough of the Dwarf, continue to pester me and I will see that he is punished for your transgressions, and this time you will not have a chance to heal him." The Chieftain bit out angrily. "You will no longer sleep outside because I prefer to keep you nearby."

Legolas threw a fearful glance at the furs in the corner, and the Hrotaki followed his gaze, understanding the tense frame of the Elf. He laughed in amusement.

"Nay Elf, that is not my purpose with you. My pleasures do not lie in that way," and the Chieftain laughed again as the Elf failed to hide his relief. "No, indeed, you will be given over to the strongest of my slaves for breeding purposes. You will be responsible for the wealth of our tribe both in your healing gifts, and the gifts of your offspring."

The colour drained from Legolas' face at that pronouncement, but Grotahn seemed not to notice the distress he was causing his captive, instead he turned and left the tent, leaving the Prince to his own horrible thoughts.

Aragorn had finally agreed to be moved to his own bedroom, after forcing Elrond to reach a compromise and allow him to conduct meetings from his sitting room, provided he did not move from his chair. His first order of business was to become updated on the search for his missing mate. The news was not good. No sign had been found of the Prince, or of the Dwarf they all assumed to be with him.

Aragorn had paled when Lord Denethor informed him that thankfully a search of the city sewers and the forest beyond the city had not turned up any bodies, however the lack of progress, or even a place to start was frustrating many.

Elessarion was being taken care of by Celdarion under orders from King Thranduil to not allow the infant out of his sight, or into the arms of anyone other than immediate family, Aragorn, although pleased to see his son, did not countermand the Elf King's orders, grateful for the protection the Elven warrior afforded his child. Understandably there had been tears from the infant, and cries of 'Ada' that brought a tear to many eyes, yet Elessarion was for the most part well behaved.

Guards were placed at the entrance to the Royal family's suite of rooms, and so it was to the surprise of many that a new face entered the King's sitting room.

Aragorn looked up in shock. "Faramir! What are you doing here?"

The young ranger took in the surprised looks of the persons assembled before allowing a shy grin to cross his features. "Surprise!"

End of chapter 12